and the diagnonsense is…
So, I got my test results back yesterday afternoon - turns out it’s a lipoma. In laymen’s terms it’s a (fairly large/deep - which is why I couldn’t ‘see’ it under the skin) benign tumor of fat cells growing around the lymph nodes in my underarm. It’s right in the middle of the ‘lateral group’ - I have no idea what that means. The doctor’s used big words. I just focused on the word benign.
A big reason for the second set of tests was that, apparently, in women swollen under arm lymph nodes of any type can be a precursor to breast cancer. My second set of tests included a mammogram (that thankfully came back completely clear). The doctor also pointed out that this ‘tumor’ (as it were) was another reason I’ve been feeling so sluggish and icky lately as my immune system hasn’t been operating at full capacity (he reminded me that whenever a person has a cold their neck swells up - that’s the lymph nodes - I reminded him that I passed junior high school, high school and college biology; then I apologized for being snarky ‘cause my Mom smacked the back of my head).
I then got one of those extra special doctor conversations that pretty much told me I have nothing to worry about…and immediately segued into telling me I have to have surgery to remove it. Being that I have no medical insurance currently I asked when I couldn’t just leave it since it is non-cancerous (and I just do not have $2000 to lay out for surgery, plus whatever the bills are already from testing) and the doctor pointed out that lipoma’s can become cancerous, or even just infected and gross, over time (isn’t that pleasant) if left alone. Again - I sort of knew that from high school bio but, ugh, I really hate doctors.
So (ridiculously early) Tuesday morning I go in for pre-op testing (here’s hoping I don’t wind up getting any type of cold/virus before then ‘cause I’d really like to just get this shit over with - I also have the worst luck on the damned planet) before being taken in for surgery. It’s an outpatient procedure so ‘barring any complications’ (they just love to cover their asses don’t they?) I’ll be home Tuesday evening. They even promised that I’ll barely have a scar (I really didn’t care about that part since we aren’t talking about my face, chest or even legs); though, supposedly raising and lowering my arm for a few weeks will not be anything remotely resembling fun.
Then after the surgery, I’ll have (besides the usual post-op visit you’d have with your doctor) two rounds of blood tests/MRI scans six months apart just to make sure nothing was missed and/or develops. After that I’m in the ‘clear’ (again, with the ‘covering their asses’ bit - if I have nothing to worry about…why do I have to have follow up visits to make sure they aren’t wrong about this whole benign thing?).
So yea, that’s what’s up with me. Sorry I dropped off the face of the earth. The second they stuck me with a mammogram I sort of just didn’t want to think about shit until they gave me any results.
On top of all that - this whole “oh my god…Bridget could be legitimately sick!” thing resulted in us having over 20 people for Thanksgiving dinner tonight. We normally have six (me, Mom, Nanny, my cousin Kristine, my uncle Terry, and my cousin James). The irony to all of this - I really fucking dislike my family. Family gatherings stress me out like you would not believe; mostly, because as much as we all love each other, we don’t really like each other. But we pretend really well. It’s kind of alcohol seeped passive-aggressive conversation masquerading as civility. I even pointed out all of this to my Mother ahead of time. I tried telling her, “if they’re all so concerned about my health and want to do something nice for me…they won’t come to dinner.” That didn’t go over really well being that the woman just spent the last two weeks wondering if I had some type of cancer. I spent most of the day/night in my bedroom.
Instead, it was the usual suspects PLUS the two siblings of the cousins already listed (and the eldest sibling’s new HICK wife), their mother (who we pretty much hate, is divorced from my uncle and has a damned order of protection against the two that are normally here), my other uncle, his wife and two children, my Godmother/’aunt’ Joanne, my ‘uncle’ Bobby, their two daughter’s (plus the husband/fiance’s of those two), Kristine’s boyfriend, my ‘uncle’ Brad and my grandmother’s older sister. The only family I would have actually wanted to show up live in Pennsylvania, New Mexico and California. (Aunts/Uncle’s in quotes are actually just 2nd cousins/spouses that I’m not allowed to refer to by their first names alone because it would be disrespectful…even though I’m almost 30).
There was a damned “Kids Table”. We haven’t had one of those since I was about 12. Admittedly the youngest person at said “Kids Table” was James (he’s 16) and the oldest was my cousin Kevin (3 months older then me). We pretty much sat around and traded stories about what disappointments we are to our parents…while Kevin reminded us that he’s the ‘favorite’ since he’s never done a single ‘shitty’ thing in his life (ya know, other then having a horrible chip on his shoulder and overblown sense of entitlement due to the fact that he has a vision disability - not blind, just really bad eyes. That shit stops working after the age of 10).
Only reasonably good thing about this crowd rolling up to our house (I have never been more thankful to live in a 3 floor high ranch in my life fyi) is that my Mother completely behaved herself (sober AND no ‘crazy’ moments) as a way of sticking it to all of the relatives that have been bad mouthing her the last few years. That and she sort of went ridiculously overboard with the amount of awesome food (leftovers for weeks - two fucking 17 pound turkeys). That’s without even getting into the desserts (my Mom was a professional baker/pastry chef until she was 45 - and started her ‘training’ when she was 15 and got a job at the local bakery).
So, yea, that’s what’s up.
