A Mommy Blog About Raising Men, Not Boys.

Saturday, January 02, 2016

48 Hours of Controlled Chaos

This morning I am joined by a five year old wearing Pinkie Pie pajamas. They're the last present my mom ever sent her, and it made me melancholy to see her in them. My mind got all wander-y, as if that were a word, and thinking about this new year and the last year and all the things.

I have been thinking a LOT about how quickly things shift in a life, and how many things can be packed into a short amount of time. I'd like some level ground for a while, but don't know if anyone gets that. It's hard to imagine how things can swing so far one way to another, and how odd and singular a life can be even when surrounded by others.

My New Year's Eve started off at the hospital.
It looked like this for hours.
That's my view from the table. I had to go get my six month mammogram "diagnosis" after them having found something "probably benign" visit after visit. The thing is, they keep finding different things and the previous thing disappears. What that means is that it's cysts, however it also means I end up at the hospital women's imaging center every six month undergoing what I feel like is a dehumanizing hell. They aren't unkind, but there is something about it that makes me like a stone of terror.

This time they seemed "concerned" in their cheery chatty way. Usually I go in, get the mammogram. Go back, get another one on one side, then they go "oh hey let's do an ultrasound" and that takes like 30 minutes. The first thing that was different was they KEPT bringing me back for different mammogram looks on both sides. She'd make a concerned then "oh I'm cheery" face that they must teach them and then squish me and apologize for the fact that it hurt.
It's normally about an hour to an hour and a half process. This time it was over three hours. About an hour into the ultrasound I started to shake and I couldn't stop, It just hit me, I was still in 2015 - the cursed year. My mind began to race, 'This is is, you're gonna have cancer because this year is so fucking stupid this is just fucking perfect' and other thoughts and I just felt like well, there you have it and now I'm going to die.
Eventually via ultrasound they got the look they wanted at the tissue areas circled. They're very dense apparently and don't show what's inside well, so they have to basically shove the ultrasound wand through my breastbone to get a look in there. They found one side was just dense tissue with no hidden gems, and the other was just a small cyst and nothing else. Come back in six months, you're not going to die - yet.

And then, the wheel turned and it was New Year's Eve again instead of death diagnosis day.

It was determined by the girl that we were having a reindeer themed New Year's Eve celebration. It's a very strange fact, but somehow in the course of one day I went from being pretty sure I was about to be referred to an oncologist for bad news to wearing reindeer antlers and celebrating New Year's Eve with South African wine and smores.
Not together you heathens.

I had even forgotten my morning, my terror, my tears of relief in the dressing room when it was all over, by the time I got home. I might not have remembered had I not taken pictures of the adventure and found them in my phone.
But my evening was filled with the opposite of my morning. There was love, and kisses, and smores and roasting marshmallows. We watched Willie Wonka and Dick Clark's Rockin' Eve and our 2015 ended with a quiet set of hugs and kisses goodnight.

Yesterday was a pain in the ass for hours on end. Everyone got up too late. My deep desire to be left alone in peace wasn't in the cards. I was DENIED. I was bitter about it. The twins were cranky pants about everything and anything. Eventually my husband called me to the bedroom and had me lay down. He wrapped me up with blankets, threw a leg over me and demanded I close my eyes.

I slept and something oddly magical happened. Without the audience of me to offend with their nonstop fighting, it stopped. The kids wandered into various parts of the house and played. I would wake up every so often to be admonished to lay still and close my eyes. like a child I obeyed, slipping back into my blanketed safe zone and letting everything fade.

By the time I got back up, things had stabilized.

I worked out, made lunch and played a matching game with the girl.
Early evening my husband declared we were starting the New Year right - WE WERE GOING OUT!
The girl put her money into her new wallet and her new wallet into her purse and declared she was READY to go. We piled into the van and went to that suburban paradise Olive Garden and dammit we had a pretty good meal.

Everyone was happy. Miles surprised us by reaching for the salad tongs and putting salad on his plate, we think they must have gone there with his social skills group, so I helped him put some salad on his plate and he happily picked out the olives and tomatoes (his favorites). I renewed my love affair with moscato wine, and they forgot my meal so I ended up getting a children's portion at a much better price and it's really all I needed to eat anyway.

In 48 hours I made smores, thought I was going to be told I was gonna die, watched Willie Wonka, had a mandatory nap, played a game,worked out,had an amazing and fun dinner.

Today I'm up for anything. What do you have universe? I'm ready for you.