So… the OB called back to let me know that my tests were not regular. I was so come in for an immediate biopsy and I was terrified. I immediately went straight into the office and proceeded to hyperventilate most of the time. She told me they just wanted to take a closer look at the cervix and if it wasn’t a big deal they wouldn’t even do a biopsy.
After very uncomfortably moving around and examining me I heard her, “We’re going to do the biopsy now.”
I then jumped to the next level of being petrified.
I’ve been waiting for my test results oh so impatiently as it would be one of three scenarios:
- All was well
- Low grade precancerous cells
- High grade precancerous cells
They finally called back today and I begged for them to tell me over the phone because I’d be leaving on business soon. Turns out I’ve opened door number 2. I held it together until I found out I could spend the rest of the day working at home and then lost it.
Could be better, could be worse. It’s good they caught it early before it turned into cancer, but when people start throwing around the “c” word it’s immediate panic. Glass half full I’ll have to go into the office for so many sessions for them to freeze/burn/something the cells to kill them essentially. They’ll keep checking often afterwards to make sure nothing comes back, but to be honest I’m still scared.
Feeling grateful, yet still scared…
1. First, it’s always awkward getting ready for a gyno appointment. Do I shave down below for her, is that awkward, is it awkward if I don’t and just let that shit run wild? Do I shave my legs? Is it awkward if they have a winter coat on them? Is it strange if they’re silky smooth? Now obviously I shower, but what do I wear? Should I dress like I’m going to an 8am college class or a business meeting? The initial questions are always almost enough to stop me from going.
2. I’m sitting in the office and the previous patient walks out, tells me to “have a good time” and starts singing about putting your feet in the stirrups and getting back in the saddle. OMG I’m starting to lose it at this point.
3. The doctor then asks a series of questions.
- When did you become sexually active? 18
- How many partners have you had? 7
- Did you get the Gardasil shot? No
She then responds telling me if I’ve been with that many people I really need to get the shot. Is it just me or I thought I was on the low end? Basically my doctor thinks I’m a floozy.
4. Then my doctor asked if I was “getting any.” I assumed she meant sex and started giggling and muttered no. She made a comment that made no sense to the context so I asked her to repeat the question. Turns out she wasn’t asking about my sex life, but if I was still getting a period with my Mirena…awkward silence ensues.
5. As she’s poking around my hot pocket I tried to make small talk about how long she’s been at her practice. She then starts to go on about how awkward that would be because then I could then infer her age. I had to clearly point out that she couldn’t feel anymore awkward than I did at that current moment…
6. I finally thought I had escaped this situation, but no, just wait, there’s more. I had to pick up a script from my pharmacy to balance out bacteria (nothing serious) and of course I went through the drive through to spend as little time as possible there picking up my vag cream. The lady at the window says she’ll be with me in a second and I wait… until a stunningly gorgeous young man decides to stop and help me get my prescription. OMG humiliation ensues. I may never be able to show my face in this pharmacy again… when will the humiliation end.
I have some serious making up to do in the social and ego building department this weekend…
Well I was really trying to be nice to my mom, but she basically killed that when I found out she moved in with and had been secretly dating the man that had nakedly, drunkenly, and belligerently threatened my sister. He had also called my gay brother a “faggot” and she told him to deal with it and get over it. At last I hit my final straw. I told her she made her bed and now she had to lie in it. We were to no longer talk. We then had a followup conversation two weeks later as she kept calling and leaving voicemails like nothing had ever happened.
She kept randomly calling, but I didn’t answer and she stopped leaving voicemails. Until this weekend that is. During work I got a pleasant, up beat message, “Hi! Call me back. I miss you. I’ve got exciting news…I’m moving to Florida!”
Later I attended church (I needed a little Jesus after that call and a near panic attack) and called her back after. She couldn’t understand why we couldn’t have a relationship and I couldn’t be happy for her. She kept saying she finally had an opportunity to move to Florida (across the county) and when I asked what that opportunity was there was no response. There wasn’t a job opportunity or a new place to live, it was just leaving. I tried to explain to her that I’d do anything to protect my brother and sister and she was doing quite the opposite. She talked in circles and I kept telling her I wished her the best, loved her, and would continue to pray for her. Nothing hit home and I truly hope one day it will. I am realizing that I can’t keep trying to fix her. I need to worry about me and protecting my brother and sister. For the sake of my sanity, our relationship is no more…
So January is nearly over and I still haven’t nailed down any specific resolutions. The problem isn’t that I don’t have any, it’s that I want it ALL. I want to further my education, work out more, read more, excel in the workplace, travel more, spend more time with my friends, spend more time with my family, yada yada yada. Essentially there is just not enough time in the day to do it all so I’m trying to prioritize without spreading myself too thin.
In 2013 I bought my own home, so I know I needed a new “reach for the stars” goal in 2014. I think I’ve narrowed it down to two ideas.
1. Go back to school for my MBA. Pro: Furthering my education and knowledge of my field of work. Can’t hurt my resume as well if I ever switch jobs. Cons: This will be very costly and take 2-3 years.
2. Start learning Spanish. Pro: Again furthering my education and also a good resume builder. Plus I have a passion for foreign languages and it’d be nice to actually commit to learning one. Cons: Not as costly as an MBA, but will still take money. It’s also a skill that you’ll lose if you don’t use which makes me nervous.
Opinions and advice are welcomed via messages as I’m at a bit of a crossroads. FYI I plan on doing this all while working 50-60 hour weeks, seeing family, seeing friends, and occasionally hitting the gym while keeping a healthy diet. If I keel over or lose it you’ll know why haha
I think I’m going to start keeping a list of all my reads with a 1-10 rating system. This book is definitely a 10 and a great read for anyone looking for a good laugh =)
Let’s Pretend This Never Happened by Jenny Lawson
“I can finally see that all the terrible parts of my life, the embarrassing parts, the incidents I wanted to pretend never happened, and the things that make me “weird” and “different,” were actually the most important parts of my life. They were the parts that made me ME.”
― Jenny Lawson, Let’s Pretend This Never Happened: A Mostly True Memoir
I’ve never been a good sleeper. I have night terrors, night sweats, toss & turn… it is literally a nightmare. And it has been this way for as long as I can remember.
Through my high school and college years it was easy. I could survive on the five hours of sleep, but now that I work 50-60 hours a week it’s literally killing me. I don’t sleep and am constantly exhausted.
I finally got the will to go to the doctors (I very clearly have white coat syndrome) and it was worth the anxiety. My doctor told me horror stories of sleeping pills and then recommended a dose of klonopin before bed each night. Last night was the first night I’ve slept without waking in FOREVER. I can’t explain how good it felt to sleep. I know that pills aren’t the answer, but as my doctor said, some people are just bad sleepers. A good nights sleep was truly a miracle for me. Uhhhhh relaxation at last.
What an phenomenal day with both friends and family. It is both a blessing and a curse to have a birthday on New Year’s Eve. The expectations are almost always unimaginably high and the stress of the perfect plans for both the new year and my birthday can be quite daunting. However, every year it seems to fall together a week (or days) before and prove to be memorable.
This year I was lucky enough to score tickets to Winter Fest from my step dad. My sister and I headed downtown to watch our favorite hockey players, from when we were kids, rock out on an outdoor arena while we had a party flask of apple pie moonshine and froze our butts off. By a crowd on the way to the game I was asked if I was turning 12, and the bartender onsite asked if it was my 21st birthday (I guess this was an upgrade from the first). Actually I am the big 25 (the beginning of the downward slope to thirty as I keep calling it). Give me 10 years and I’ll be thanking the heavens for my youthful looks, but as for now… mehh. However, the game was a blast and I may have been frozen to the core when we finally decided to leave.
I took a quick power rest and headed to dinner with my girlfriends. We went to an upscale Asian restaurant (I’ve written about having 3am egg rolls there) and froze our butts our tromping around in heals and mini dresses. Next it was off to a hotel party for NYE. We got there around 11pm and thought WTH are we late, because everyone seemed to be wasted. We started throwing down the drinks to play catch up immediately.
A guy helping out the bartender looked familiar. He kept stealing glances and eventually asked me, “Did you play basketball?” I stared at him in disbelief simply responding, “Do I look like I played basketball?” haha. Seriously I’m 5’3” and would never put money on myself in a basketball game. Turns out he was a douchy guy a couple years ahead of me in high school. He tried to go for me once and I shut him down because of his already promiscuous ways and reputation. The rest of the night whenever he entered the room he yelled,”__my last name__’s in the house!” Don’t worry, not awkward at all….
Soon we found ourselves under the balloons on the dance floor counting down to the New Year. Smiles, cheers, and laughs were all around as the clock stuck midnight. Well, except for a girlfriend that easily landed a stranger to suck face with.
We spent our night between making friends at an open bar in the front room and bonding on the infamous “red couch” and dancing the night away. The balloons that had popped everywhere and spilled alcohol was a recipe for disaster. The dance floor was like an oil slick, but that didn’t hold us down. We’d wipe our straight to our asses and simply get back up and dance on! Thinking back this is a great metaphor for the year past and year to come. Why sit and pout? Life is going to continually knock you on your ass. We just need to get up, keep dancing, and get another drink.
At some point we stumbled back to the car with our lovely designated driver and made it home around 5. Needless to say I spent the whole next day in bed.
This was likely my best New Year’s yet. I am so blessed to have my friends and family. I would do anything for my sister and the good times my friends provide are countless. For 2014, I can only hope to show them how thankful I truly am.
I’ve written before about my ex that’s half Indian. He’s super gorgeous, we were friends for years, dated, he sucked, I broke up with him, we later became friends, he had a new girlfriend, we made out, I hated him, we became friends again, and that leads us to current day. So the Indian is currently living in Chicago and we had been talking quite a bit for months. We would tell each other about people we were dating, complain about random things, and laugh about old times.
So he came back to town over his winter holiday (he is studying still in Chicago). I made him dinner at my place and then we went to a winery downtown and laughed over drinks and Jack Johnson. After we headed to another restaurant for drinks and apps and he started to get touchy. He was putting his arm around me, kissing my forehead, the whole shebang. At the same time he was getting very jealous that the busboy kept staring at me which made me laugh even harder and him get even closer. Later we slid through the streets to the local pub for more drinks and pool. It was a blast. Soon we were on a couch and he was pulling my face to his. We headed back to my place through the snow & ice and one thing led to another. Strangely enough I used to rank him as one of my top 2-3 (out of 7 mind you). And while it was good… just not as good as I remembered. Lucky for me though I was very well focused on after.
A few days later he came over again. We watch our favorite shows, he cuddled me while I was upset over a family matter, and again, one thing lead to another. The most funny part is I had told him before that the Ginger, while good, had always came very quickly. As things escalated, he happened to this time. Immediately he hung he head, chuckled, and muttered “ah, I’m just like your ex boyfriend.” I immediately belted out laughing and even more so to my amusement he was my ex as well.
A few days later he was off to Chicago. The next day was my birthday and I must admit I was a bit annoyed he was going back so soon. To my surprise the next day I received a very cute card from him in the mail which a long note written inside. It was heartfelt and quite easily made me smile.
As for now, it’s back to the way things were before he showed up. We occasionally text, occasionally ring, and nothing has changed. Whoever says once you go there you can never go back with friends must be an alarmist. Both the Womanizer and the Indian and I are all great friends. It is not awkward when we talk or hang out. I still like both of them as friends very much. I am just very aware that neither are boyfriend material. Their love of attention, girls, and cuddling is at a high and they’ve got a long way to go.
My sister had a bad feeling. We hadn’t heard from my mom and when we finally did something seemed off. My sister insisted on making the trip to check in on her and I pleaded with her to wait the extra half hour so that I could leave straight from a work meeting. Of course, she couldn’t and went straight away.
I continually texted and called her begging to wait for me. I had that same terrible feeling and knew the situation wasn’t going to be good. Eventually she rang me back in hysterics telling me not to go over there. She wouldn’t give me any details except that mom was wasted and her sleaze ex-boyfriend was there. She apparently freaked out and said she was choosing him over us and we didn’t understand. She wouldn’t speak any longer and I insisted to check in on the situation.
I rang all the buzzers hoping someone would answer and let me in the apartment building. I banged on the door for near to five minutes with my finger over the peephole just waiting for someone to answer. I finally heard the click of the lock and the door cracked with my disheveled and wasted mother appearing behind it. I pushed the door to make my way in. Her words were slurred and nothing made sense. I made my way back to the bedroom and gasped in horror. Her ex was laying on the bed, unconscious, and blood was everywhere. There was blood spattered over the white sheets, across the walls, and covering his face.
My heart nearly leapt through my chest and I went to the living room to call 911. All the while my mother was yelling at me. Saying why was I doing this to her, he was fine, and occasionally popping into the bedroom where I heard her trying to coax him to get up. I begged and pleaded with her to stay. That I was only trying to help. That he was hurt and needed an ambulance.
The police finally showed up and at first my mom said she did it. He eventually came to and said my sister did the damage and my mother confirmed. My sister said he had backed her up against the wall and at some point glasses were smashed and he was hit with an ice scraper she apparently brought in. I’m still not sure what part of whose stories are true and what is false. I’m not sure I care to know either.
The paramedics took her ex and the police asked me if I’d be okay with her. I told them I honestly didn’t know what to do or how to handle the situation. They asked me if I wanted to try to have her admitted and I told them yes. She was aggressive and yelled at the police when they told her she’d be going to the hospital to be examined. I pleaded with her to calm down and they were only there to help.
I followed the ambulance to the hospital and waited for them to admit her. During this time her ex’s son showed up in the emergency room as well. I kept my head down as I heard him ask the name of the man. I met with a social worker and filed out paperwork to have my mother’s rights taken away. Never could I have imagined this happening. Sitting in a hospital in the middle of the night saying my mother wasn’t mentally stable and was a threat to herself.
I saw her before I left and she was still wasted and cried and cried apologizing. She could not be evaluated until she was legally sober and the hospital promised to keep me updated.
I got the call at 6am from the hospital telling me they were going to release her. I was shocked and devastated. She has been in and out of rehab so many times I knew that she knew exactly what they wanted to her so that she could be released.
I talked to her here and there after trying to help support her sobriety. She has been going to meetings, has gotten a sponsor, is working, etc. I didn’t want her to go over the edge again. I stood up for her to my sister daily about how she wasn’t a horrible person and she needed to talk to her. Then through my family I hear she had moved. Turns out she moved in with that guy. That asshole guy that was going to press charges against my sister so she would never be able to be a nurse. That asshole guy that called my brother a faggot and talked about “his kind.” That asshole guy that insists on ruining our family and poisoning my mother.
I told her it was her choice. And that she avoided telling anyone for so long because she knew what that meant. Our relationship is now over. I cannot ride this roller coaster of ups and downs. She’s here, she’s there, she’s disappeared again. It’s time for me to realize that I cannot help her, I am not her parent, and as a grown up she will make her own decisions. However, so many of the memories will forever be scarred to my own heart. The missed holidays, the absence from my college graduation, the blood on the walls…
I can only thank God that he has blessed me with a strong head on my shoulders and so many wonderful people in my life.