Sick Humor

No countdown on the New Year -- we were too busy watching the latest Star Trek movie on cable. There was no fanfare, but there was comfort in being surrounded by friends who have known me a long time. That's way better!

Two days later Tawny came by to help me get some affairs in order. Too bad it wasn't the fun kind. I had received a welcome packet in the mail from Moffitt Cancer Center which included a full color brochure/booklet that was both friendly and informative plus a nice stack of paperwork I had to fill out. The first page outlined what I was to bring to my first appointment; however, the sobering portion of the page was the top right where a medical number was assigned to me. I know this is just part of procedure and is not a knell of anything in particular to come. Still. It is sobering.

I suggested Tawny to drive us to my aunt and uncle's in my car since I was uncomfortable, just not feeling up to par. The funny part was that we had to switch so I could drive after all. My ass grooves were molded to the drivers seat and made the ride more comfortable. The passenger seat made me favor the side that was sore. Maybe it is just psychosomatic and my need to be in control?

The visit to my aunt's was to get signatures and witnessing my wishes in a living will on what I want in case I end up in an vegetative state, etc. and to make my designation for a health care surrogate to make decisions for me in case I am incapacitated. I told my aunt and uncle as I filled out my portion that if a sexy man was on top of me incapacitating me at the hospital, they were to leave me alone. How else should one go in the next world? We all had a great chuckle.

Another errand and a lunch on the go, brought Tawny and me back to my apartment to help me with other paperwork and other little things I needed help doing. It is difficult to ask for help, but I know that I need to right now if I am going to be well until my next medical appointment. It will determine my day for open surgery to get this alien amoeba out of me. I eat less because it is pressing up against my organs yet as I lose weight it continues to re-assign itself around my midsection announcing itself in front of me like a shameless and knowing showman.

Don't fear my lovelies, if the phone conversation with my new doctor's nurse assistant today is anything to go by, I should have more laughs going through this journey. Apparently, I am not so special. There are others with bigger cysts that they've seen. She punctuated the news by iterating (in my words now...) what a rock star my doctor is and how well he is rated as a surgeon in his field. Just lovely. I'm going to need a really good poke.
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Sick Humor