A Series of Unfortunate Events (with a Couple of Good Ones), To Be Followed by Some Really Good Days in General
I'm doing this synopsis because every time I sit down to write a real post, my butt catches fire and I have to jump back up and put it out.
Started with a visit with my favorite Cooter War Doc, Doctor S. I was hoping to grill the ultrasound tech as well For My Own Personal Reasons (which will come up here shortly, you'll see), but there wasn't one and the good doc did the deed himself. He complimented me again on my perfectly diseased ovaries (“Textbook photo, really. Perfect examples.”) and...couldn't find anything else wrong.
“I believe you about the pain. I want you to know that,” he said. “It's like when your car is making a noise and you take it into the mechanic and he can't find anything wrong and it stops making that noise and you want to tear your or his hair out. But please don't tear my hair out.”
I love Doc S.
“I have some options for you, but I don't like any of them. So you get to pick,” he went on. “I hate putting patients on medication, and I hate seeing them in pain. And...those are our only options.”
Option 1: “Limp your way to menopause.”
Option 2: “Switch you to Provera, which is a pill, which I hate doing.”
Option 3: “Put you on The Pill, which, again, is a pill.” I reminded him of my Pill history and he said, “Oh. I don't think you want that then.” (And he's right. I really don't want a stroke, thank you.)
Option 4: “Total laparoscopic hysterectomy. Despite the controversy, I would put you on estrogen replacement therapy, because you are too young. And, I would take your uterus too, because well...”
He didn't like what he found in there the last time. Thinking about this option makes the edges of the room go all black and I have to sit down.
(And my eyes are leaking again. This was supposed to be FUNNY, dammit.)
Then, a Good Thing last week. We got Jo moved into her new pad with relatively little muss and fuss and nothing broken. And I drove home in a blizzard which, with the snow coming straight at my windshield, made me feel like Han Solo hitting hyperspace. And really, who DOESN'T want to be Han Solo hitting hyperspace?
And then there was the Incoming Kindergärtners Orientation. I had these plans, see? Kindergarten is only half days, but there is a supplemental program, which turns some of those half days into whole days, and those whole days would allow me to...
...go back to school myself. Woot.
I even know what I want to do this time around. But I'll save that for another post, because this one is ridiculously long and convoluted and I don't have this guy's skills to pull it off.
Anyway. Then I found out that the supplemental program, which is in a tax-supported public school, costs more than a year of college.
So. No whole days. And no school for me for another year. Peh.
And finally, there is the looming doom of a Trip to Illinois. See, my dad's retiring beginning of June, so my mom has this fabbo plan of driving the minivan out to nab the boyos and me for, “oh, a week or two, maybe three, hey you can stay as long as you like!” And I DON'T HAVE AN ESCAPE PLAN! There was talk of flying, of driving, of O flying out, of O driving out, but O's employee is going to Germany about that time, and OH MY GOD I THINK I'M GONNA SPEND THE SUMMER IN ILLINOIS UNDER MY PARENTS' ROOF. *breathe breathe*
I love my parents. Let me repeat that, and let me yell because I seem to be doing that a lot all of a sudden, I LOVE my parents.
There are other family members I'm not so keen on. And I'm not so keen on surrendering my adult identity for more than say, the time it takes a photon to traverse my kitchen.
But, with my dad retired perhaps I can keep us out of Rockvaletonford by distracting him with trips to Madison for shiny objects -- “Look, Daddy, look! Rare Beatles CD with a track of Ringo eating a cracker! Oooo...shiny! Let's get it! Hey, is that a Whole Foods Store? Who wants a treat? Good boy!”*
So. You see. The events of Saturday night, with the whole unwilling surrender of parental control, sort of played ping pong with the events to come in which I will be forced into unwilling surrender of parental control. And even though it's kind of like a ping pong game with Forrest Gump playing against all of Communist China in terms of the players' potential menace, there were those echos that sent me, well, sitting down because the edges of the room were turning black again.
I gotta go. My dog's eating Sheep 'n' Peat.
I'll do the 'Some Really Good Days' post later. I've had some.
Oh! And, this time next week, I will be staring at the ocean. Unbelievable. Joy.
*(I can say this because I do respect him, love him terribly and I'm just like him.)
Additional labels: Posts that are synopses that aren't really synopses but really long posts instead, my favorite space pirate, I found my tiara and it says 'Drama'