Peace Out Anastasia and Drizella
Posted on September 18 2018
Don’t worry about it. That’s the advice I got from my neurosurgeon today. “I know it’s a little zen-like, but just don’t worry about the tumors left behind. They’re benign. The best advice I can give you is to not even think about it,” he said. I’m sorry... I’ve got these foreign objects in my body that can potentially end me one day and I’m not supposed to worry about it? Are you out of your genius doctor mind? Ok, I’ll play along, but tell me how. How am I supposed to not worry? I’m the mother of four young girls and I need to be here for a really long time or at least until everyone escapes the risk of teenage pregnancy. Talk about a lesson in living in the moment.
Living in the moment. There’s more and more out there all the time about the value of living in the moment and I’ve got that dialed in with some aspects of life, but now I’m supposed to expand that perspective into my health? My neurosurgeon also said, “don’t stick your head in the sand.” So I guess it’s up to me to try to find some sort of balance. What does that balance look like though?
This is part of me. This is part of who I am and I’m not naive enough to believe these tumors won’t be like the me in high school in relentless pursuit of the super hot gay guy that everyone knew was gay, but me. I wouldn’t give up and refused to see it wasn’t gonna happen. I should really apologize for the countless anonymous love letters I left in his locker. Oh come on, don’t even try to tell me you’ve never been there... not even once? The point is, they’re not giving up and neither am I, but I guess we can call a temporary cease fire? I finally did work up the nerve to reveal my identity to the super hot gay guy and he let me know in a very polite way that there wasn’t a chance in hell for us. Much like there isn’t a chance in hell for these tumors and me. So for now, in a very polite way, dear tumors, take a long walk off a short pier. I don’t have time for you. Peace out Anastasia and Drizella.