closing thoughts

i love the olympics.

love them.

always have, always will.

summer. winter. doesn’t matter.

for 16 days, i live in an olympic bubble.

for 16 days, i watch every single sport they include. all of them.

for 16 days, i will learn details and factoids and rules and names and numbers and game-play strategies. i will pay attention to split times and bell laps and burned stones. i will rank and score and predict and cheer. and cry. a lot. the olympics always always make me cry... for winners, for losers, for triumphs of the human spirit and, quite often, for nothing more than the random parent or fan or spectator who’s tearing up in the stands because they’re overcome with joy or despair.

and i love it.

when we were younger, YB and i would actually tape the olympics. opening ceremonies, closing ceremonies, our favourite events, profiles of our favourite athletes. we actually, and with great care, drew the olympic rings – in the correct colours, placed correctly – on the labels for each and every videocassette (and there were LOTS) we used. i’ve been to olympic fan events and met olympians and even collected pins for a while.

loving the olympics has been part of my life for almost my entire life.

and when each olympics inevitably draws to a close, i get all sentimental and teary. the closing ceremonies are a benchmark. they always make me think of olympics gone by, and where i was, and what my life was like, and how much the world has changed since the last time i watched a closing ceremony celebration.

but nothing drives that passage-of-time point home more than the portion of the ceremony where the head of the IOC makes his speech, offering his thoughts on the olympics that are ending and extending his invitation to “the youth of the world to gather four years from now” for the next games.

each and every time i hear that exact phrase, pavlovian tears well up in my eyes.

because, in that moment, i not only think about the past, but i think about where i’ll be, and what my life might be like, and how much the world might change by the time the next games roll around. it’s strange and exciting and terrifying all at the same time.

and, like the olympics themselves, i find that moment incredibly moving.

ode to lefty the cyst

ode to lefty the cyst

once upon a time i had some troubles deep inside
all kinds of wacky symptoms in my body did reside
some aching and some cramping and some other freaky things
that when combined together fear and worry they did bring

i headed to the doctor to explain this crazy mess
she ordered days of testing and eventually confessed,
“you’ve got yourself a problem that we very nearly missed:
your ovary’s been saddled with a squishy, plum-sized cyst.”

at first i felt my heartbeat start to pound and sweat did bead
a cyst attached to organs was a thing i did not need
a bothersome intruder to a life already stressed
more undesired vexing from this most unwelcome guest

despite the doc’s assurance that this wasn’t a huge deal
that cysts like this were common and that many simply heal
just knowing it was in there made my mind expect the worst
that maybe it would grow or, god forbid, that it could burst

but just before i waded elbow-deep in swamps of fret
a new idea was born to thwart the progress of this threat
i’d launch a staunch offensive to make sure it shrank and died
i’d squash it and i’d starve it and i’d stop it in its stride

yet as i gathered armour to begin this noble war
resolved to be the victor and be cyst-less ever more
a friend who’d been in battle stopped me gently and just said,
“perhaps a sense of love is what will help you here instead.”

you see, these cysts don’t grow if things within you are just fine
in bodies kept in balance with a clear and healthy mind
if everything is working and in harmony (on-key)
your system keeps things humming and your innards stay cyst-free

eat well and get your rest and keep your heart and head in check
make sure your chi is flowing and that wellness stays on deck
but when you let things slide and you ignore what matters most
your chemistry can change and you become the perfect host

“hello!” a cyst will say, “are you aware that you’re askew?
i’m here as a red flag and there’s some fixing you should do.
you need to pay attention but you’ve let things run amok,
that’s why i’m your new tenant even though this sort of sucks.”

for me, this news was something that i knew was very true
nutrition had been lacking and my mood was trapped in “blue”
my nights were mostly restless and my days consumed by doubt
no wonder cystic action bubbled forth and then grew out

if negative emotion was what helped the cyst to thrive
then fueling it with more would only help it stay alive
if what i really wanted was to see it disappear
then what i really needed was to throw myself in gear

so with my friend in mind i changed my tune and altered course
while knowing sudden healing was a thing i could not force
but maybe if i tried to see this cyst with clearer eyes
its visit might be shortened and we’d soon say our goodbyes

to start, i named it “lefty” for the side on which it lives
and thanked it for the warning and reminders that it gives
i try to treat it kindly and with tenderness and care
(i figure i don’t want it getting angry while in there)

and, yes, i’m eating better and i’m trying to get sleep
and working on solutions to the feelings that i keep
there’s vitamins a’plenty, extra A and C and E
addressing from all sides the many issues that are me

and lefty, though it sometimes causes pain and makes me cringe
with every stitch and throb i try to thank it for the twinge
i place my hand just so and in a quiet voice i say,
“i understand your presence, but i hope you go away.”

* * * *

© yepimawriter 2010

magical minutiae

earlier, i saw a ladybug on the elevator in my building.

i was on my way out and, after getting on, i looked up at the display of floor numbers just above the doors.

i noticed a little dark dot sitting just below the ceiling.

it was a ladybug.

on an elevator.

in february.

in toronto.

i wondered where it came from.

and where it was going.

weatherapy

eariler today, i was sitting on the couch, looking ahead at the rest of the year to come and slowly feeling more and more overwhelmed. so many questions, so many uncertainties, plenty of gaping holes, and no clue about answers or resolutions or metaphorical drywall. the more i tried to create a picture for myself, the more panic and fear were inching in. i was feeling down, and alone, and sad, and i could tell that i was on the precipice of a gloom spiral, peering down into the swirling abyss.

i also knew i wanted to snap myself out of it.

a couple of books i’d reserved had come in for me at the local library, so i decided to walk over to pick them up. but as i began to get ready, i saw that what had been a pretty meek snowfall outside had turned into a bit of a snowstorm. i suited up accordingly, put on my growlers and headed out, figuring that i’d take the scenic route to the library so as to enjoy a little of the walk-perfect weather.

see, i love walking in snowstorms.

it’s an acquired taste, to be sure, and it takes a certain type of person to not only enjoy, but delight in a snowstorm walk. the conditions aren’t exactly ideal; it’s often windy and cold, and the snowfall is usually heavy. visibility is sometimes low, the drifts sometimes high and, more often than not, you will end your walk blissfully pooped but encased in a thin crust of snow which, when thawed, leaves you soaking wet.

but, oh, the sheer joy i get out of that kind of walk.

it’s wonderful. invigorating. soul-nourishing. the neighbourhood streets and walking paths are often completely empty save for me, and the blanket of snow acts like a giant muffler, putting the world on mute. for blocks and blocks, sometimes for kilometers, it’s just me. alone. walking in the snow. no one else around. no sound except for my own footsteps, my breathing, the gentle whoosh of my sleeves against my jacket and my thoughts.

so, today, my short hop to the library turned into a long walk sprinkled with a healing lesson.

about three minutes in, when i felt my lungs expanding and my head clearing and the excitement of an eight-year-old me -- eager to frolick in the snow for hours -- emerging, i decided to skip the library altogether and to just savour the walk for as long as i needed. i changed my course, wandered along vacant side streets and gave my growlers their first real workout. after a bit, i was walking directly into the wind and, as a result, i was looking almost straight down. in a bid to avoid being pelted in the face with the falling snow, my head was tilted toward my boots and my eyes were looking, at most, three feet ahead.

“good grief, this is no way to walk,” i thought. “i’m staring at the ground instead of what’s around me.”

but, as much as it would have been nice to look up and look around and check out the scenery, i was doing what i needed to do to protect myself. as soon as i lifted my head, it was like teensy shards of ice were hitting my face and i could barely keep my eyes open for all the snow flying directly into them. so, for my own sake, i just kept looking at my feet and the steps i was taking and the little clumps of snow i was happily kicking along with me. i walked this way for a long time, a thin layer of snow slowly forming along the front of my jeans and snow barnacles gathering in all the creases of my jacket. a stray bunch of hair had also fallen out of my hood, and i noticed some pretty sweet haircicles growing. eventually, though, i’d gone as far in one direction as i wanted to go, and it was time to turn around and head back.

and that’s when my view changed.

once the wind was at my back, and i was walking with the falling snow instead of against it, it was easy to look up. i could behold more of the winter wonderland around me, inhale its beauty and keep walking. i stopped occasionally, just to turn and let the snow hit my face for a few seconds. when i did, i could feel it quickly gathering on my eyelashes and, as lame as it may sound, each tiny, chilly flake hitting my skin felt like a little burst of healing from mother nature. i could feel my tensions easing, and i even imagined that positive energy coursing through my veins to defeat lefty. it felt lovely, so i kept doing it every few blocks. the snow was still falling hard, the winds were still blowing, the sidewalks were just as empty as they’d been an hour before, but now i could look at it all and appreciate it without squinting.

it was then, on my glorious trek home, that the walk’s significance began to sink in.

aside from an excellent way to rejuvenate my mind and lift my own spirits (which it did), my snowstorm walk provided the unexpected bonus of delivering me a life metaphor. because, as i went, i realized that sometimes in life (as on a snowstorm walk) it’s great to hold your head high, look around, take in your surroundings and really see everything that’s there... but that it’s equally important to know when it’s in your best interest to look down for a bit.

to understand when it’s more helpful to perhaps look no farther than two steps ahead in order to protect yourself from being overcome.

and to realize that simply putting one foot in front of the other can be just as valuable as looking at the big picture of what lies before you... so you can continue walking.

free flimsy friday foughts*

(*best read with a thick east-london accent for optimum results.)

1. earlier today, i had my very first episode of actual vertigo. not just some dizziness, but textbook vertigo. i was sitting at the computer, where i'd been for at least half an hour, and was checking email when all of a sudden it felt like the floor tilted, the room was spinning and up became down. i tried to focus my eyes on something stationary in a (failed) bid to regain my equilibrium, but knew enough to immediately go lie down on my bed and do the epley maneuvre. trixie's had vertigo before and learned it, then taught it to me in case i might ever need it. everything was fine within a couple of minutes, but still. it was kind of scary-freaky because i have no idea what triggered it.

2. lefty has been restless. every now and again it feels like someone's just shot me in the stomach with a paintball.

3. this evening, i picked up kyle and carried him into my parents' living room to sit. when i put him down on my lap, i noticed my left hand, which had been supporting his hind quarters, was... wet. it was poo. note to self: do not handle the cat immediately after he's visited the litter box.

piñata apples: some thoughts

when YB and i were in the states this weekend, we went grocery shopping. and, whilst browsing the produce section at tops, i spotted a display of “piñata apples.” as something of an apple connoisseur, who loves honeycrisps and fujis most, i was intrigued.

i’d never heard of a piñata apple before. the sign accompanying the display proclaimed they were juicy, crisp and sweet – all good things, as far as i’m concerned – and excellent for baking, stewing and out-of-hand eating. i made note of the name and picked up three just before we headed back to toronto. (i didn’t want to get just one, in case they were delicious, and didn’t want to get a whole bag, in case they proved terrible.)

so.

just now, i sliced up my inaugural piñata and have the following to report:

* it was extremely sweet
* it wasn’t very juicy
* it was fairly crisp, but not the crispiest i’ve ever had
* it had a dense, meaty texture
* it was tasty, but it has not dethroned the honeycrisp or fuji

three was the right call.

per the growers’ website, these apples aren’t widely produced yet and, as such, are still relatively hard to find in stores. i’m not even sure they’re available in canada. but folks must love them because they have their own facebook fan page. who knew?

epilogue

back in november, i wrote about learning that my dentist had a brain tumour.

on thursday last week, i found out she was in the hospital and had been given only a few days to live.

sadly, she died on friday.

it’s not something, but it’s not nothing

“good news,” began dr. textbook. “it’s not anything serious.”

still, not exactly the news i wanted.

in short, and i apologize in advance if this is TMI (avert your eyes if you have issues with lady parts and such): i have a plum-sized cyst on my left ovary. ovarian cysts are fairly common, and mine may go away all on its own. or it may not.

i’m relieved because the results could have been much worse. but it’s still worrisome because, you know, something’s there.

thankfully, though, aside from the cyst – which dr. textbook classified as “medium to large” as far as ovarian cysts go – everything else is fine. and this does explain the lower-left abdominal cramping and back pain (and a few other symptoms) i’ve been having.

i’ll have to have another ultrasound in two months to determine whether it’s grown, shrunk, stayed the same or vanished.

i’m really, really hoping for "vanished." and i am really REALLY not looking forward to undergoing that ultrasound again. my stomach knots just thinking about it.

in the meantime, i plan on becoming the most inhospitable host in the world to this unwelcome visitor. i’ve been googling my ass off this afternoon, and have discovered there are a number of things i can do (mostly involving diet and herbal supplements) to help create a highly unfriendly environment. "shrink and DIE!" is my new mantra aimed squarely at the cyst.

that said, i plan on naming it, just so it has an identity that i can subsequently focus upon and destroy. i feel it’s a boy, and i’m opening the floor to suggestions...

nerves

tomorrow morning i have to go back to dr. textbook to get my ultrasound results.

and i’m really nervous.

this is the one time where i really want her to say, “well, the test showed nothing at all.” followed immediately by “everything is clear and good.”

the logical, rational part of my brain says, “quit screaming, you’re fine. the ultrasound will be clear, and everything you’ve been experiencing can be chalked up to the physical manifestations of stress, and you're going to feel so foolish for worrying about it at all.” it’s the part of my brain that’s read the countless web pages and articles i’ve googled day after day since last wednesday in a bid to reassure myself that my symptoms don’t match those of anything serious. it’s the part of my brain that paid attention when a number of my symptoms magically disappeared while i was away this weekend. it’s the part of my brain that’s sensible.

but the emotional, anxious part of my brain throws gasoline on the what-if flames and comes up with all kinds of unpleasant scenarios and diagnoses. it’s the part of my brain that read those same web pages and articles and tried to find matches. “aha! see? you’ve got that... oh, and that!” it whispered. it’s the part of my brain that’s given me nightmares. it’s the part of my brain that points out my deficiencies and then reminds me of all the reasons my fears might be well-founded. it’s the part of my brain that thrives on fear and worry.

and, as ever, it’s also the part of my brain that’s much louder, much more insistent and much more prone to grand flights of frantic fictionalizing.

so, tonight i’m trying not to listen.

i’m trying to distract myself.

i’m trying to tell myself that i’m okay, and that everything will go really well tomorrow.

and i’m trying to believe it.

(that said, if you wouldn’t mind thinking some good, all-clear thoughts for me, that’d be much appreciated, too.)

buffalo tales

* YB and i got a late start on saturday morning because we’d stayed up late on friday watching the opening ceremonies of the olympics. so we didn’t pull out of her driveway until 7am. that’s right. that’s “late” for us. we feared the border going into the U.S. would be busy, but there wasn’t anyone there when we drove up just after 8:30am. we pulled into an empty lane, told the customs officer of our shopping plans and were on our way in about two minutes. by 9am, we were pulling into a target parking lot.

* a random sampling of our meals: auntie anne’s pretzels and lemonade (breakfast on day one, lunch on day two); pancakes at IHOP; ted’s hot dogs with a gigantic basket of sweet-onion rings; pinto-bean tacos, with chips and salsa at moe’s; hostess sno-balls and orange cupcakes; chili and rice from the wegman’s market café. no, we didn’t have the healthiest food ever created, but it sure was goooood.

* speaking of good, i have discovered my new favourite beverage: mint-flavoured milk from upstate farms dairy. it’s a limited edition product, perhaps for st. patrick’s day?, and as soon as i saw it i knew i wanted to try it. then, as soon as i tried it, i knew i wanted MORE. so delicious! it tastes like melted mint ice cream.

* when we went to moe’s for lunch on the 14th, my total came to $5.09. as i stood in front of the cashier and pulled out my teeny change purse, i realized i had – just moments before – finally cleared it out of all my pennies, nickels and dimes and it was blissfully empty. “i JUST got rid of all my change!” i said to the cashier. “don’t worry about it,” he replied. “i got it.” and he knocked the 9¢ off! i said, “seriously?” and he said, “no problem. it’s valentine’s day!” it was such a small gesture, but it just made my heart so happy!

* friendly clerks were actually the rule and not the exception on this trip, and it was great. at almost every checkout we used, the cashiers were friendly and chatty and courteous and just nice. this was especially true on valentine's day, when it seemed like the staff of every store were invested in spreading some love. there was one older employee at sears who was just wandering around with a big smile, straightening displays or tidying or what have you... but also wishing everyone she came across a "happy valentine's day!" and making some kind of casual, kind, light-hearted remark or complimentary comment. to everyone, just because. a far cry from the retail experiences i’ve had in recent months. so refreshing. (note: earlier today, i even had a lovely conversation with the skeptical girl who was ringing in the aforementioned mint milk. “okay,” she began. “how DOES this taste?”, and then we discussed it.)

* trixie and i always feel a little disappointed when we see another ontario license plate in the parking lot of someplace we think is off-the-beaten-cross-border-shopping-track. because this weekend was a long weekend here and in the U.S., there were PLENTY of canadian plates around.

* in other parking-lot news: we watched a very entertaining exchange between a bickering elderly couple. apparently, as they were getting out of their car, the wife made some kind of snarky remark about how her husband had missed a better parking spot. to which he, in his thick manchester accent, said, “i’m DRIVING. i can’t be lookin’ here, there and everywhere!” YB and i decided to adopt that phrase, with that accent, throughout the weekend.

* a random sampling of my purchases: kick-ass keen winter hiking boots, which were less than half the price in buffalo that they are in toronto and which i literally put on the second we left the store saturday evening (and kept on for the remainder of the weekend); pink longjohns; one bottle each of cherry dr. pepper and mountain dew code red; starbucks ice cream; three piñata apples (a new kind of apple i’ve never seen or heard of before!); mmmmmmint mmmmmmilk; what turned out to be a very disappointing box of archer farms sun-dried tomato and herb crackers (dry and bland bland bland); two pairs of funky socks for $1 each (regularly $6!); two sweaters; two boxes of healthy cereal (i.e., nothing neon-coloured or supplemented with marshmallows); lots of candy.

* trix and i are both pooped – she from all the driving, and me from two nights of restless, uncomfortable sleep – but it was a great weekend away. it gave me a chance to open up the windows in my head, blow out a ton of cobwebs and rinse out a ton of slime. we just wandered and shopped and ate junk food and goofed off and watched TV while eating target popcorn. i SO needed that. AND, in addition to our dirt-cheap hotel rate, we also got a free night’s stay for use anytime before may! so, you know, it was good all-around.

a valentine's wish revisited

here's the thing about wishes: they're amazing little things and, despite what you might have heard, you get as many as you'd like in life.

not just three.

dozens.

hundreds.

thousands.

millions.

so, even though the one i wrote about last year on this day hasn't yet come true, i will wish it again.

because it's valentine's day.

and i believe in wishing.

puny pre-weekend preamble

trix and i will be off to america at the ass-crack of dawn tomorrow.

the olympics have officially started, and i am delighted.

and, to tie the two thoughts together, the most profound thing i heard about life in a very long time came during the opening ceremonies, spoken by poet shane koyczan (who will no doubt be a superstar by tomorrow morning):

"don't let your luggage define your travels."

petite pile o’ points

* by last night, my abdomen felt like it had received a sound pummeling (thanks to ludmila’s “gentle” touch). i took some ibuprofen and went to bed, but it was still sore today and is still achy right now. i want to believe the residual pain is just a result of the procedure, but the what ifs have been on quite the tear since yesterday.

* further to that, i met with my nurse friend earlier, and she’s still on the case in terms of helping me find health-care professionals who not only acknowledge, but embrace, the “care” portion of their job classification. i’m so hugely grateful for her help and support, both medically and personally. it makes me feel like i’m not in this alone, especially since i feel like dr. textbook – who treats me as though she’s just met me even though i’ve been seeing her for five years (i’m pretty sure she wouldn’t know my name if it wasn’t printed on my chart) – has totally dropped the ball, and is not only clueless but not overly invested in my well-being one way or the other.

* i received word that my dentist is dying. she’s in the hospital, where she’s been for three weeks, and has only been given a few more days to live. as i mentioned when i first wrote about her, she was wonderful and, though this news is very sad, i’ve known since november that it was bound to arrive sooner or later, so it's not unexpected.

* today, to take my mind off things, i gave my apartment a master cleanse. wall to wall, top to bottom. so very satisfying. it’s sparkling now and, as we know, i do love that.

* YB and i will be heading to the states this weekend and i'm SO looking forward to it. i really really need to get away, even if only for a couple of days, so we’re making the most of the decent weather and the cheap hotel prices and the fact that she has monday off. cheesecake factory, target, TJ maxx, ted’s hot dogs... here we come!

ultrasound-off

this morning, i got up at 6am to get ready for my transabdominal ultrasound. its other name is a pelvic ultrasound and, just like any medical procedure that includes the word “pelvic,” it isn’t much fun.

this is the kind of ultrasound where you have to drink copious amounts of water an hour beforehand, and then try not to pee (or cry or scream) while a technician pushes a transducer against your stomach and your increasingly distended bladder for about 10 minutes. it doesn’t sound overly awful, i know, but i did not enjoy it. at all. and the environment in which i had it done didn’t help matters much.

my appointment was at a relatively swanky downtown imaging centre where they do ultrasounds and mammograms and the like. i decided to go down very early this morning, and to drink all my required water once already in the clinic’s vicinity rather than trying to ride the subway with a full bladder.

so, i took my water, a magazine and sat in an empty food court at 7am. by the time i headed to the imaging office at 7:45am, i was ready to pee. badly. when i arrived, the receptionist was checking in someone else, so i waited. squirming. i knew it would still be about 10 minutes before the test would even start, and then at least another 10 minutes for the procedure, and i honestly had no idea how i would hold it that long.

the receptionist noticed my obvious discomfort and suggested i “go release some of it. but not all, try to keep some in there!”

easier said than done. but i knew my body well enough to know my bladder would be full again pronto, so i returned to the office very relieved.

she checked me in, brought me to their dressing rooms, gave me a spa-like wrap-gown and instructed me to wait in the secondary (interior) waiting room when i was changed. done and done. i could feel my bladder refilling, but i knew it wasn’t yet full, and i hoped the lab tech would be a little understanding and just wait an extra five minutes for it to reach the required volume.

fat chance.

why? because i had ludmila (not her actual name, but it might as well have been), the disgruntled russian lab tech, performing the ultrasound.

actually, i should back up a bit. i was welcomed into the exam room by oksana, a twentysomething (also russian) girl, who informed me that she was “in training” and that her supervisor, ludmila, would be observing and guiding her, as needed. figuring two heads are better than one, i said, “no problem” and lay down on the table.

i informed the duo of my recent... erm... “voiding,” and that they may have to wait a minute or two, and oksana said, “that’s okay. we’ll try anyway.”

“try” became the operative word, as oksana “tried” to do the ultrasound. but, based on the number of times a frustrated ludmila corrected her, i’m going to assume she wasn’t at the top of her game. for me, the process was becoming increasingly uncomfortable – my bladder was full and she was pressing on it nice and hard – and, for oksana, it seemed to be getting more and more confusing.

now, this kind of ultrasound is one that the patient wants over with as soon as possible, but the fumbling and correcting was stretching it out. i was lying there, staring at the ceiling, wincing and willing it to be finished. instead, ludmila – who’d clearly grown tired of her student’s ineptitude – took over.

and she was none too pleased about it.

when i asked how much longer she thought it might be, because i was actually starting to writhe on the table, she snapped, “i don’t know.” when i followed it up with, “what happens if i get to a point where i can’t hold it any longer?”, she scowled at me and said, “then we have to end the exam!”

as i tried to breathe through what was now pain, she scolded me, “this is all in your head! your bladder is not full. it can hold 600 CCs.”

but i was barely paying attention because all i could do was think “do not pee, do not pee, do not pee, do not pee” over and over again in my head. i actually started trembling involuntarily despite trying to focus on not freaking out.

finally, it was over and i leapt off the table. the instant ludmila was no longer jamming the transducer into my stomach, i felt better, and oksana quickly directed me to the washroom... but not before ludmila offered one last “helpful” suggestion.

“maybe next time you should prepare yourself better, mentally,” she advised in a very snarky tone.

wow.

nothing like being nervous, undergoing a highly unpleasant test and then being blamed for its unpleasantness. as though the whole thing would have been a breeze otherwise.

i felt like saying, “thank you so much for your awesome bedside manner. maybe next time you should go f**k yourself.”

but i didn’t. instead, i simply explained that i was new at this, and didn’t know how much longer the test would take. had she said at the outset, “this will take ___ minutes,” i would have been able to gauge how soon i’d find sweet, sweet relief.

as it was, the entire procedure probably took about 17 very-long minutes, but it felt like an hour. if you don’t believe me when i say it was painful, next time you have to pee... don’t. hold it. and then keep holding it for another hour, preferably while pushing your abdomen into a railing of some sort. after a while, not peeing really hurts.

needless to say, i was very happy when it was all over. i have never been so relieved to see a toilet in all my life.

and, as i collected my things and got dressed, i thought about the imaging centre’s website, and its claims that they take “pride” in creating a friendly, welcoming atmosphere. it actually says:

We make what frequently is an unpleasant necessity of life ... pleasant!

walking out of their offices, i felt like sending them an email with that quote pasted into it and then, underneath, just writing “no.”

no answers, just more questions

unfortunately, my test results were not helpful.

they were the medical equivalent of a shoulder shrug.

and i was wrong – what i thought was going on is not going on at all, and my doctor really has no idea what might be causing my assorted symptoms. which is not surprising, given her tiresome textbook-like approach to medicine.

this is not reassuring. i almost started to cry out of frustration right in her office, because i had so hoped for answers and, instead, have been sent back to square one, diagnostically.

the only thing these tests revealed was very low iron levels, which would account for the dizzy spells and fatigue but doesn’t have anything to do with much of anything else. (her textbook recommendation: try to eat more red meat or iron-rich foods, and start taking iron supplements twice a day. you know, nothing i couldn’t have looked up myself... in a textbook.)

so, i can’t get off the roller coaster yet.

and i’m being sent for an ultrasound at 8am tomorrow.

let the what-iffing continue...

what if... ?

i am excellent at what-iffing.

i have been what-iffing since i was a young child, and have refined my skills to art-like expertise.

my what ifs grow quickly and multiply infinitely, regardless of their origin or composition. sometimes, they grow from a hopeful place; other times, they creep out in moments of darkness. i can happily drift away on clouds of daydreamy what ifs, or plummet headlong into an anxiety spiral as i worry myself into a what-if panic.

they can set me free to imagine, and they can shackle me in fear. they can tickle my heart with palpitations of excitement and wonder, and they can wrap it tightly in the icy chains of upset and dread.

my what ifs are always around, quietly circling my brain. but sometimes they’re more active, sometimes they’re louder, sometimes it’s harder to get them to settle down.

tomorrow i return to dr. textbook for my test results, and my what ifs have been on the rampage for the past few days. what if it’s X? what if Y is what’s going on? could it really be Z? umpteen hypotheticals accompanied by endless what ifs. i’m pretty sure i know what’s been causing all the freaky symptoms, and that the solution is a relatively simple one, but those pesky what ifs keep whispering in my ears. because what if i'm wrong?

so, tonight, in honour of my what ifs, i present shel silverstein’s clever take on what is obviously a universal phenomenon...

Whatif
by
Shel Silverstein

Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I'm dumb in school?
Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there's poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don't grow talle?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won't bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don't grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems well, and then
the nighttime Whatifs strike again!

* * * *

the names of dogs

when i was growing up, i wanted a dog more than anything.

i was obsessed with them. i loved them. i had all kinds of books about dogs – about breeds, about history, about training them, you name it – because i wanted to learn everything i could.

and, gradually, i did learn everything i could. i filled my brain with all things dog.

i studied what they ate, their temperaments, their ailments. if it had to do with dogs, i was totally interested. most of my friends had dogs, so they were always around. when i was ten and eleven, i even spent my sunday mornings helping one of my neighbours feed and play with the “patients” (more cats than dogs, but still) at the vet clinic where she worked across the street, and i was on cloud nine when her family asked me to check in on their boston terrier twice a day while they went on holiday.

i could identify just about every breed i saw out in the world, and was able to make educated guesses about the lineage of mutts. i knew which ones needed lots of exercise (border collies) and which ones had very short life spans (great danes) and which ones didn’t bark (basenjis) and which ones came from japan (shiba inu) . i knew what to feed them and what not to feed them, how to clip their nails and why regular brushing was so important (cuts down on the wet-dog smell).

though i never had a dog of my own, i was an expert before i ever hit my teens. and, to this day, i can easily access that knowledge i accrued in my formative years. trixie thinks it’s funny that, like a canine encyclopedia, i can still spout random facts and obscure names and dog-keeping tips all these years later.

so, earlier today, my mom was driving me home and spotted a rather tall, scruffy, orange and black terrier being walked along the sidewalk.

“oh, now that’s a cute dog,” she said. “i like that one.”

i looked at it, then immediately said, “that’s an airedale terrier.”

and thought about my childhood.

tolerating uncertainty

“what’s going on? i feel like there’s this blanket of sadness wrapped around you, and i’m swimming through glue to reach you.”

that’s what a friend of mine said to me last night. it was so surprising and poetic that i mentally made a note to remember it as she said it.

she’s a nurse, and very intuitive. i’d gone to talk to her about medical things, but she zeroed in elsewhere. i haven’t really felt like myself this past month, physically or emotionally. it’s been a bit loopy (see: wednesday’s carnival analogy), occasionally rough, and she’s noticed the change even though i only see her once a week or so.

she asked me questions. sincerely. thoughtfully. with caring and concern. she listened considerately when i answered, paid attention to what i was saying and noticed when i started to lose my composure ever-so-slightly. she wanted to know all kinds of things about what my body’s been doing lately, but also how my heart and head have been feeling. i mentioned physical issues, she probed about emotional ones.

it was a little strange, this exchange. but also very helpful. it’s been my experience that most people don’t really want to know how you are when they ask, “how are you?”, especially if your answer is anything other than, “i’m fine!”

so, to have someone ask how i am, and then keep asking, and actually listen to what i’m saying (and also pick up what i’m not saying) was incredibly comforting. even more so because, though she certainly didn’t have all the answers, she was positive and encouraging and willing to do what she could to help me find some.

and i thought that was pretty nice.

it's fitting and i like it

my horoscope for this week, from rob brezsny's free will astrology:

I wonder if you can you handle this much healing intensity, Cancerian. The possibilities for transforming difficult parts of your life are substantial. I'll name a few ways this could play out: 1. A confusing riddle may be partially solved through a semi-divine intervention. 2. A sore spot could be soothed thanks to the power of your curiosity. 3. An ignorance that has caused you pain may be illuminated, allowing you to suffer less. 4. If you can summon the capacity to generously tolerate uncertainty, you may find and rehabilitate an orphaned part of your life. I'm not saying for sure that any of this stuff will happen, but the odds are favorable that at least one will.

may i get off, please?

i feel scrambled.

like my body, heart and mind have somehow been thrown onto a bunch of freaky internal midway rides and can’t get off any of them.

bumper cars.

tilt-a-whirl.

the funhouse’s disorienting hall of mirrors.

a swing ride that turns the world into a blur.

and a roller coaster on a relentless loop, full of slow climbs and sudden steep drops.

i probably should have gone to the doctor sooner.

allsorts

it’s groundhog day. the ontario groundhog says six more weeks of winter... but our winter has been pretty tepid, and i love the cold anyway, so that’s fine by me.

yesterday, i watched He’s Just Not That Into You and was pleasantly surprised. i found ginnifer goodwin and jennifer connelly especially strong, and i even teared up a little at the end. next up is Last Chance Harvey, with dustin hoffman and emma thompson, which i’ve wanted to see for ages.

i’ve had night sweats every night for the past two and a half weeks. that, and a host of other bizarre symptoms, sent me to the doctor today. test results will be back in a week.

when i came home, there was a giant bag of individual TAZO™ tea packets sitting on the give-away table in the lobby of my building. it’s the table where residents can leave things they’d like to give away – books, dishes, videos, whatnot. today? a big sack of tea. six different flavours, probably 30 or so packets of each flavour. so i took some. but not all. because i believe in sharing.

tonight, Lost returns. i am readying my spaghetti and root beer.

tomorrow, i will begin research for a new project. it doesn’t pay, for now, but hopefully will deliver a huge return on my investment someday.

it’s time for me to make a decision about my dental care. i think a new dentist is in my future.

i’ve started doing sudoku puzzles as a way of relaxing my brain. so far, i’m still mastering “easy” puzzles, but have successfully ventured into the occasional “medium.”

i had krispy kreme donuts on the weekend, and they were delicious.

sandra bullock called me a “cool chick” once. so, i don’t care what anybody says, i’m happy she’s nominated for an oscar.

current daydreams

a sound night's sleep.

spaghetti and root beer.

florida in may.

park slope in october.

chicago in december.

a pile of paid work.

a nicholl fellowship.

1400 square feet.

success.

peace of mind.