42 years later and Momma Still knows best!!
Today wasn’t the Friday I expected it to be. Some days never are what you expect. It was simple get up have a couple calls, go to Office, go to dermatologist let her tell you it’s ok to keep tanning your body brown, go back to Office, play bocce ball, go swim 1450 yard, and go home eat roast, and play with puppy. Seems easy enough right?
Well it went according to plan right up the point; I was explaining
to the dermatologist what I wanted her to look at. Look the only reason, I went to see the lady
is because Mom warned me that about my tanning.
She reminded me that my Maternal Grandmother passed of skin cancer, and
that I was getting to be around the age she passed and my days of no sun screen
needed to come to an end. It is hard for
me because one of my best features is my ability to tan. Sure, I got the great hair, the good smile,
and calves stolen from a Greek God, but my tan, I would list behind the hair as
best quality. I am not even sure the
smile is a good one but Dorothy says it is, therefore it must be. So, I went to
see this lady. I went to see her about
moles and freckles and the possibility of skin cancer. And oh, there was this mole like growth next
to my right eye, and if you could look at that it would be great.
The doctor went straight to the moleish thing on my eye and
quickly said not a mole it is a cyst and well things really just went downhill
from there. I have never and I mean
never had anyone so interested in something on my body before. I wish women had been as interested in other
parts of my body the way this women was with this cyst mole thingy. For a minute or two she was worried it might
be a blood vessel. In the end, I can’t
remember what she called the thing. The
closest thing I can find on the web is a hidrocystomas, picture looks almost
right, she said the key was in the blueish tint but I am pretty sure that wasn’t
it. I swear she said africanous (I swear
I thought she was saying that) something something, but then she said she was
gonna lance it with a needle, I lost all coherent thought.
The last time I had a procedure, I got in trouble with the
nurses b/c I didn’t tell them I was afraid of needles. Today, I made no mistake I told the nice
nurse. She said she was the same way and
she would take care of me and she did. She
brought me apple juice and water and it was great, when it was all over, but
there was this minor thing we had to do lancing my cyst.
Before I knew it I was feet up in the air nurse pulling my
eye apart and she was tapping on my head.
I was so distracted by the tapping, I didn’t notice the big needled the
women was giving me a shot with. They
numbed me up good. Real good, I didn’t
feel anything but pressure when they were the women was poking around in this
thing. It is sort of funny, I have never
heard two women so excited to see something draining liquid before.
I was fine, really I was fine. Then the doctor had to say, I am going to get
the big needle. I was like oh shit. Why on Earth did she have to say that? She could have gone and got the Seattle space
needle, I wouldn’t have known, why tell me that. That is when I told the nurse it was
happening and I was starting to get an adrenaline rush and that was always the precursor
to passing out.
The nurse told me to remember what the doctor had told me
earlier. That I was a bundt cake, and I
was in the middle of that cake (yes this is how the doctor had started the
procedure, and you know what it worked).
All, I could do was say over and over again out loud of course, mmmmmm,
Caaaakkkkkkeeeeeee, mmmmmmmmmmm Cakkkkkkkeeeeeeee. I really have a way with the ladies don’t
I.
Before I knew it, the procedure was done. That is when the real anxiety hits me. You build up for all this pain and hurt and
then nothing happens and your left with an overwhelming need to stand up and
run around the hospital screaming at the top of your lungs. The sweat starts pumping out of you and your
like no sweat, stop it! Your inside in
AC you are not supposed to sweat, but you just go with it. The nice nurse gives you a juice box and all
you can think to say to her is mmmmm mmmmmm, Caaaakkkkkkeeeeeee, mmmmmmmmmmm
Cakkkkkkkeeeeeeee. She laughs and goes
and gets you water. You still want to
run, but you are starting to feel normal again, you want them to bring you up,
but you know they won’t not just yet, so you drink your juice and you practice
your deep breathing and finally you are good again and they let you go. They say enough excitement for one day, we
will do the mole check in two weeks. You
happy because you like them and you are glad you get to see them again, but you
are cautious because these too like to stick you with needles and ewe and aww
over you fluid leaking out.
You get out of the office and on the way to the car you call
you Mom and tell her how mad you are at her, because you have been poked and
prodded and not in a an experimental way with the Columbian girl in SoCal. You Mom says see I told you to get those moles
checked out and I was like no moles just a cyst on the eye, gotta go back in
two weeks for the mole hunt.
The rest of you day passes, you wear you Band-Aid on the eye
like a badge of honor. You go and get
sympathy wherever you can. That is just
who you are and you accept it. Nothing
wrong with working the system, you get a little bummed out because they told
you can’t swim. You 95 day streak of
closing the rings looks to be coming to an end.
Mom calls, you send her to voicemail because you are in a meeting. You finish your meeting. You go and check on the team. They are all gone. Good for them.
You go back to call mom.
You talk about this and that. And
you bitch and complain about not being able to swim. So what are you going to do now for a work
out. Mom says, you can still go to the
pool and walk can’t ya. You don’t have
to go under the water. You sit there and
think Jesus am I really this dumb. No
really am I. You tell her it is a great
idea, and that is when you realize 42 years later and she is still knows
best.
You go to the pool, you walk.
You walk, and you walk some more.
You count the laps. You work out
the plot for your next story. It is
there on the edge of you mind, it take shape and you walk and you walk and you
walk. 1700 yards and an hour later and
yes Mom still knows best. Rings are
closed, band-aide still in place and now you are thinking In and Out for
dinner. Hell you thought about it enough
on the laps back and forth in the pool.
You shower. You get
dressed. You send a few texts from the
car. You put the car in gear and you
start driving. There is no music on you
are still thinking about the story forming in your mind. What is dinner gonna be, will it be In and
Out or that whole food pot roast at home?
You ask yourself well just how hungry are you right now. Are you hungry enough for In and Out? It is worthy going? You say I can eat but I
am not starving. I can eat but In and
Out doesn’t sound all that good. No
right now. That whole food sounds pretty
great. That whole food hits the
spot. You pass the road for in and
out. You are impressed with
yourself. You drive home, you let Puppy
out, you have a little pot roast and you type a little story and life, is
good.
