Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Some of my friends will tell you that I am a nice person. Some of my friends will tell you I'm annoying and bossy and dramatic. Today I will tell you that I am pissed off and over ALL OF IT! Ugh. I was scheduled for a bilateral boobilage MRI tomorrow. This lovely and pleasant exam was ordered by my cutie baby boobilage surgeon to get a good look at my Left Breast Mass. Today, thre self-serving, self-righteous, arrogant, bloody ignorant boobless Dr for BlueCross / BlueShield DENIED MY MRI. Not only did he deny it, he said the insurancee company will IN NO WAY APPROVE IT! I think it's because it isn't HIS breast mass, or his wife's, or his mother's, thank God. Well the next step is up to the surgeon. I told him today, I don't care what we do, as long as we do SOMETHING, and do it SOON. I hate insurance companies. The word of the day is ~ obtuse
Sunday, January 25, 2009
A few people have inquired about my boobilage reference, so I thought I'd elaborate. Breasts, boobs, tits, tatas, rack, knockers, hooters, the girls; there are a lot of words used to refer to the anatomical feature that so much of advertising, and fantasy revolve around. I prefer tatas, or boobilage, or the girls. I have a pretty nice "set" from what I've heard. You'd think they had eyes or something the way so many people speak directly to them. Hmmm. Anyway, until the middle of 2008 I considered them "there". Nothing special, just there. I think some women will understand that. Last year my Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, and a few months later, after beating cancer, died from complications related to the preventive chemotherapy she was receiving. Needless to say, tatas took on a bigger role in our family. (Ha, no pun intended.) :o) So this past Friday I had to see Dr. Kammerlocher, my favorite surgeon. Dr. K. is the man who I allowed to cut my throat open in April '07 to remove half of my thryroid. He's a cutie baby. He's funny, and kind, and an excellent surgeon. He's also the surgeon of choice for the "thing" in my left breast. He had all my mammogram films, and the ultrasound report and sat next to me to read them to me, like a medical bedtime story. As we discussed the parenchymal breast tissue and the density of breast tissue, he smiled and said he was the smart guy necessary for Blue Cross / Blue Shield to allow me to have a breast MRI. As he examines my 46 yr old saggy left boob he says "yeah, I feel a mass." Not a thing, or a lump, or a shadow ~ he felt a mass. To add to the surreality (is that a word?) of the moment, he calls Laurie over to the exam table and teaches her how to do the exam he's doing, and explains that partners / husbands / best friends should be performing this exam on one another monthly. And with that, he gave me a ticket for admittance to the medical circus that is now my left breast, boob, tata, hooter. The show includes an MRI, biopsy, and possible surgery, lumpectomy, removal at a later date. The ticket is also good for admission for as many family members, friends, and complete strangers as my oyster can hold. No one, except me, has to attend. Mine is the only mandatory attendance. The MRI is this coming Wednesday, and they may or may not do the biopsy then. I see Dr. K on Feb. 6th to discuss the results. Then, who knows? So that's the story of the boobilage, tatas, hooters, tits, rack, set, udders, tub toys, the girls. I'll let you all know how it goes, as it goes. In the meantime, check your breasts, and your friend's, daughter's, sister's too. Make it an event. Laugh, cry, talk, but do it. Did I ever tell you I HATE the circus? :o) Oh yeah - the word of the day is acerbic. Edited 04/26/09 because my lovely daughter pointed out I'd spelled acerbic incorrectly. WooT!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Do you have a blog, or website, where I can get to know you? Ummm, no. It was an interesting question. Why would anyone want to read about me, my thoughts, my ordinary day-to-day stuff? I wouldn't. Oh wait, that's because I'm in it. My life is boring, ordinary, unremarkable. Except that it really isn't. Nothing about my Oyster is even close to ordinary. Bahahaha, what a concept "ordinary" is. To begin with, I can't even type it correctly. Oh, I know how to spell it, I just can't seem to get my typing brain to get it right. Not once in this paragraph have I typed it correctly the first time. (Maybe that's because I spent too much time laughing in Ms. Hamilton's typing class back in the day.) To get on with things, after being asked that question last week, I have given blogging a great deal of consideration. Garret blogs, and makes me laugh, sympathize, and mostly miss him. His blog is a work of creative insanity. He makes videos, and slide shows, and it's incredible. His blog has become a daily activity for me, as important as brushing my teeth twice a day. But I can't blog like that. I don't have the know-how to make videos, and I'm not travelling the country in an RV like a crazy person. My Oyster involves a growing city in SWFL, which I affectionately refer to as The Face of the Sun. I've lived here for 10 years with my best friend, and partner, Laurie, and our 3 amazing and exasperating kids. We have a menagerie which consists of 3 dogs, 2 cats and a brine shrimp in a bioquarium. My sister, and her 2 dogs have lived with us for the past year. See? Not ordinary. Laurie and I are fortunate to work for our City Government in different divisions doing very different jobs. We both work with great friends, and really like what we do. These 2 factors make that Monday - Friday 8 hour sentence not only bearable, but frequently laugh til you cry fun. 1 of our 3 offspring has left our house (can't say I blame him) and moved in with his dad, step-mom, 4 of his 6 step-siblings, 3 step-nieces and nephews, and something like 6 dogs, snakes, and who knows what else. He says it's quieter there...I believe him. We have a large circle of "acquired" children. My daughter's friends wander in and out regularly, and most of them consider us their "other" moms. They talk to us about their lives, dreams, hurts, and allow us to tease, comfort, guide and love them. God has been very gracious in granting us this gift. I love these kids. Don't get me wrong - they make me crazy but they make me laugh too. I can't imagine life without the ebb and flow of teenage chaos that surrounds me. Well, I guess this is boring enough. I have a lot to say, about everything. My director at work says I'm loquacious. Look it up. I, of course, believe he meant it as a compliment. Those of you who know me, think what you want. :o) As usual, there's a lot going on in my Oyster ~ Laurie's ankle mis-adventure; Kathryn working toward Graduation; my never-say-die EX-factor (ugh); my boobilage and "thing" in the left side; and don't even get me started on the vortex that is Jordan. Oy, my head hurts just writing that. Anyway, I'll be back to write more. I hope that you find some of it entertaining, enlightening, or maybe just the thing to make you appreciate the ordinariness of your own lives. Until then ~ the word of the day is: Hope Oh, by the way, not once did I type ORDINARY correctly the first time. Not even this time. :::sigh:::