Scared With A Cee

Before you continue, you should know there is absolutely nothing wrong with me. At least not with my breasts. Because I know you were wondering…

On Wednesday I had my very first mammogram. Ah, what a pleasure that was. I had heard about it, but was still a bit surprised to see and feel just how tightly my breasts could be sqeezed between two pieces of Plexiglas. The appointment was over before it was even supposed to begin. I was in and out in under ten minutes. Not bad.

The technician told me I would receive a phone call on Thursday for a follow up appointment should anything show up. If not, they would just send me a letter with an invitation to come back in one year. When I spoke to Ryan on the phone at the end of the day yesterday, I told him I had not gotten a phone call and everything must be alright.

I had spoken too soon. After I hung up, I checked the missed calls. While I was accompanying Lola to her ballet class, the local clinic had called. And they had left a message that they would like to go over my mammogram results with me. Of course they were closed by the time I listened to it and I was left stewing over the possible implications until this morning.

I had a hard time keeping it together at first. While I knew in the back of my mind that this was nothing but a courtesy call, I could not get my brain and my heart to believe it and act accordingly. Things got better once Ryan came home and I was able to talk about it. He reassured me, and undoubtedly himself, there was nothing to worry about. I calmed down enough to be able to make jokes about it.

This morning I called the clinic as soon as they opened. It took them approximately ten minutes to answer their phone by which time I was thoroughly worked up again. If you insist on scaring your patients, at least have the decency to be open for business when you say you are. When I was finally connected to the nurse, she told me the results were negative ("What does that mean, is that good or bad?", my frantic brain was yelling at me) and that they would like to see me back in one year.

Good news then.

After taking a deep breath, I was able to calmly tell the nurse what the mammography techs at the hospital tell their patients and how she had scared the living daylights out of me with her message. She was very apologetic and I could tell she genuinely felt bad about the whole situation. We parted on a good note.

I called Ryan with the good news, made myself a cup of coffee, and painted my toenails a beautiful taupe color. I don't care if it's snowing outside, things are looking sunny to me!

Friday The Thirteenth

It was Friday the Thirteenth and the day started out like any other. I have never been afraid of that particular date, in fact I rather liked it. I thought it was special. And after living in Spain for a while, where it’s Tuesday the Thirteenth that has everyone avoiding ladders and black cats, I really didn’t have any negative associations with it.

How naïve of me.

Around 11 AM my husband called. He was up in the UP skiing at Mount Bohemia. We were all supposed to go there for the weekend, including my brother-in-law and two of my nieces, but Ryan went up a day ahead. It was his first time on his new powder skis and he was very excited about finally being able to use them.

When I answered the phone he told me the skiing was glorious. He had hiked up the mountain before they opened with another guest and made first tracks. The snow was great and he got a few awesome runs in. But then his tone changed. He said he was really calling with bad news; he had had an accident. He slipped and fell on his elbow and he thought it was broken.

A trip to the local hospital confirmed it was indeed fractured. The tip of his elbow had a crack about a quarter inch wide in it. They put a fiberglass splint on his arm and wrapped him up. With a sling and a bottle of painkillers they sent him on his way, telling him he should look for an orthopedic surgeon first thing Monday morning.

And so we did. The doctor explained how he would screw two pins into his arm and tie a piece of metal thread around his elbow to pull it all together. His surgery was scheduled for Wednesday. He would have to spend one night there since general anesthesia was required. That was a bit of a disappointment. Both our fathers have just had a knee replaced under local anesthesia. But I guess your arm is higher than your heart and a spinal blocker is a bit of an issue then.

The surgery went well. When they opened up his arm the damage turned out to be a bit more extensive than visible on the x-rays. Instead of two pins they put in four. Other than that, everything went as planned. I was able to take him home yesterday. He, and therefore I, had a very rough night but the pain has subsided some and is now bearable. He is starting to heal. In six to eight weeks he should be as good as new.

Nothing Lost, Nothing Gained

A couple of weeks ago I went on a diet for the first time in my life. Summer is upon us which means shorts, tank tops, and bikinis are part of my wardrobe once again. Several ladies at the casino were talking about a very effective diet, based on a chemical reaction brought on by what you eat. They swear by it. And truth be told, you can tell they are losing weight.

My mother-in-law and I decided to join in on the fun. And I even took it one step further; I quit smoking at the same time. If I was going to mess with my metabolism, I might as well do it right. Those first three days were hard. Very hard. Not so much the not smoking, although I did have a hard time focusing after 2 PM, but the hunger... All I could think about was food. No doubt fueled by the fact I was no longer suppressing my appetite with nicotine.

I did not lose the promised ten pounds that first week, or any week thereafter for that matter, but I did lose some. More importantly, I did not gain any. Had it not been for my diet, I would have snacked non-stop those first few days after quitting smoking. I still diet three days a week and lose about six pounds, most of which I eat back on again during the four days I can eat what I want. I don't think this particular diet is really for me.

To be honest, I am not the dieting kind. I just need to watch my portions, make sure I eat more veggies, and get moving. Lack of exercise is my main problem. I guess we're breaking out the Richard Simmons records tomorrow morning...