Cause I'm the Taxman...yeah yeah I'm the tax man

Have you done your taxes yet?

I'm boring and got mine done last month. Got a hefty $2.72 refund coming to me from the state. Woo hooo!

Again, a long time has passed since my last post. I would say that I have been having too much going on in life to worry about, but it is really just plain lethargy. Lots of stuff has actually been going on, but it is all pretty meaningless in the end, so not worth blabbing about here.

Can you imagine how empty blogs would be if everyone just decided to not post things that were meaningless? Imagine the open band-width.

Before I get too much more hypocritical, I'll try to post something of meaning.

I went to the doctor a couple weeks ago to revisit an issue I thought I could just ignore until I was fifty or so. That was in 1995 when I thought I could just go on my merry way and fahgeddaboudit. But then, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer in September of last year and those benign lumps I had being tracked and plotted for almost two years of my life between the ages of 18 and 20 suddenly seemed to have an increased chance of turning into something not benign. So, I went to the clinic and had to attempt to remember everything about my exams from 9 years ago that I had originally planned to forget. I had copies of my medical records with me, but not everything was really recorded in there. My mother came with me to help try filling in my memory gaps, and it sort of worked.

The doctor and most of the staff originally greeted me with an air of "Why the hell are you here?", but when they saw the name of the clinic I used to go to, their tone definitely changed. I was even doubting my own validity as a patient until one of my lumps was refound. I thought that perhaps my other two and a possible third were totally gone and I could be happy and free. I almost got into an argument with my doctor to boot about what I was told was "questionable" tissue 9 years ago and I could still feel was different from the rest of my breast. However, past her pooh-poohing attitude, my new doctor informed me that I should have an ultrasound to create a baseline. Fine. I wanted that so I had something more recent than 1995. She also recommended I take part in an MRI study to check out how well MRIs did for detecting lumps and how they could possibly be used instead of mammograms. Frightening, but still something I should want to do.

So, I returned a few days later for the ultrasound. The technician found the left lump right away when I pointed it out to her. This was the same one the doctor had rediscovered as well. It was examined and was fluid. Fine. good. She then saw that the other breast needed to be scanned as well. She asked if there was any particular point or area. That was the one the doctor didn't find anything in. So, I pointed to the area of "questionable" tissue and the first thing she said when she looked at the screen was "BINGO!" Yup. large area of fibrous and benign looking tissue. I felt vindicated, angry, tense, and yet triumphant.

It wasn't until an hour later that the panic set in. In that hour, it was recommended that I return in six months for another ultrasound, possible core biopsy, and maybe a mammogram. I'm not even 30 for crying out loud. My mother's tumor was tiny beyond tiny and another doctor assured me that it was most likely nothing to worry about. Why, then, recommend a mammogram? Why risk the rads and possible tissue damage? Irritates me.

This afternoon, I found myself a bit upset with my insignificant other not telling me that he has started working toward taking calls for a crisis center hotline. He has spent a good deal of his time in the past few weeks working on it. I am pretty certain that this idea was sparked by his Quest for Tail. But then, it hit me that I haven't mentioned a word of my own doctor's visits and exams to him. So, I had no right to get angry about him not telling me about his project. But, then again, my own thing isn't in quest of trying to impress a member of the opposite sex. I still haven't told him.

I don't think I will.

But why do I give such a sh*t that he didn't tell me about the hotline thing?

*sigh*

Oh well, laundry time. He's coming over in a bit, so it's good I got this out now, huh?