Far Away Places

The thing about writing about people traveling is that it makes ME want to travel, too. Not necessarily to far away places, though. That’s more the result of both of my boys going through some…phases. As exhibited in this week’s video.

The other bonus to working on this project (Amongst the Liberal Elite) is that I am chronically behind on patience and racked with mom guilt that I don’t have more patience for their impatience. I like to scold myself with declarations that they wouldn’t be acting out if I could just carve out more time for them and not spend so much time on the book. Even though I remember this DEFINITELY being a part of four the last time and word on the street is that the cusp of seven is often a repeat of three and four.

I don’t suppose next up is the “perfectly-rational-eights” or the “well-aren’t-things-a-lot-easier-nines.”

Even as I type that, I only half mean it. Life loves to remind you of its fleetingness. I have a Master’s degree in the fleetingness of Life already. Yet it seems Life has decided I need a refresher seminar. To the tune of something sitting where my left ovary should be. A whole 8 x 13 x 12cm of something, to be specific.

Mind you, the doctor says it’s probably a cyst. It appears to be fluid filled rather than solid.

“So it’s not cancer, then?” I ask. Because I’ve been too scared to ask that question. Not during the physical exam, the pelvic ultrasound, the transvaginal ultrasound, or the MRI did I ask that question.

“Probably not,” she answered. And I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “But I think we can both agree with your history….”

And so…I have a new oncologist. Because who doesn’t want more than one of those?

Maybe the ovary is still there? I’ll know more when the results of the MRI come back. Hopefully Life will be satisfied by a thirty-minute transvaginal ultrasound followed by a panic attack in a claustrophobic tube and no further coursework will be required.

I’ve decided it is NOT cancer. It doesn’t feel like cancer. My tired is a normal tired. I have no pain. Cancer hurts. Sometimes I can still feel the lymphoma in my scar tissue. This isn’t that. And I definitely haven’t been dropping weight inexplicably. (Yay staring at the computer all day!)

I’ve decided it’s just a boring old cyst that they’ll remove laparoscopically. I’ve also decided it won’t be urgent and I can figure that out after I deliver the book. In fact, I’ve decided to ignore it entirely until I see my shiny new oncologist in a few weeks.

Just for added measure, I’ve decided that every medical scare I have is one less that my kids will have to experience themselves…because there’s a big cosmic balance sheet for that kind of thing somewhere in the Universe, right?

This was not what I intended to write about today. I’ve been doing an amazing job of pretending none of this was happening, actually. Or at least pretending to pretend. But there’s a reason I don’t play poker. And I think there’s probably another reason my kids are acting out. Because they are more intuitive than is good for them…or me, sometimes.

It’s the homestretch of the book…less than a month until we deliver all the pages. And I’ve never been more grateful for an all-consuming deadline. In its own way, it feels like a faraway place, that deadline. It’s calling to me, too. A book…to be pulled…off a shelf.


  1. It’s a fleeting pimple on the ass of everyday life . Harmless , removed without incident or fanfare. I have willed it. It is so.
    The book though? The book is forever . A solid tangible manifestation of hard work and lady balls. Sitting on shelves, making people laugh, a bit of you put out into the universe that is solid and permanent. Cysts have no where near the longevity or weight of that kind of staying power.;)

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