Plant The Darn Tulips

Time is crawling, not flying as usual. Seven more days! Next Monday at 8 am I will sit or lie in a cold hospital room, talking to doctors and nurses I have never met (and hope to never meet again) because meeting them again would be bad news I suppose. Biopsy!

There is something, but what?

My thyroid got company. Three big nodules, or clusters of little ones. It doesn’t have to be dangerous, but two of them are larger than 2 cm, so they want to make sure and I am grateful. (You don’t sound grateful, Bridget.)

Just make sure faster, please!

You got to know me by now. I am the Let’s-do-it kind of person. Waiting drives me mad, it makes my mind ill. Too many thoughts and endless possibilities. My mind is circling around the same subject. I get some breaks but they never last. Like a thief in the night, my mind seems to be waiting until I feel safe, and then it hits again.

Shut up brain!

“Honey, it’s time for a new washer and dryer,” my husband said and he was right. We still have the same dryer that was given to us used in 2010 when we restarted our life after six months of houselessness (still preferring this word because we were never homeless, it was just not our home where we lived.) We replaced the heating element on the dryer, and it’s working (not like a charm but functioning). Banged up the dryer stands beside a second-hand washer, which we bought in 2015 for $75 from one of my husband’s colleagues. It’s time to buy a new washer and dryer, yet I hesitate. Big investments scare me, perhaps that’s a good thing.

“Let’s wait until Thanksgiving, I bet we save a ton when we order during the black Friday sales,” and so I canceled the order I had just placed the day before.

Maybe I don’t need a new washer and dryer anymore?

That’s what has been on my mind, but I don’t tell anybody.

Oh, I need to get a grip on your mind. Everything will be fine because the time point would be so wrong. (Is there ever a good time to be sick?) My husband is scheduled for preventive surgery on December 16th. It’s a colon surgery to take out a piece of his colon and a polyp that they can’t take out any other way. It’s benign but can turn into cancer. We are so lucky!

I bought more tulip bulbs for spring. Should I plant them? Oh good grief, what a question is that? Waiting, is not my thing, just not my thing.

Plant the darn tulips.

My husband is leaving town Monday morning. No, he is not running away, even though I wouldn’t blame him right now. I am not myself. My smile is not deep enough, the sparkle in my eyes is not bright enough. I am fidgety! What a word. Another word, please! Wiggly, swirmish, antsy. Yep all of it, but only inside. I am a great pretender right now, but my husband knows me. Oh, I am glad he has to work out of town for four days. I have projects in my workroom stacked to the ceiling (not kidding) I can work myself silly (sillier). Also, there is no cooking when he is gone -not real cooking anyway. I will live off smoothies and plan to boil a cauldron of my favorite fall vegetable-chicken soup, just without chicken. Still a vegan here, at least to 95%.

I feel good!

That’s puzzling me. I do feel good. Actually, I feel great. I have a ton of energy right now. I am off sugar, dairy, and gluten and I am loving it. No brain fog. WTH? Where is my brain fog? What happened to it. It’s gone. I want it back, I see too clearly now.

I am not the panicking type. I am the one you want by your side if there is an emergency. I keep a clear head, and I can take charge and lead (but only for as long as the crisis lasts, afterward I fall to pieces.) Why am I panicking now?

Seven more days to the biopsy and then perhaps three more days until there will be a message with test results in my mailbox. So it’s ten more days. That’s nothing. Right?

Why am I writing this on my blog? Because I know you guys won’t tell!

Fasten your seatbells I will try to stay away from the keyboard, but I can’t guarantee it.

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