OK Then

Herself speaks.

I am in a different city, attending a continuing education seminar. It's... an experience. I clearly don't get out much. 

I'm not necessarily sorry that I don't get out much. While the speakers have useful and interesting things to say, there is also a great amount of networking, which involves small talk and other social interactions that I find somewhat exhausting, as well as a certain amount of "let me sell myself and my skills" activity which is equally taxing.

And then, there are people in general.

I am staying at a swanky hotel where the conference is being held, and it is attached to a very posh mall. (Pictures will follow in the next few days.)  I took a stroll through the posh mall. At one point, a very carefully coiffed and eager young man tried to sell me a wrinkle-reducing cream that only cost "four ninety-nine", he said. I blinked at him and said, "four ninety-nine... DOLLARS?" Yes - $499. Good heavens, who buys these things?? Well, probably the same kind of person who would shop at the many designer goods stores. You know the kind: where one artfully-arranged product is the sole focus of the display. The number of items in the front window is inversely proportional to the cost of the items. 

I took an escalator to the higher floor. The airspace was quite open, so I looked around at all the stores and mall decorations on the way up. As I neared the top of the escalator, a man of uncertain age had just begun to descend on the opposite escalator. He looked over at me, and semi-shouted, in order to make sure I could hear him across the airspace between the escalators:

"NICE SHIRT."

What? 

I reflexively shouted back, THANK YOU. In retrospect, that must have confused him. The escalators continued, and I was deposited on the top floor as he disappeared to the floor below.

OK Then.

Ugh.

-----

It has been a very, very long time since a stranger in public has commented on my appearance; I have become quite accustomed to being an invisible middle-aged woman. And yet, this complete stranger felt compelled to raise his voice to let me know he was looking at me. If I had been wearing some kind of fantastic, earth-shattering garment, that might have been understandable. Yet I was not. I was wearing an ordinary black shirt with a floral pattern; it was not particularly low cut or tight or otherwise noteworthy. A middle-aged woman's shirt, as it were.

I'm an ample girl, though. There's no hiding that. So essentially, this man was shouting at me: I have noticed your breasts and find them aesthetically pleasing. 

For fuck's sake. 

What is it, that allows some people to feel entitled to comment on another person's anatomy? Why do they feel as though it is at all appropriate or welcome to do so? 

Just no.

I am reminded of being 15 years old and wearing my favorite mauve sweatshirt to a baseball game, when that drunken stranger shouted at me, NICE SWEATSHIRT, SWEETHEART. Apparently, things are still changed, thirty-six years later. And just when I thought I was safe from such comments -- oh, look, I am not.

Yuck.

I might need to come up with a better response to such comments. Just in case. 

I will avoid other people's attentions,

just as tiny dog does when faced with a camera.

Merpeople

Something for everyone!

Spider

Spider, my friend
Tell us your story (spin us a tale)
Where do you live?
How did you get there?
Who lives nearby?
Are you safe? 
And warm enough?
What have you eaten? 
Do you enjoy the hunt?
Are you tired?
Do you sleep?
And what do you dream of?

Copyright 2019, Offspring the Third. All rights reserved.

Used with gratitude.

Elements

I am fond of those silly Facebook quizzes: What spice are you? "Turmeric." (OK then!) What decade are you? The 1930s. (I'm the Great Depression!?)  What 80s movie character are you? ("Sarah Conner." That's good! Or "Jessica Rabbit." Must be the boobs.) Which Christmas character are you? "Elf." (I think we all knew that one before I even took the quiz.)

Sometimes in the quizzes, there is a question relating to the elements: Which do you identify most with - earth, water, fire, air? 

I never know how to answer that question. None of the above? I don't know enough about the traditional "character" of each element to pick one. So for amusement, I searched the internet for quizzes for Which element are you? I took several quizzes. I got: "water", "fire", "water", "air" and "earth".  Well, that doesn't help at all. 

I might read some more, just for entertainment purposes. In the meanwhile, here are two songs that have been in my Pandora rotation recently, that are both a bit water-themed. I hope you enjoy. 

First, James Bay, Hold Back The River.

And then, Vance Joy, Fire and the Flood.

Current Mood

Marvelous Photos: Ants

This photograph brings to mind the magnificent industriousness of ants -- how they carry their leaves with determination and devotion, across vast distances, for the good of the colony. Bravo, ants. You are fascinating.

Picture copyright 2019, Mediocria Firma. All rights reserved. 

Used with gratitude.

Marvelous Photos: Cactus

I love this photograph. Look at the delicate fuzz upon this desert plant. I long to touch it.

So lovely.

Picture copyright 2019, Mediocria Firma. All rights reserved. 

Used with gratitude.

Amen

Herself speaks.

The phone rang just after 8 this morning. It was my doctor's office.

"Your biopsy results came back benign."

Hallelujah, and amen.

It has been a roller coaster of mental contemplation for the past week and a half, and I am glad that the road I feared is not mine to travel right now. To know that I am spared from having to wear a brave face in front of those whom I love, while confronting Things Terrible, is a lovely thing indeed.

I still have many things to do, and my Important People still need love and care. And with grace, I will still have plenty of time. 

Marvelous Photos: Flower

See how beautiful.

Picture copyright 2019, Mediocria Firma. All rights reserved. 

Used with gratitude.

Marvelous Photos Intermission: Yes

Herself speaks.

I had the breast lump biopsy yesterday.  All things considered, it was not so bad.

The paperwork was a bit more than I anticipated: it had been a mere few pages for the ultrasound, but was well over a dozen pages this time, and included questions such as "do you consent to a blood transfusion if necessary?" It was at that point that I realized that they treat a biopsy as an outpatient surgical procedure. Which, all things considered, it is.

There were five people in total involved: the doctor's assistant, the ultrasound technician, the trainee technician, the doctor (a radiologist), and the mammography technician. They were all exceptionally kind.

The assistant carefully explained the whole procedure -- which was helpful, as the only information I had to go on was the brochure I'd picked up in the waiting room -- and took a detailed medical history. She explained she'd be monitoring my blood pressure/oxygen levels during the procedure and assisting the radiologist as necessary. She was also in charge of verifying the procedure, marking the correct breast with the word "Yes" in purple marker, bandaging and post-op instructions.

The ultrasound technician carefully instructed the trainee technician about the nuts and bolts of the procedure: how to create the sterile field, how to arrange the surgical tools, how to maintain the sterile field with the ultrasound machinery. They tried to make me as comfortable as possible, even though I had the arm on my right side up over/behind my head. They adjusted the pillow on the stretcher where I lay. They offered a warm blanket in case I was chilly.

The doctor was a tiny older gentleman who was extraordinarily courteous and kindly. He made sure to introduce himself and to look me in the face when doing so; he patted my hand gently; and explained what he was doing, step by step, so nothing would be a surprise. And he began, explaining the numbing shot, the incision, the tools he was using. He encouraged me to watch the ultrasound machine screen to see what was happening. It was a bit odd to watch the core biopsy needle on the grainy ultrasound, but it was helpful to do so -- when he had trouble accessing a part of the lump he wanted to biopsy, I could understand why it was taking so long and could see exactly what the issue was.

Five core samples and about an hour in total later, it was done. The doctor assured me with his parting words that it would likely be benign.

I was taken to mammography, where the mammography technician handled me gently and let me look at the mammogram to see the titanium marker that had been placed where the biopsy had been conducted. She returned me to the assistant, who bandaged the site with gauze and a tiny ice pack and gave me instructions on care of the site.

All of the women wished me the best of luck with my results.
-----

I feel a little emotionally flattened now.  I might want more hugs than usual, but am unable to return them. It's a weird place to be. The mercy is, there is not much pain, except some soreness in my shoulder from the placement of my arm.

We shall see how it went.

Marvelous Photos: Owl

This is what I imagine Pigwidgeon would look like.

Pictures copyright 2019, Mediocria Firma. All rights reserved. 

Used with gratitude.

Marvelous Photos: Alligator

Such an ancient and powerful creature.

Pictures copyright 2019, Mediocria Firma. All rights reserved. 

Used with gratitude.

Marvelous Photos: Warthogs

So comfortable.

Picture copyright 2019, Mediocria Firma. All rights reserved. 

Used with gratitude.

Marvelous Photos: Peacock and Peahen

The peacock may be more colorful, but the peahen is subtly beautiful nevertheless.

Pictures copyright 2019, Mediocria Firma. All rights reserved. 

Used with gratitude.

Marvelous Photos: Wolf

Run, wolf, run.

Picture copyright 2019, Mediocria Firma. All rights reserved. 

Used with gratitude

Marvelous Photos: Pensive Orangutan

For your Monday: the pensive orangutan.

Picture copyright 2019, Mediocria Firma. All rights reserved. 

Used with gratitude.

Marvelous Photos

Herself speaks.

I am in possession of some absolutely marvelous photographs from my recent trip to outdoor-venues-of-interest, in points north. Since my thoughts are currently wandering toward places unpleasant, I shall instead share some of the pictures. It may be difficult to pick just a few. 

They are balm to the soul. What an eye, the photographer has. 

We shall begin with the lioness. I am a Leo, and while I do not subscribe to the idea that horoscope signs are in any way correlated with personality or happenings in the universe, I nevertheless would like to channel the confidence and self-reliance of the lioness.

Picture copyright 2019, Mediocria Firma. All rights reserved. 

Used with gratitude.

Borders

Herself speaks.

You may recall that Thursday morning, I had an ultrasound to follow up on the breast lumps we have been watching. It was fine, no more uncomfortable than usual. No big deal.

The phone rang just a bit after 8 AM Friday morning. That's slightly unusual, although my sister does occasionally call early since she is in a different time zone. I looked at the caller ID. It was my doctor's office. I knew immediately that something was afoot.

The caller let me know that the ultrasound results were in, and that there is a lump that has grown a bit, and it has irregular borders. So the doctor was sending orders for a biopsy.

Two words stuck in my head: Irregular borders. Every other lump I have had -- including those I had removed as a young woman -- has been neatly spherical. Not so, this particular lump. In medical jargon, it's "suspicious."

I tried for much of Friday to schedule the biopsy, but the paperwork hadn't landed on the proper desk yet. It should be there by Monday, and I'll schedule as soon as possible. It'll take at least a week for those results to come back. They'll want me to get those results from the doctor in person.
-----

I'm not sure what to think. On the one hand, I'd like to be positive: it'll be fine, it's probably just a weird nothing-to-worry-about.  On the other hand, I'd like to be prepared for the possibility that it is Something, so that if it's worst case scenario, I'll be mentally ready (or as ready as one can be).

While I was out shopping this afternoon, I bought a small binder and a folder for papers. In the event it is Something, I'll want to take notes, keep records, save printouts and such. If it's Nothing, I can repurpose the binder/folder for other things.

I went to my scheduled hair appointment today (keeping the grays away), and as I  sat there waiting for the dye to soak in, I thought about how I might rather lose my hair than lose a breast. If I knew hair loss was inevitable, I'd have my kind and sweet hairdresser just shave it down in advance, so I wouldn't be shocked when it fell out. I thought that I would ask Offspring the First, who is so adept with makeup, to teach me how to draw on eyebrows so I wouldn't look too strange.

I haven't gotten as far as contemplating surgical possibilities. I'll think about those later. 

I want to hope that these musings are unnecessary.  Perhaps, though, the contemplation is a useful exercise, because it gives me a feeling of Control over things that, right now, I cannot in fact control at all.

I think I will feel better once the biopsy is scheduled, because then at least I will know we are progressing along this new, unwelcome road. I'll travel it if I must.

We shall see what happens.

Whatever comes to pass, I will take comfort in knowing that no matter how ugly the road may become, there will still be flowers along the way.

Picture copyright 2019, Mediocria Firma. All rights reserved. 

Used with gratitude.

Evergreen

Lovely.

That Time Again

Herself speaks.
Discussion of anatomy. You have been warned!

It is time for the six-month follow-up from last summer's ultrasound. As you'll recall, we're watching several allegedly-benign breast lumps to see whether they continue to be stable, or whether they are doing something new or interesting or alarming.

First, the financial aspects -- what is wrong with the healthcare system, in a nutshell:

For a bilateral breast ultrasound, I was informed that the cost to me WITH my insurance (since I have not met this year's deductible), would be $504. I was astounded by this amount, and asked how much it would be without insurance. I fully expected to be told that without insurance, it would be more than that.

How mistaken I was. Without insurance, it would cost $130 per breast. So essentially, if I didn't use my insurance, it would be HALF the amount.

I had the choice to pay an exorbitant amount and have it count toward my deductible, or pay half the amount off-insurance and out of pocket. Crapshoot: do I pay twice as much to make sure I am getting credit toward the deductible in case something goes all to hell this year medically and I have a lot of medical expenses, or do I pay half as much and not get deductible credit? 

WHY IS THIS EVEN A CHOICE, AMERICA?

-----

After making that impossible choice and exercising my credit card, I had the ultrasound today. Being a somewhat... ample girl, it took a while. Plenty of time to think, staring at the wall or the ceiling while a patient and thorough young woman applied enough ultrasound gel to coat a small country and ran the wand over all the terrain. Position, press, click. Pause. Position, press, click. Pause. Press harder. Position, press, click. Pause. And on and on. 

I did not want to interrupt her process by making small talk, and so I thought All The Thoughts instead. These are the things that went through my head:

What are the risk factors for breast cancer again?

I had my first baby young, and nursed all the Offspring for a cumulative 5 years. Surely that was protective somehow?

What if I do have breast cancer? One out of nine women.

How many women are there in the office? How many of us will develop breast cancer?

Would I choose mastectomy? Lumpectomy and radiation? I suppose it depends on what is going on.

Cannot even bear to think about chemo. Though if I lost my hair, I would totally wear a head scarf for every occasion. 

Would I have reconstructive surgery? 

Maybe I would just do the whole badass tattoo thing. 

Don't they tattoo new nipples for breast cancer survivors too? 

Could I have nipple-saving surgery? Didn't Angelina Jolie do that? 

If I had reconstruction, I would go for a size smaller. A G cup is *really* difficult to dress properly.

I don't think at this point that anyone could imagine me without cleavage. It's been part of my physique for oh, 36 years or so now.

There is absolutely nothing remotely sexy or sexual about this procedure. It is uncomfortable and boring.

They really should put a picture or something on the ceiling, so we have something to look at.

Maybe a "Where's Waldo?" photo. 

The feeling of pressure/discomfort reminds me of the lumpectomies I had in my early 20s. No sedative, arms outstretched and tied to a board so I wouldn't move. 

God, that was terrible.

I hope that they've improved how they handle these things since then.

Oh, hooray, all done. 

I will be sticky from the gel all day.

Results will be released in two or three business days.

We shall see.

Save me. 

Well Now

I just found this Christina Aguilera video: Not Myself Tonight.

WELL NOW.

I might quibble that there were a few too many scenery and costume/makeup/hairdo changes in the video for my liking. I would have kept the hair sleek and simple and gotten rid of the excessive eyelash extensions, and had fewer scenarios presented. Still, I profess a certain fondness for her latex outfits and glittery leotards. (This is when my teenage fascination with the Solid Gold dancers resurfaces.)

I hope you enjoy.

So Beautifully Round

Serene

If only I could find the serenity of the capybara.

Picture copyright 2019, Mediocria Firma. All rights reserved. 

Used with gratitude.

Buggy

Bitey

Herself speaks.

I took Tiny Dog in to the vet's office this week for a check of her heart condition. While we were there, she had her nails clipped and she received a booster of her anti-heartworm vaccination. And she was quite bitey. They resorted to a wee little muzzle to keep her contained. Bless her tiny little furry angry-ness.

The good news: her labwork was good, which means that her kidneys are still functioning properly (if her heart condition affects her circulation, her kidneys will be affected), and her liver enzymes are within range (if she retains fluid because of her heart condition, it will put pressure on her liver and cause problems). Her weight is stable at five pounds even, so she is sufficiently active and is not retaining fluid (which oftentimes is one of the first signs of heart failure).

The less good news: her heart murmur is a bit more pronounced; and her blood pressure is a bit high. (Do you know how they take a dog's blood pressure? They put the cuff on the dog's tail. I heard one of the vet technicians call out to the vet while they had Tiny Dog in the back room, "The cuff is too big for her tail." I can only imagine how they managed to get it done.)  We go back in a month for a re-check of her blood pressure. 

If it is still high, it will be time to add a third medication to her regimen. She currently takes an ACE inhibitor plus a second drug that strengthens the heart's contractions and dilates blood vessels. We would add a calcium channel blocker next. All of these medications are designed to delay the inevitable heart failure.

The vet is exactly the sort of person you would want to explain bad news about an animal you love. He has a soft-spoken demeanor and ever so kindly explains what is happening, with just enough scientific detail to give the full picture. He has a measured, unhurried voice, and answers the hard questions gently. Bless him. What a kind soul.

The truth of the matter is: we do not know how long Tiny Dog has. 

It could be years. Or she could take a sudden turn for the worse, as Elderly Three-toothed Dog did, and reach the end unexpectedly quickly. 

I am still grieving for Elderly Three-toothed Dog. His death was very hard, for reasons I do not fully understand. And it is hard right now to contemplate that I will -- whether sooner or later -- have to send Tiny Dog over the bridge as well. 

Tiny Dog. My heart aches at the thought of losing you. 

I need more time. Stay well, and stay feisty, my Tiny Dog. I will do all I can for you.