Times Like These

I see your cat with a broken leg and your little fender bender, and raise you random abdominal pain. Ha Ha ha huhh ugh wait, that's me --one seemingly unlucky lady of late. What makes this infinitely more interesting is, oh by the way, Craig's nearing the end of his very young life and there is literally no more room to accommodate the random and unnecessary. If I had to use text message shorthand, it might read, "WTF!" Throw me a bone, here.

As Jill alluded to, it's true; I've been having random pain in my lower left quadrant of my abdomen, coupled with extreme weakness. The weakness has returned to baseline fatigue, but the pain is still there. I had a doctor's appointment yesterday to investigate the problem. My phone alarm rang early for my morning appointment. Within seconds, Craig answered, picking up his phantom phone and speaking gibberish for several moments to the receiver he held neatly to his left cheek before finally hanging it up.  Perched on our elbows, Jill, Diane and I couldn't help but smile at the image and how wonderfully endearing and earnest he looked lost in his dream. It's almost enough to set the alarm every morning just to watch him answer his 'air' phone.

Doubled over in pain, I wandered into the doctor's office and then wandered out with a script for an ultra sound to look from possible ovarian cysts. The likely diagnosis was nothing unexpected and nothing to worry about. On any other day, the thinking would stop there, but it didn't. I immediately thought of my Mom and how I would have discussed the symptoms, ultra sound test and various "shop talk" with her. This was her domain; she was the person I'd call. "Hey, Mom", I'd say. "Hey, what", she'd inevitably reply. Time again, from random moles to lumps and bumps, she was there as Nurse Mary and as Mom - duel hatted for the task of consoling and deciphering symptoms.  These symptoms aren't ones to raise alarms, but, with our recent history, we have to pursue them nonetheless. Still, I would have described to her in detail the fairly invasive procedure; I would have laughed with her and brought it down to size. She would have said, "It's OK sweetheart". "It's probably this or that but it's better to get checked and be safe than sorry". She would have listened without invalidating me. She would have been there. It is times like these that I realize she isn't there and never will be apart from memory; the feeling couldn't be lonelier. Realizing that loss was the most difficult part of the day--far more difficult than the pain or invasive procedure.

One day later, I've learned that my blood work is normal, as well as the results from my very uncomfortable ultra sound, though I do have a few small cysts on my ovaries. I didn't expect there to be bad news, but it is a quiet relief to hear it. You never know with our luck; wouldn't be too surprised if my ultra sound showed a third ovary shaped in the face of Elvis or the plant from Little Shop of Horrors. No third ovaries, no big problems except for the lingering question of "why the sudden pain?" "We know what's right with you, but we don't know what's wrong" as the doctor put it. She recommended a CT scan just to cover all bases.

At this stage, I chalk it up to mystery pain to befriend my other mystery pains, and find it difficult to justify further testing when those tests would pull me away from my increasingly fragile brother. But, he'd want them taken as would my Mom. If my sisters had even a hangnail, I'd sedate them and drag them to a doctor for a full MRI. Times like these, we're not taking any chances, not with our recent history - even if this does seem a bit absurd. The unfair and ridiculous have been our "new normal" for so long, why question it now? ~E