Wednesday, October 21, 2015

The September Sessions (A Month Late)

I was thinking about Grape-Nuts yesterday, I have no idea why. The cereal. Something about October makes me more nostalgic than usual, and I was thinking that I want to get some Grape-Nuts. I haven't had them in probably 20 years, and though I remember them being pretty gritty terrible dry, I also remember loving the sound of eating them, how it sounded like footsteps on gravel, how that was enough.

It is October and Zoey is officially cooler than I am. This year she started guitar lessons and skateboarding at the ramp. I look at her and the 9 year old inside of me wants to be her friend. So does the 15 year old inside of me, the 43 year old, though I also know I have to be her mother first. I look at her and I remember October as the beginning of everything, at Ozzy planting little seeds in Dixie cups waiting for what to grow. I am lucky in that I had a happy childhood, safe, a childhood in which the sound of footsteps on gravel was a pretty noise. This weekend we will have Grape-Nuts for breakfast.

Friday, October 16, 2015


This is not a sad post, or a depressing post, but it is a post to say that I feel like I got punched in the throat. Probably because I just got stabbed in the throat with a needle 3 times, but that's cool. I liked it.

Which is to say I have thyroid nodules. I've known about them for a few years now--they discovered them on my first MRI. Yep, I was diagnosed with MS and then told I had nodules that might be cancerous, so that was a fun week. But they were not cancerous. Just nodules. No biggie. I get them ultrasounded every 6 months and am always told to just come in if anything changes.

Last week I noticed a big lump on my throat. Bryan said it was just my Adam's apple until I told him that women do not have Adam's apples. 


I should also say that someone left me a mean comment on my last post, something about how I need to call 1-800-hypochondria, which isn't even a clever diss since hypochondria is not 7 letters. They also said that too many high risk medical procedures can ruin my health and well being. Well. Being that I was called a hypochondriac for 15 years because I thought I had MS, only to be diagnosed with it years later, I did not like that comment. And colonoscopies are not unnecessary, particularly if you have a family history of colon cancer, which I do. They found a polyp and removed it. Win/win, FTW, WTF.

I deleted that comment.

So the lump in my neck scared me. But I was calm. I made an appointment. And Googled the hell out of thyroid lumps only to find that they are called goiters. Guys. I have a goiter. Is there an uglier word than goiter? Don't even with the moist. It's too easy to hate moist. Turd is bad, but not worse than goiter. I think the only word worse is anus. At least I don't have a goiter on my anus right next to the bunion that causes me gout. 

But I digress. Whatever you do, don't Google goiter. Because the internet is full of what-the-hell-is-happening-on-that-person's-neck. 

So rather than put pictures of goiters in this post, I am putting in photos of my family. Because that is why I am so afraid of goiters and colon cancer, of MS, of driving too fast and not chewing my food. These silly people who I come home to every day.
This is not a sad post. Or a depressing post. This is a post about how much I need to stay alive and healthy to be there for my family. 

It is also a post to say that I just had my appointment for my goiter, and the doctor ultrasounded it and said she is not worried that it is cancerous. Nevertheless, she did a fine needle aspiration and we will know in two weeks. However, she's not worried, so I'm not worried.

This is a post to tell you that I have a goiter, but it just looks like a small, off-center Adam's apple. I already knew I had balls, but now I also have an Adam's apple. 

But I also have this.
And this.
And because of that, I am the luckiest wobbly-walking, goiter-y swallowing, clean colon'ed non-hypochondriac woman who will keep pressing boobs, glands and buttons if that means I get to raise these big-eyed people well into their adulthood.

So there it is. I have a goiter. Just don't stare at it, thanks.

No, seriously. Don't look at it.