Next pair of socks started!
OK, I finished a pair of socks, so I have to start another pair. Them's the rules, right?
I have an idea. I'm just gonna give you the title... Argylles on Acid. Oh yeah. Original pattern, I did these before, about 7 years ago. On the honeymoon! The name comes from a park ranger at the meteor crater in New Mexico, who liked the socks and gave them that name. Stay tuned!
Labels: SummerOfSocks
I am not my boobs.
Why, then, did it upset me so much that I might have another fibroadenoma to remove? I had even myself worked up into thinking I'd lose the breast.
(btw, kudos if you got the reference to India Arie's song "I am not my hair!")
But now, I get a call from the doctor saying I have a 6 cm cyst on one ovary. Huh. Not mm? Nope. I pull out the ruler - that's a good 2 inches. No pain, either. I grill him more on that jagged black spot on the mammogram- he's sure that's ok. But he wants the GYN to check out the ovarian cyst. And, just to be prudent, go in on Monday and have a CA-125 test, too, ok?
Huh.
Sigh. I'm playing medical whack-a-mole again. Cripes.
Still, I'm not upset over losing an ovary, or even having a total hysterectomy. The only reason that occurs to me is that it's on the
inside, so nobody can tell. Not even me, looking in the mirror. Scars, no biggie. But losing a breast, that bothers me.
Ah, well, I have knitting to do. I'm not upset. A bit introspective (can you tell?) is all. Maybe it'll hit later. Be alert, sharp pointy sticks may still be needed.
I'll leave you with this picture, on the highway north of Vancouver. Don't you wish all artisans got their own road sign? hmmm. I like that!
The socks are done!
I spent a long lunch hour finishing up these socks so I could get them into this week's SoS report!
Labels: SummerOfSocks
It's Gonna Be OK!
Oof.
Finally tracked down the radiologist's report, got it sent, and got the results. Apparently, the jagged black spot was just a calcification. I've also got a 4mm cyst, which is no big deal.
The emotions are still resounding and echoing -- I feel like one of those Looney Tunes characters where they have a bucket or barrel over their head and Bugs Bunny plays it like a marimba. (could you pick a more apt metaphor? didn't think so.)
Relief. Wow, lotsa relief. Yet, I've got a lot of other emotions bouncing around too - like disappointment that I don't have something they can easily remove which will solve all my aches and pains. (yeah, I'm a bit of a hypochondriac.)
And I'm also a bit embarrassed that I was so stressed about nothing. I mean, hey, I've only had 5 fibroadenomas removed (cue the Frankenboobs reference again), why couldn't I tell this was nothing to worry about?
And what if I cry wolf enough times that I don't have any support when I really need it? ah, memories of HRH, His Royal Hiebert, the emperor without a clue...
AhHAH! This is the part of the self-reflection where I start beating myself up for beating myself up. That's when I really know I'm gonna be ok, and can relax and laugh hysterically!
Thanks, dear friends. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
Update
I need some sharp pointies, folks... geezzz, I think I had 8 typos in those first five words.
The anxiety level is pretty high, and not knowing is starting to wear pretty thin.
Plus, the Roketman and I are going over to Palm Springs because his mom is having a pretty major melanoma removed from her face.
I haven't heard from the radiologist. I keep calling my doctor, who checks and reports that they haven't read it yet. I called Friday afternoon around 2- and the radiologist had already gone home for the weekend!! arrrrgh!
So, the whole no news is good news thing is getting tired. Please, I don't want "you poor thing", I want You're Gonna BE OK!!
(later, about 5:30pm...)
Thanks, gize. I am feeling better -- it seems like the Schooley clan was all tough-pants until Saturday, and when one sister pushed the panic button they all fell over like a row of dominos. So, because of my own uncertainty, my anxieties were through the roof.
I gotta laugh at it all - Eleanor was a trooper. She says she can feel where they cut clear over to her nose, and up close to her eye, but she went to lunch with us and was cracking jokes.
So if Eleanor is going to be ok, so will Ruth.
Thanks again-- just what I needed!
