My oncologist says a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, he's right no doubt, but I'm a knowledge girl, I've got to know everything. I can't process something until I understand it, but as I get older I realize not everything can be understood. I was so much more nervous about this Oncology check-in than the others, or maybe I wasn't and I just don't remember. I walked up to the hospital today trying my best to keep my bones from disintegrating. When I checked in I learned that you don't get a plastic bracelet with every visit and I felt mildly victorious. I used to be obsessed with the waste of this, especially the hard plastic clips used to fasten them. There were little dishes of these by each receptionist's desk, I'd imagine how many cases they'd go through in a day or a month, and I'd annoy the receptionist with these thoughts. I'd talk about how many of those must go to the landfill each day when we were all cognizant and knew who we were. If I'm going in for surgery, I'm ok with being labelled all over the place, but for a quick blood draw or doctor's appointment, it seemed wasteful.
In the waiting room I realized there's something I'll never, ever understand and that's Kathie Lee and Hoda. Who is this Hoda person? I don't know the appeal, they don't even seem real, they seem like an amalgam of mainstream thought and style entered into a computer program and then generated in 3d. I can kinda get the Kelly and Michael thing, but not these two, they are icky on a stick.
My appointment was anticlimactic because they forgot to run the most important test, the one that's been keeping me up at night, the infamous tumor marker. I gave another vial and I got a voicemail a few hours later that I went from a 36 to a 40 which is statistically insignificant, so I got my cancer card punched for the next six months. I always think I'll rejoice and celebrate, but instead I'm just exhausted and relieved and maybe I'll sleep better tonight. The reason my doctor says that knowledge can be a dangerous thing is because I know where I am on the bell curve of risk. I know that for the next twelve months I'm climbing to the summit of risk and then I start descending from the peak. And me, well, I'm clumsy, I'll get up there and trip and take an eye out on the pointy part of the peak.
I need more nature. Little dude and I went to a friends in a more rural location the other night and we walked in the dark and were surrounded by fireflies. I haven't seen fireflies in years and J never has. It was magical, the woods seemed all lit up for xmas and my son kept putting his arm around me and waxing poetic. There was a full moon too and warm summer air, it was special, we needed it. It's hard to get that boy away from the computer, there's kind of no way to do it if we're at home, I have to get him off-site which is hard when so many normal summer options are out. He doesn't swim, he has sensory issues and loathes sand between his toes, neither of us like crowds much. He likes to fish, but I don't know the first thing about where and how to go about that. I took him to NH a couple of weeks ago and we did art galleries and cafés which we both love, but once I get the store open, no more weekends off for me for a good long time. Working all the time as it is getting ready and there seems and endless list of things to do. I could manage my time better, I suppose I need not be writing this and I spend an inordinate amount of time sitting on my porch listening to the trees rustle in the wind. Interspersed with that, I get an artist bio written or something ordered for the store and in the back of my mind I'm thinking about margarita's and whether I'll go make one or not.