the surgeon confirmed it today: she took out a ton of little fatty tissue thingies. no cancer. yay!

::singing:: “when i sit around the house, i really sit around the house. who's fat?????”

be afraid. be very afraid.

we just returned from a week in duck, nc where we rented a house with two other families. we rented the same house last year with the same two other families, and we had such a swell time that we decided to do it again this year. sadly, we won't get to do it ever again, probably, as one of the families is moving to Texas. i highly doubt they will want to caravan-it up to NC just for the beach. very nice folks. i'll miss them very, very much.

anywho, i love the outer banks. it reminds me a bit of the jersey shore – minus the boardwalk – when i was really, really small and MTV didn't have a presence on my beach (AKA Sleaze-side Heights, NJ.) it is relatively clean, and actually extremely quiet except for the assholes two doors down who decided to play with fireworks every evening just as i put my three-year-old to bed. duck is on the northern side of the island, and there is literally one road you can take to get there. when you hit traffic on 12, as you inevitably will, you are best off just to blast your A/C, crank up a good mix tape, and just grin and deal.

grin and deal were my watchwords of the week. i have incredibly attractive-looking stitches in me, and so bodysurfing and hang-gliding were pretty much off-limits. i did get the great news that apparently, they found only fatty tissue in my boob – no tumors, no cancer, just good old fashioned blubber. like i didn't know THAT. the woman from the doctor's office seemed horrified by my fat, but i was thrilled. i mean, hey, i can always lose weight, but can i lose cancer? so i was delirious. but i had to continue to treat myself fairly gingerly, as ripping stitches would have ended my vacation. i really didn't let myself ride waves much until the last day there. but i grinned like an idiot child when i was in the ocean. i am always happiest near the water. i probably was a dolphin, or maybe at least pond scum in another life. (note to self: call up shirley maclaine and ask her if she remembers.) having grown up on the jersey shore, i have never adjusted to the fact that it currently takes me 5+ hours to get to the ocean. i never will, i suppose.

but i swam. i ate. i drank. i put on 3 pounds. i saw BC swim by herself (ok, she had arm floaties on, but still!!) for the first time in my life. i trounced BS and my friend's BS in miniature golf. (well, maybe trounced is a bit strong a word.) i became the walking fast-food restaurant of choice for about a million mosquitos. i didn't sleep much. i even read two books. no one would play trivial pursuit with me (AGAIN!) why do people think that if you are on a game show that you can beat the pants off of them in trivial pursuit? i have only played this version once in my life, and i am quite sure that BS actually won. boo hoo, will someone EVER play trivial pursuit with me? i am really not that smart, you know 😉 .

but you know something? i am glad to be home. now, if i could just move closer to the ocean…

::sigh::

and today's non sequitor: would somebody please send me the talking heads “true stories” soundtrack? purty please?

ok, just took bandage off as instructed. felt a little “pop” like a string broke. started bleeding a little. called the doctor. doctor says to stuff my bra with gauze. now where was she when i was in intermediate school? 😉

signing off so that i do very little for a while. here's some peace, love, and donny osmond, er, bob marley for you instead. and for those of you who know, “come to jamaica and feel alright.”

lord, i love that commercial.

One Love
-Bob Marley

One Love, One Heart
Let's get together and feel all right
Hear the children crying (One Love)
Hear the children crying (One Heart)
Sayin' give thanks and praise to the Lord and I will feel all right
Sayin' let's get together and feel all right

Let them all pass all their dirty remarks (One Love)
There is one question I'd really like to ask (One Heart)
Is there a place for the hopeless sinner
Who has hurt all mankind just to save his own?
Believe me

One Love, One Heart
Let's get together and feel all right
As it was in the beginning (One Love)
So shall it be in the end (One Heart)
Give thanks and praise to the Lord and I will feel all right
One more thing

Let's get together to fight this Holy Armageddon (One Love)
So when the Man comes there will be no no doom (One Song)
Have pity on those whose chances grow thinner
There ain't no hiding place from the Father of Creation

Sayin' One Love, One Heart
Let's get together and feel all right
I'm pleading to mankind (One Love)
Oh Lord (One Heart)

Give thanks and praise to the Lord and I will feel all right
Let's get together and feel all right

i arrived at Sibley Hospital at 10:45 yesterday since they told me to arrive at 11 for 1:00 surgery. why? i couldn't tell you. it is beyond freezing in there — i even hear the receptionist yelling at someone on the phone to fix the A/C. it is so cold that even my polar bear-like BS is cold, and you know when HE is cold, we must be in the fucking Arctic. anyway, after waiting until 12:40, they finally took me. v. annoyed about this, but there isn't much you can do in biopsyland. i did get a giggle, however, at the fact that this place where i was getting my lumps removed is the Cosmetic Surgery surgery. so it says on the myriad pieces of paper i had to sign. reading this, i of course had to ask the lady at reception whether i could get a few other things done while i am here. she laughed at me. oh well.

anyway, i get my gown on, ties-in-the-back-please, and they let BS come and hang out with me while the Physician's Assistant and a variety of nurses come back to talk to me, attach electrodes to me, and generally fail at finding a vein for my IV. (everyone does.) even the anesthesiologist comes by, and after a small effort to look for my veins, which apparently, i have left home, she tells me she will look for them in the OR. i can hardly wait. i inform them that my career as an IV Drug user would be a total bust, and i inform them i will think of another career possibility besides that of heroin addict.

ok, does ANYONE have a sense of humor in the hospital?

anyway, the funniest moment for me had to be when BS and i were waiting, and i had that pulse thing clipped to my pointer finger. Boop, Boop, Boop – that was my pulse we heard, but it sounded like Pong to us. so i first pretended that my finger was a Pong paddle, and i moved it up and down as if i were playing the tennis-like pasttime. then, BS says “Breakout!” and for those of you old enough to remember that video game, i pointed my finger horizontally and pretended to be the paddle in that game. ok,ok, so you do silly things when you are scared. but it was better than completely dissolving into tears, which i very nearly did a few times.

anyway, it was time to say goodbye to BS, and then i of course started to cry, wimp that i am. but i stopped it quickly enough, too, as these nurses were going to have to help me when the time came and i didn't want to annoy them unduly in advance. we get into the OR, and my surgeon is right there, singing along to what i think is lucinda williams. not bad, but not what i want to hear. so jokingly, i said, “hey, do you take requests in the OR?” the surgeon and nurses cracked up, and my surgeon said, “hey, if we have it, you can hear it!” and i said, well, actually, you have to do the heavy lifting, so i completely understand if you want to pick the music.” she said, “oh, no, like i said, i like what we have here. what do you like?”

i smiled. “when i had my daughter, i had to get special permission to bring in my boombox so i could have music playing. i thought it would make me not need an epidural.” (everyone laughed; some of the nurses were on loan from the OB dept.) “my daughter was born to bob marley's “Legend” album.”

a nurse went rifling for only about 30 seconds and then next thing i hear is “is this love.” my heart soared. i looked at my surgeon and she smiled at me. then, i had to ask, “aren't you lucky i didn't ask for the sex pistols?” she cracked up. finally, someone has a sense of humor. at this point, the anesthesiologist comes around and starts poking and prodding. i told her to let me know before she actually puts the needle in, as she found a teeny-tiny vein. (i guess that's why they get the big bucks.) my surgeon held my hand and let me squeeze hers for all it was worth while the needle went in. and within seconds, it was ok. they asked me to sit up, and since my arms were strapped in, i sat up and unleashed them and announced, “geez, i feel like frankenstein breaking off the table.”

that's the last thing i remember 😉

determined to wake up quickly so that we could get to pick up BC at daycare in time, i awoke at 2:00. considering my surgery started at 1:30ish, i wasn't out for long and i think i surprised the recovery nurse. i knew everything was going to be alright, though, as the recovery nurse has the same last name as my dear friend karin, who is also a kick-ass nurse. i believe in signs, and that to me was one of the best and strongest signs i think i could get. nothing keeps me from food, and since i had not eaten since, well, since about 8pm the night before, i was fucking famished. they gave me a slushy cranberry juice and a nearly-frozen bagel with cream cheese. to me, it was food of the gods. the nurse had brought BS to come and see me – i think they were a little surprised that i was up already. but even subconsciously nothing, and i do mean nothing, could keep me from worrying about my bunnygirl. i wanted to make sure that things stayed as close to the regularly scheduled program for her. make it safe and easy and nice. that's what moms (and dads) do.

the surgeon came around and told me that she mostly found fibrous tissue and fatty tissue, and to her, everything looked ok. i have to wait a few days before we get the pathology report, but considering how many blessed tumors this chick pulls out every week, i think she probably knows whats what.

i am jubilant.

having darvocet to take probably helps in the jubilation department.

whoopee!

thanks to all my friends who have been so amazingly wonderful to me. thanks to my family who have all been absolutely supportive and loving. thanks to BS who has always been there, no matter what. and thanks to a little girl who doesn't really quite know what to make of what is going on today, but who is doing her best to understand that mommy is going to the doctor today, and that the doctor is going to take out those lumpy bumps, and that mommy will be all better and just a bit sleepy and ouchy when she gets back.

stay tuned.

yesterday at a little nature center program, we saw three little boys. their first names are Aiken, Baker, and Davis. they sound like a little law firm to me.

what are people thinking when they name their kids?

i just heard a wonderful acoustic version of “veronica” by elvis costello.
every time i hear it, i think of my gram.

Veronica

Is it all in that pretty little head of yours?
What goes on in that place in the dark?
Well I used to know a girl and I would have
sworn that her name was Veronica
Well she used to have a carefree mind of her
own and a delicate look in her eye
These days I'm afraid she's not even sure if her name is Veronica

Chorus:

Do you suppose, that waiting hands on eyes,
Veronica has gone to hide?
And all the time she laughs at those who shout her name and steal her clothes
Veronica
Veronica

Did the days drag by? Did the favours wane?
Did he roam down the town all the while?
Will you wake from your dream, with a wolf at
the door, reaching out for Veronica
Well it was all of sixty-five years ago
When the world was the street where she lived
And a young man sailed on a ship in the sea
With a picture of Veronica

On the “Empress of India”
And as she closed her eyes upon the world and
picked upon the bones of last week's news
She spoke his name outloud again

Chorus

Veronica sits in her favourite chair and she sits
very quiet and still
And they call her a name that they never get
right and if they don't then nobody else will
But she used to have a carefree mind of her
own, with devilish look in her eye
Saying “You can call me anything you like, but
my name is Veronica”

Chorus

-Elvis Costello

ok. my three-year-old just did an interpretive dance to adam sandler's “lunchlady land.”

i'm beginning to think my life could easily be turned into a sitcom.

too funny. thanks to scally for this one.

just coming up for air today…

BC has strep. two days ago, she woke up and would not eat a thing. she even passed by her favorites, yogurt and blueberries (is this kid ridiculously healthy or WHAT?), so i knew something was not right. by lunchtime, she felt really hot to me. we went out and bought a thermometer since ours decided to poop out on us. i took her temp, and she was 101F. i decided to give her a little kiddie motrin to help me knock down the temp until we visited the nurse practitioner (whom BC LOATHES).

BIG MISTAKE.

after downing, oh, i dunno, maybe half of her motrin, BC flipped out and decided to reenact a scene from the exorcist. she screamed, she squirmed, she cried her little eyes out (actually, a good sign since she had tears and thus was not dehydrated.) and then, the deluge. what little she had eaten that day, plus some unexpected stomach contents, all came out. i held my hands out to catch the barf — why did i bother?– and keep it off her bed, but in vain. soon, everything had barfy remnants – me, her bed, her blankie, her quilt. so i cleaned her up, sat her on the rocking chair, and proceeded to clean everything else (except myself) up. it was one of those glamourous parenting moments that somehow never shows up in those print ads of glowing, happy children.

anyway, sure as shit, she has strep. we gave her a dose of amoxicillin that night, and she reenacted a more furious version of the day's scary moments. it was horrifying since i could not tell at this point whether it was merely meds hitting an empty stomach (which is now what i think it all was) or an actual medical allergy. i got put on hold at my pediatrician's office, so i finally broke down and called the blue cross nurse line. pretty useless as well. fortunately, after about 15 minutes, BS got her calmed down. i took her on a looooong ride in the car to help her calm down, and then we stopped at baskin robbins for an ice cream. (which, i might add, should also be touted as a wonder drug.) she said she didn't want to go to sleep because she didn't want to throw up in her bed again. why, i asked her? i will just clean it up if you do.

she said, “mommy, i don't want you to get mad at me.”

i felt 1 inch tall. i didn't get mad at her when i had to clean her up earlier, but perhaps my business-like manner in getting everything cleaned up made her think i was pissed off. “honey,” i said, “you can't help getting sick. and as your mommy, i am glad to help you when you need help, and i will clean up you and your bed and anything else if i need to. and i won't be mad. promise.”

fortunately, it never came to that. the next morning, she woke up all smiley. she said, “i feel GOOD, mama!” so tell me, who switched my kid?