|OH THE AGONY OF LIFE! I CAN'T TAKE IT! |
NO! I CAN'T GO ON!
A lot of you will recall my whining about my thyroid. It's lumpy. It has bumples all over it. It's NODULE CITY.
Well, do you guys remember the last time I whined about it in "A Needle In The Neck Is STILL Not Good Times"? Oh, you missed that? Well it's still a juicy read. Go on, go click on it and see how much fun it was to have a needle inserted into my neck about TEN TIMES.
Well THAT was nearly a year ago. And the results from that biopsy came back as "inconclusive." This means, that even though the doctor looked at the ultrasound and said I had nearly a ZERO probability of thyroid cancer (just a really ugly thyroid), he figured it would be best to stick a sharp object into my throat over and over and over again, so he could SUCK THINGS OUT, study them and make sure.
And you are RIGHT! THAT WAS A PARTY!
So much so in fact that when I was supposed to return within a couple of months for another NECK STAB-O-RAMA, I was a little hesitant to return. And THEN, when they called me and said their ultrasound machine was on the fritz and they'd have to reschedule me, I was ELATED. And THEN when they forgot me and didn't call me back with my new appointment? F*ck that shizz, my friends.
Yeah, you've done the math. It's nearly a year later.
So guess what--at my yearly physical with my doctor, she gave me the gentle scolding and insisted that I "really should get that follow up done."
But it's sooooooooooooooooo unpleasant. I can't even tell you how unpleasant it is, and then afterwards, you get to feel like you were punched in the throat for the next couple of days.
So GUESS WHAT--the doctor prescribed me a CALM DOWN PILL, just so I can go back there and face the neck assault again and feel like even though I'm having someone dig into my neck, and warn me NOT TO SWALLOW WHILE HE'S "IN THERE," (which actually isn't as exciting as it sounds...) I get to feel like I've taken a vacation to hearts and flowers land.
Yeah, that's right. I got me some CALM DOWN PILLS. And the awesome thing was, I had to show my frickin driver's license to get it, to make sure I am me, and not some junkie pretending to be karen with a lumpy thyroid so I could get myself some drugs.
Oh the stigma. OH the shame. Oh the juicy, delicious narcotics!
But, I promptly filled out that prescription, because DAMN IT, I was going to make that thyroid biopsy appointment.
That was in December.
FINALLY, today, I steeled myself, dug out my number for the endocrinologist, and made myself an appointment! Then I got off the phone and PROMPTLY BURST INTO TEARS.
And that is exactly the kind of PRINCESS KAREN TENDERHEART bullshit I am tired of.
WHAT THE HELL HAS HAPPENED TO ME?!?
Yeah, blah, blah, yadda yadda, my mother died a swift death in horrible, shocking agony from lung cancer, while we all sat back and watched the failings of our medical system, and then, apparently,
ALL MY COURAGE FELL STRAIGHT OUT OF MY ASS.*
(* when I was a chambermaid those summers during university, the boss once gave us the best motivational talk ever and told us our brains had fallen out of our asses. Lurv it forever.)
So, what I need from you, my beloveds, is
1) a good swift kick in the ass
2) bogus trumped up words of encouragement
I, karen tenderheart, solemnly swear to MAN THE F*CK UP, not cry again before the appointment, and take my stabbies like a GROWN ASS WOMAN.
"So there's no simple explanation
for anything important any of us do
and yea the human tragedy
consists in the necessity
of living with the consequences
under pressure, under pressure.
Courage, my word, it didn't come, it doesn't matter"