Boobie Ravioli

Challenges are what you make them.  Some are challenged by too many people in line at the gas station.  Others are challenged by the death of a loved one.

Life, as all four of my grandparents who lived through the Great Depression, insisted that it was what you made it.

Yesterday I went in for a second mammogram.  The first? "Oh, there's some sort of mass there."  I hear mass and I think high school physics.  Or math.  What ever happened to cyst? Or bump? I guess "mass" is more official and acceptable on insurance forms.  In I go, getting mammo #2.  I even had a pager like at Chili's to call me in!

The mass? Oh yeah.  Not a fluke.  On to an ultrasound.  Why do I cry there?  Nineteen years ago I lay on a table, looking at two heartbeats with an ultrasound.  Now?  Just a "mass" in my boobie.  I reveal this to the ever-so-sweet technician.

"But your heart is there!  Remember that!" she reminds me.  I guess I forgot. There are always the kidlets.  Kidlet A.  Kidlet B.  Nineteen years ago I saw an image on an ultrasound, and my world, it seems, began. 

In comes the doctor.  He explains to me I'll need a biopsy.  Cool.  Doctor Dude is very professional, but at the same time laid back enough to make me feel comfortable and able to laugh.

"You're ok with this? You're not upset?  Do you want to talk?" he probes.

I honestly don't. I have no reaction at all.  I am not lying.  Why?

"I have a niece who is a poster child for Children's Hospital.  She's one of my idols. And so is her twin brother for all the support he gives her. And her parents.  A biopsy? Nothin'.  I got this!" is my response.

I don't tell him the whole story.  That I am surrounded by people who love me, and for that I am so damn lucky.  I dont' want to reveal personal information about why I admire the people that I do.  Open-heart surgeries.  Multiple sclerosis.  Depression.  Leukemia.  Alzeheimer's.  The people who care for these people. And the people who care for me. 

I had the biopsy.  The compared the injections of the titanium pieces as a pen click, but then Doctor Dude confessed, "It's more like a staple gun." I don't know why I thought that was awesome.  The nurse did tell me I will **not** go off in airport security, which completely bummed me out. I so want to go off in airport security, going to Washington, DC, with a group of eighth graders to I can shout out, "It's OK! Profe Morris has TITANIUM BOOBS!" 

I was given what I now call the "Boobie Ravioli" to chill the area. See below:

Of course I have compared it to a roll of washi tape so you can see how big it is.  'Cause washi tape is life, ya know?  I put it in the freezer after about forty minutes to re-freeze.  I warned the Kidlets to not put it in a drink. I warned Boyfriend Boy to not put that nor my Boobie in a drink. Haha.  I am so funny.  Kidlet B said he'd add it to his collection.  Um, this disturbed me a bit, but we'll discuss that later.  Is he really collecting Boobie Ravioli? How?!?

I had an awesome afternoon with DiverseScience, laughing over chocolate-peanut-butter-espresso shakes.  Then Boyfriend Boy even agreed to hug me sideways.  And Ex-Husband and I had an amazing discussion about not only my condition, the Kidlets, but his own mom, who is struggling with a severe injury.  Good thoughts to her, please. 

My mom.  My dad.  Wearing his Nermal pin and snacking on M&M's as we discussed war books.  Normalcy.  The support.  I accidentally texted my mom to say the "mass" was 7cm.  Oops. Good thing I didn't major in physics.  She freaked! It is only 7mm.  I am blessed to have such an attentive, caring family.

Awhile ago I saw the strips and left-over blood (or whatever the term is called!) and was taken aback, and I'll admit I lied down for a bit with Nermal and Seal...

Every adult needs a stuffed animal.  Just sayin'.  And a pet? One that sleeps under the covers like a human?

We all need someone.  Something.  If I didn't mention you here, please know that I do APPRECIATE YOU!  I am so lucky to have so many of you in my life.  Hot dang - YES! 

Always remember that, "YOU GOT THIS!"  Health, emotions, wealth, everything.  Bring It ON!

With love,
MausiGal

Tear In My Heart

Wow.  No posts since February?  What's up with that?

I'll tell you what's up with that.

Who am I?

What do I stand for?

Is it a political party? A union?  An organization?

None of the above.

It's flowers from a friend you just met, who also loves vintage books, maps, and postcards.  Laughing with friends over a broken blender and other things.  Laughing so hard you thing you need to pee. That laughter. When was the last time you had it?  Can't remember? You need it. You need it now.  

I like to think I support people, in so many ways.  But what disturbs me?  Traditional ways bring on entitlement.  Yes.  You may look at me, the white girl driving the Volvo.  But when I speak Spanish, or a vernacular not my own?  I try.  I may have grown up in the 'burbs of Boston, but don't always judge a book by it's cover.  Just sayin'.  I have been blessed that so many people out in the neighborhoods embrace me and speak to me in Spanish.  So awesome.  A shoutout to the Savers in Framingham who asked if my family was from Argentina!  

More to come. So many thoughts...