Tuesday, August 09, 2011

10 belts

That's what I'm starting my newest Goodwill bag with this evening. Oh, I am still working on losing weight and have faith that I will succeed. But even if I lost 75 lbs., I wouldn't need upwards of 15 belts! So I shall bid these adieu. I'll toss in that purse mirror to keep them company, too.

August Happiness Challenge -- Day 9

Leo is coming home! This Chicago Tribune article helped Sgt. Tim Johannsen's wife raise the $800 required to bring Leonidas the Dog home from Afghanistan ... and then some! Last time I checked, they were closer to $8,000! The money not used to transport Leo will be donated to The Puppy Rescue Mission to help keep more soldiers and their pets together.

The Afghanistan war has gone on too long and has caused too much suffering. Learning of little Leo right after hearing about the Navy Seals who died in that helicopter crash raised my spirits some. I'm proud and grateful that our troops can still find some humanity and grace in their hearts. And I am so proud and happy I was able to play a small part in rescuing the dog who seeks shelter and comfort with the Sergeant as mortars fall.

He never called back

My gynecologist. His nurse did call me this morning -- both at home and at work -- to tell me he wants to see me right away. Really? Well, I want to see him, too! That's why I have left three messages since over the last week and a half. Yes, I know he was on vacation. Yes, I know today was his first day back. But I wanted to make sure I'm a priority.

So I have an appointment to see him tomorrow at 9:30. Hurray! But for what? A CA-125 blood test? A consultation and discussion of next steps? A referral for an MRI to keep that ultrasound company? How much time should I take off work on Wednesday? Should I fast? I asked the nurse to have him call me back.

She said she doubted he'd be able to, but she'd give him the message. He never called me back. I hope she didn't give him the message.

I have been waiting to talk to him since July 29, when my GP explained the ultrasound results, introduced my stapler-sized cyst to me and referred me to my gynecologist. That's 11 days that this thing has been hanging over my head. Eleven days!

Over this time I have talked myself into -- and out of -- a cancer diagnosis. Today the sweat pants I ordered arrived, as a hysterectomy is likely. I saw Sir Paul twice and returned to work in that time. It's felt like a lifetime.

And now I have to wait one more fucking night.

I like my gynecologist. I like how conservative he is in his treatment and how much time he spends with me, one-on-one, when I'm in his office. But I don't like the way his office runs when he's out of town, and I don't like how his nurses behave like Cerberus as they "protect" him from patients like me.

I want this to be over. I have never been one for sitting patiently by the phone, waiting for a man to call!