Medical professionals...I trust you.

Okay, remarkably the appointment I made with the wonder office twins was actually on the books and I had my biopsy. My husband and I got in our new fangled automobile and found the location of the clinic!

Once there I had a highly uncomfortable cervical biopsy. I was doing okay and the procedure was over and the doctor asked me to sit up. He told me the customary that I did very well, its a very uncomfortable procedure...blah, blah, blah. I'm still sitting at the edge of the exam table with that stupid paper sheet covering me feeling mildly uncomfortable when he reaches over to a little clear cup with little chunks of bloody tissue and holds it up and says, 'okay, here's the tissues we took...' at that point the room began to spin and I said, 'I think I'm going to pass out' and a look of instant alarm passed over his face and the nurse's. The nurse instantly reclines me back onto the table. The nurse fusses over me and they both finally leave. What I felt like saying is- "look, I don't want to see the little bloody chunks of my cervix!! I don't want to see my insides on the outside of me in a little cup EVER! That stuff creeps me the hell out!"

Besides, you're the doctor, you're the one with all the medical training- I TRUST YOU. You don't need to show me your work. I'm not your math teacher.

I was never into that. I can't stand that stuff. I can't even watch dental procedures on TV. Perhaps I'm wrong and should have inspected those tissue samples, but no, he's the doctor I'm sure he took whatever he needed. Also, I hate medical instruments. The second time I almost passed out was when I was getting dressed in saw all the metal instruments in the sink. YUCK.

Anyway, the good news was that everything looks quite mild and good and I will probably have to have a somewhat larger chunk of my cervix removed. (I think I will make it pretty clear I don't need to see that either!) The biopsy results come in next week, but the doctor seemed very optimistic.

In happier news J and I celebrated our sixth wedding anniversary. We went to a fun fondue restaurant called "The Melting Pot" - it was pretty cool. It was nice to just go out and have a good time over dinner.

My fabulous daughter has truly crossed over in to teenager-dom. Her friends are front and center, they are either here or she is with them or she is instant messaging them on My Space or she is texting them on the phone. I used to call My Space "the my space" as in "Allie are you on the my space?"

Allie gave me the true look of contempt that only a true teenager can and said "MOM- it just 'my space' not 'the my space' GOD!"

At that moment I knew- I knew I had passed into the years of being an embarassment, a person that she will roll her eyes at, a person who seems very out of touch, strange, OLD.

She still gives me a very meager portion of the old affection and she's a lot more relaxed with me when we're home alone, but still....

Friday the 13th lives up to its name

Sheesh! I don't believe in this stuff, I never care about walking under a ladder, a black cat crossing my path, throwing salt over my shoulder when its spills, or any of it, but today makes me believe in the legend of Friday the 13th.

First of all I'm doing some volunteer work. Someone who is sort of "supervising" me chooses not to read my e-mail updates, and therefore calls me this morning loaded with snarky comments and says "I don't know what you did, but I guess thanks for whatever it was..." gee, feel the frickin' gratitude! Thanks for making me feel good about about my volunteer experience. Simply because you don't choose look at your e-mail doesn't mean I didn't put in some work. I mentally worked back by reminding myself of the people who will be helped and the other cool, nice people I'm volunteering with.

Secondly, about a month ago I was informed I have some "pre-cancerous cells" a-growing in the body. I really don't know much about medicine but "pre-cancerous" sounds NOT GOOD. My doctor scheduled a biopsy for later this month. Apparently my doctor likes to employ the mentally challenged who have difficulty with those new-fangled things called "calendars" and "clocks" he has two of these people and unbelievably they are both equally incompetent. (what are the odds!) So, I scheduled the appointment. A few weeks later I get a call, From someone who I will charitably call person "A" : "Hi, we scheduled you during the doctor's surgery time on Tuesday, so can you come in on Friday?"

I call back and speak to the other person who we will call Person "B"- "Person A called and wants to re-schedule me for Friday"

B: "What? Friday won't work. He's all booked"

Me: "Okay what day is available?"

B: "You will need to speak to person A"

Me: "Can you see when he's available?"

B: "I'm not sure. I will have A call you"

Days go by, no call. I call back and get B. B says she can look at the calendar, but couldn't possibly give me any information except that Friday won't work. I ask to speak to A and informed that A will call me back- which doesn't happen. For days.

Finally, today A calls me. A says "Can you come in on Tuesday?"

Me "Oh, I thought Tuesday was bad, that's when my original appointment was"

A : "Yeah, he's not available that day, what about Friday?"

Me "Your colleague B said that Friday was not available either"

A: "Yeah, he's not available Friday"

Me "Perhaps he has some sort of calendar you could look at and find out whe HE'S AVAILABLE SO I CAN MAKE AN APPOINTMENT FOR MY BIOPSY"

A: "Ok, ok, hold on....what about the end of July?"

Me: "No, I've already waited a month, I have pre-cancerous cells I'm not waiting another month"

A: "Who told you that you had pre-cancerous cells?"

Me: (momentarily stunned into silence. Where in the hell else besides the doctor would I get this information? The tooth fairy? Oprah?) "Well, THE DOCTOR told me I have pre-cancerous cells. That's WHY I'M TRYING TO SCHEDULE A BIOPSY!" (As A copes with this new bit of information, I begin to wonder, do people try to schedule biopsies just for fun? Do people with perfectly normal cells, say, "what the hell, let's biopsy this anyway!" I'm like, quite attached to my body, I don't like even few tiny chunks taken for purely cellular analysis unless its absolutely necessary, but perhaps I'm a freak that way)

A: (sighs heavily) "Well, I guess I can schedule you Wednesday. He's double booked that day. But we can get you in. Its not at Good Sam. Its at Saint Vincents, can you get there?"

Me: "Yes. I can get there"

A: "You will have to drive, its not downtown"

Me: "Yes. fine. I OWN A CAR."

A: "Uh, so you're okay with getting out there. Its not at his office. Its at St. Vincents. Its not downtown"

Me: "Yes, I've been driving for many decades, I know the city of Portland well, I will find it"

A: "Well, um, okay, I think it will work then."

Me: "Thanks"

That. was. frickin. UNBELIEVABLE.

Anyway, I think I'm going to attempt to speak to the Doctor in person to tell him how difficult it was to get this thing scheduled. I actually really like this doctor. He's funny, and when I was mildly freaking out at my last appointment he walked me through the whole process. He explained and didn't condescend. He seems to like people and genuinely care. Perhaps thats why he continues to employ A and B knowing they could not obtain gainful employment elsewhere.

And then, TIM RUSSERT DIES! I watch Tim every Sunday. My husband calls Tim my "man crush" - its true I am (was!) faithful to Tim every Sunday. How is this even possible? How can we have this election without Tim's jowly wisdom?!

I know plenty of people who disagree with my admiration for Tim, but to me, I think he was pretty good at extracting info. out of people and cutting short their bullshit. And I had an affinity for Tim. I'm an avid reader, I went to college, a little grad school, but I really harbored contempt for people who were a little too clever by half, a little too pretentious around their intellectual ability, people who would never condescend to hang out around the non-college educated or to give their opinions, the opinions of "joe sixpack" any weight. There are people like that and I always felt that Tim saw them for the jackasses they were. I appreciated that about him. I think in his own way he called them out.

So, I'm bummed. Of course, Russert has to die. Not that fat, blowhard Rush Limbaugh, apparently you can take enough hillbilly heroin to kill an elephant, base a career on lies, mean-spirited trash and your heart keeps a ticking! Where's the justice in that? Or that wrechted, stick insect transvestite Ann Coulter, for some reason that pathetic hag continues to live and be involved in "journalism"! She seems to survive on hatefulness and orange tic-tacs (its her serving of "fruit") and yet she lives! And poor, jolly, down-home Tim dies! Oh, its really awful. He seemed like a nice person too. A wife, a son, a really nice book about his dad!

Its always that way isn't it? John F. Kennedy is shot, Nixon lives to a ripe old age. Martin Luther King Jr. dies but Jerry Falwell's fat face graces our TV screens for decades.

It really makes me sad.

I think we should stop having Friday the 13th.