Cancer February

I am starting to really dislike February.

No, it's not because we are pounded with snow all month and I am heavily stricken with cabin fever enough to make me want to take my hair dryer outside to play Cowboys and Indians with the falling flakes. Ok, so it's a reason, but not the biggest one as of late.

February is cancer check up time. February is holy-crap-you-have-to-actually-wonder-if-you-have-cancer-again month. It's a national holiday in our house.

So the blood draw came back similarly to what it had before. The numbers looked good, but not perfect. Does that mean I have cancer? Not necessarily. Does it mean I don't have cancer? Not necessarily. Does it mean I may go out of my mind and actually blast my hair dryer outside to relieve some stress? Maybe.

Take that pretty, white snow! Ahh, I feel better now.

After trying to figure out what the heck my numbers meant and laughing once again at the word "thyroglobulin" (that reminds me, I need to watch Ghostbusters again. I suddenly miss Slimer), my doc ran her fingers across my neck for old time's sake.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

"Let's get you in the ultrasound room," she said.

That doesn't make me at all alarmed. Docs always want to spend extra time with you.

So off we went to the ultrasound room. She glopped my neck up with some- well, glop- and went to it. More quiet. Then a "Let me go get another doctor to take a look." Jeez, why don't you just call in the mortician?

Doc #2 slaps the wand down and they started talking like I wasn't there.

Doc #2: "If I was going to be worried about something, it'd be that right there!"
Doc #1: "Oh that there? And that too? That's the side the cancer was on."
Doc#2: "I had a lady like this and we kept looking and looking and then I just sent her to surgery. You will want to watch that and maybe biopsy it."

All this, mind you, is set to the ever pleasant elevator-tune version of "My Heart Will Go On" from Titanic playing on the CD player. Jeez, I really do hope my heart goes on after this. It sounds like it might not. Maybe they did call the mortician. Sooo, what now, doc?

I never knew what a confusing journey this would be. I am more afraid of being treated with radiation again than actually hearing if I have cancer again. I like the few memory-related brain cells I have left and if I get treated again I fear I may not know my own name. I guess we will see what happens.

So more blood work in 4 weeks. If anything changes again, more testing.

Here's to February (sound of glasses clinking). She sure isn't what she used to be.