Thursday, September 8, 2011

You put your left hand in, you take your left hand out...

After whining yesterday about my life being pathetic, it was like the heavens opened up and showered me with blog fodder! (Thank you, Confessions of a Corn Fed Girl for coining the phrase blog fodder. It has come in handy a lot!)

Yesterday I had this little thing planned called an Annual Exam with my favorite snarky gyno. It was a requirement that my doctor be skilled in sarcasm and I found the best. She has a Polish accent and even referred to me as Kermit the Frog due to my lack of those things that hang down in the back of your throat.

Anyway, yesterday she introduced me to the wonderful world of the Rectal Exam after I joked about the return of hemorrhoids and my solemn vow to never do THAT again! Oh, I'm sorry; you're uncomfortable? Imagine how I felt.

Then came the magic words: you just bought yourself a colonoscopy, lady. Because apparently there are no hemorrhoids. Which, means I've obviously got cancer. Because that's how my mind works. And the good doctor looked at me with her head cocked and said, you really are one of my most anxiety filled patients. (I took that to mean I'm her favorite.) And then she told me all about irritable bowel syndrome and all sorts of intestinal issues other than cancer that I can also obsess over. You know, just in case I run out of fear-filled obsessions.

After I left, I realized she never felt me up. I mean, conducted a breast exam. Don't they do that anymore? Or is this something I'm expected to do on my own? Because I have no problem poking my booby tissue, but what the heck do I know about what's supposed to be there and what isn't? What if I miss something? I'm not a doctor. This is just way too much responsibility and pressure for me.

To get my mind off of my certain death sentence things, I talked to my sister who is starting a new job soon. Don't even bother asking me what she does; I have no idea. I just know that she's legally allowed to put capital letters after her signature and that she'll get a company car. To which I believe it would be beyond awesome if her company hooked her up with a 1973 bright gold Impala. And she would totally be game if they threw in a Roy Orbison 8-track. But she hasn't said anything about sporting the hot pink velour tracksuit I suggested as office wear. I'll keep working on her. Because I'm pretty sure if I saw my highly educated sister roll up in a gold tank wearing a pink tracksuit I could honestly say my life was complete. Well, as long as it happens after I share my colonoscopy experience...



Some types of cancer can be found before they cause symptoms. Research shows that using certain screening tests regularly will reduce deaths from some types of cancers. These types include Breast Cancer, Cervical Cancer and Colon & Rectal Cancer. Don’t be embarrassed; just get screened.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

I'm all out of Snark. Unless they serve it at Pizza Ranch.

I have nothing to blog about. Because my life is no longer funny. My life is merely pathetic. Mostly because it took me a week to figure out the gross odor wafting through the house wasn't Big V's shoes after all, but rather the oversized freezer we keep in the basement with all the meat in it. We lost a cow. So we spent the day cleaning up stinky room temperature meat dripping gallons of blood. I was so busy cursing I didn't realize the awesomeness of the situation; my sister did.

"Did you take all the meat out of the butcher paper and then wrap it up in a large carpet roll bound with duct tape and haul it to the end of the road?"

What?! No!

Opportunity Lost.

And then one of my favorite older lady person who is really spry and someone I would love to be like when I'm almost 80 (because she's kind of nutty) came into my place of employment and was all I haven't seen you since Thanksgiving and -- oh my goodness! I didn't know you were expecting! And then she placed her hand on my stomach and rubbed it. Yes. Rubbed it.
And I looked at her and said I'm not pregnant; I'm just fat. And she continued rubbing my belly while she leaned in close to my ear and whispered oh, honey, you can tell me! And then she winked.

And then I went back to my desk and fought back tears while eating a candy bar. Emotional eater much? And I was so busy licking the chocolate out of the corner of my mouth that I didn't notice the awesomeness of the situation: my sister did.

"Did you lean in real close and say, "Yes.... but try to keep it quiet because the father is [insert obnoxious politician's name here]?"

What?! No!

Again: opportunity lost.

Something is terribly wrong with me. I'm losing my snark. But don't worry, I've got a doctor's appointment scheduled to look into this. Meanwhile, I'm thinking of asking my sister to guest blog on this site to carry it along until I'm back on my feet.

Here's the latest text my sister sent me:
Did you call me 2x in a row to tell me about Pizza Ranch?

Yes. Yes, I did. And then I'll talk to you about guest blogging.