The Chapter No One Wants a/k/a The C Word
When my girls were really young I blogged a lot.
It was my way of getting thoughts out of my mind and processing things, it was a way to connect with people and learn. I loved it, I was focused and treated it like a job even though it didn't pay (at the time that wasn't a thing and once it became a thing I never figured out how to capitalize on it).
I can't even recall when I finally wrapped it all up but I know I wrote a lot from 2003 through 2008. To this day I have buckets of friends from blogging that I still could among my closest friends.
I'm turning to blogging again.
I can't even recall when I finally wrapped it all up but I know I wrote a lot from 2003 through 2008. To this day I have buckets of friends from blogging that I still could among my closest friends.
I'm turning to blogging again.
I used to be The Kept Woman, I was, as the title of the blog suggests a Nomadic Mama but now I've been in one location for nearly eight years. That is mind-boggling, but here we are. I'm now very much a middle aged mama to two adult ladies and a very nearly high school graduate. I'm still married to a guy named Gru and for seven years I had a really great job that I absolutely loved. I left that job in February which was sad AF but that's a story for another day.
Now in May I'm finding that I have a new title. Potential Cancer Wife. Wife of Cancer Guy. Well, we'll work on that, neither of those roll off the tongue.
I was in Arkansas two weeks ago working on our condo, getting it ready for our college girls to move in for the summer. When I walked in the bathroom sink, fridge, toilet, dryer, and fridge worked.
The oven, kitchen sink, dishwasher, shower/tub, microwave, washing machine and SURPRISE! The HVAC were all not working. We hired a plumber and everything he looked at was an issue. Spencer, the plumber was great, it was all the history of the place that wasn't great. Every time Spencer looked at me and was like, "So....." I wanted to cry.
The stress of getting this condo livable in a week was consuming me.
Until I got that call from Gru.
He was on the verge of tears. He had a UTI about eight months ago and went to see a urologist. Men are pretty simple creatures in many ways- they see a doctor when they're sick, maybe for a check-up (if their wives nag them), but that's about it. Women see doctors all the time...pap smears, mammograms, pregnancy, pains- women see doctors that aren't theirs too- pediatricians, and orthopedic doctors when their kids are injured.
Or maybe this is just the way it is in my house.
Anyway, doctors and medical stuff is not my husband's idea of fun at all.
Now in May I'm finding that I have a new title. Potential Cancer Wife. Wife of Cancer Guy. Well, we'll work on that, neither of those roll off the tongue.
I was in Arkansas two weeks ago working on our condo, getting it ready for our college girls to move in for the summer. When I walked in the bathroom sink, fridge, toilet, dryer, and fridge worked.
The oven, kitchen sink, dishwasher, shower/tub, microwave, washing machine and SURPRISE! The HVAC were all not working. We hired a plumber and everything he looked at was an issue. Spencer, the plumber was great, it was all the history of the place that wasn't great. Every time Spencer looked at me and was like, "So....." I wanted to cry.
The stress of getting this condo livable in a week was consuming me.
Until I got that call from Gru.
He was on the verge of tears. He had a UTI about eight months ago and went to see a urologist. Men are pretty simple creatures in many ways- they see a doctor when they're sick, maybe for a check-up (if their wives nag them), but that's about it. Women see doctors all the time...pap smears, mammograms, pregnancy, pains- women see doctors that aren't theirs too- pediatricians, and orthopedic doctors when their kids are injured.
Or maybe this is just the way it is in my house.
Anyway, doctors and medical stuff is not my husband's idea of fun at all.
But the call.
He fired the Urologist #1 who just wanted to do blood draws every so often to check his PSA level. PSA, in this case means Prostate- Specific Antigen. That's all I can tell you about it because I literally Googled it as I was writing this. Sometimes it was higher than others but nothing alarming according to the doctor. Gru was annoyed because he is absolutely not a fan of needles in the first place (childhood medical trauma) so the blood draws, numbers being reported, and a doctor who kind of whipped in and out of the room without much, if any, conversation was not working for him.
He fired the Urologist #1 who just wanted to do blood draws every so often to check his PSA level. PSA, in this case means Prostate- Specific Antigen. That's all I can tell you about it because I literally Googled it as I was writing this. Sometimes it was higher than others but nothing alarming according to the doctor. Gru was annoyed because he is absolutely not a fan of needles in the first place (childhood medical trauma) so the blood draws, numbers being reported, and a doctor who kind of whipped in and out of the room without much, if any, conversation was not working for him.
Gru hired Urologist #2, saw him, did the blood test but this time there was something alarming and I was two states away. I listened to him say that his PSA number seemed fine but something called the 4K Score seemed not great. Gru was teary and shaky. I could hear the fear in his voice.
Urologist #2 left a voicemail for Gru saying he would need an MRI and a biopsy. These words themselves are not scary but what they indicate are terrifying. Cancer, radiology, mortality, pain, suffering, all these bad things came flooding into Gru's mind. He couldn't verbalize these things, but I knew. With the shaking in his voice I knew where his mind was going.
Last week we did the MRI which was traumatic for Gru as he does not like it when he is not in control and there was an IV involved. The MRI showed two tumors. I haven't seen the report but it's crazy to me that we load up these things into people's portals with zero communication nor explanation.
I am of the mindset that I would rather not look at these things and spiral the fuck out until it's time to spiral the fuck out. I want a medical professional to tell me what it all means and what we need to do, you take that shit to Google and you're a dead man walking. Every time. You have a fever? You're dying. You have a headache? You have a brain tumor. Pain in your leg? Dying.
The internet, like patient portals, is a both a blessing a a curse.
Anyway, here we are. Tomorrow we have the biopsy. Am I terrified? Totally.
Life is like this I suppose. Honestly we were in a place up until a few weeks ago where everything seemed kind of like smooth sailing. Mid-life stuff, kids growing up, day to day stuff but things were "fine".
Things right now definitely don't seem fine. Again, I don't want to spiral out until the doctor says it's time but my mind can't help but to think about all the "What Ifs" and some of those are super not great.
I don't know if this writing is any good, it's definitely not entertaining and light-hearted like I'm used to but I guess that's where I'm at right now.
This morning I told Gru I was going to Aldi to do some grocery shopping and asked if there was anything he needed.
In his uncaffeinated state he grumbled, "A new prostate."
"I don't think the Aisle of Shame has those this time of year, I think that's more of a November item."
"Well then painkillers."
So, in the case that this silly post reaches anyone who might have any connections to the Aldi purchasing department feel free to pass those suggestions on.
peace xo
Urologist #2 left a voicemail for Gru saying he would need an MRI and a biopsy. These words themselves are not scary but what they indicate are terrifying. Cancer, radiology, mortality, pain, suffering, all these bad things came flooding into Gru's mind. He couldn't verbalize these things, but I knew. With the shaking in his voice I knew where his mind was going.
Last week we did the MRI which was traumatic for Gru as he does not like it when he is not in control and there was an IV involved. The MRI showed two tumors. I haven't seen the report but it's crazy to me that we load up these things into people's portals with zero communication nor explanation.
I am of the mindset that I would rather not look at these things and spiral the fuck out until it's time to spiral the fuck out. I want a medical professional to tell me what it all means and what we need to do, you take that shit to Google and you're a dead man walking. Every time. You have a fever? You're dying. You have a headache? You have a brain tumor. Pain in your leg? Dying.
The internet, like patient portals, is a both a blessing a a curse.
Anyway, here we are. Tomorrow we have the biopsy. Am I terrified? Totally.
Life is like this I suppose. Honestly we were in a place up until a few weeks ago where everything seemed kind of like smooth sailing. Mid-life stuff, kids growing up, day to day stuff but things were "fine".
Things right now definitely don't seem fine. Again, I don't want to spiral out until the doctor says it's time but my mind can't help but to think about all the "What Ifs" and some of those are super not great.
I don't know if this writing is any good, it's definitely not entertaining and light-hearted like I'm used to but I guess that's where I'm at right now.
This morning I told Gru I was going to Aldi to do some grocery shopping and asked if there was anything he needed.
In his uncaffeinated state he grumbled, "A new prostate."
"I don't think the Aisle of Shame has those this time of year, I think that's more of a November item."
"Well then painkillers."
So, in the case that this silly post reaches anyone who might have any connections to the Aldi purchasing department feel free to pass those suggestions on.
peace xo
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