20 August 2004, 3:50 peeyem
I had a shaky moment yesterday at the breast
center.
I was filling out a form for the insurance lady and was automatically
checking NO boxes beside questions.
Have you ever had breast cancer? NO.
Has an immediate relative had breast cancer? NO.
Have you ever had radiation? NO.
Have you ever had breast surgery? NO.
Only I have. I had surgery last year. It said it right there on that piece
of paper: Aspiration/Biopsy.
And for some reason that made my breath catch in my throat. I'm a woman
who has had surgery on her breast.
For the rest of my life, I will be a woman who has had a cancer scare,
and who will have to have every lump or change documented and checked
and checked again.
When I got back to the pink shirt waiting room, there were other women
there, most older than me, one probably a bit younger. The one who struck
me was one who was maybe 45. She'd clearly been there before. She didn't
bring anything to read, and she didn't read anything that was available
there. She sat there with her arms crossed over her chest, her right hand
covering her mouth, waiting. When the mammographer came to get her, she
followed silently, then came back to the waiting room and waited some
more. Then the ultrasound tech came to get her and she still hadn't said
anything.
I finally went for my first set of mammograms and when I came back, she
was in the waiting room again, arms crossed, hand over her mouth. I began
to wonder if she was trying to push down nausea. I remarked that I hated
those stupid blouses; she smiled wanly and said, "you get used to
them. Then you don't notice them anymore."
When I came back from my second set of mammograms, she was gone. I hope
they did her ultrasound and told her all was well.
18 August 2004, 12:30 peeyem
I
cannot help myself. I love FM Radio. I love the patter as much as the
music. It disturbs me if there isn't any patter, in fact.
I think you can learn lots of bits of trivia on the radio.
Yesterday, for instance, I learned that if your car has airbags (and whose
car doesn't these days?), you should drive with your hands more at 9 and
3 than at 10 and 2, and you shouldn't wrap your thumbs around the steering
wheel. It makes good sense, if you think about it, because the airbag
leaves the steering wheel at great velocity and you could get your thumbs
bent back turblebad.
Since that was such good information to have, I've been trying to drive
that way and it's not as easy as it sounds. Because it's not natural to
not wrap your thumbs around something that's generally cylindrical. Think
about that. Do you play softball? Tennis? Do you ever carry an umbrella?
Do you haul the garbage up to the curb? Do you ever pour things from a
pitcher? Use a water hose? Hammer nails? Drink from a water bottle?
In addition to the unnaturalness of the way it feels to be gripping the
wheel with your four fingers and the pads under your thumbs, it also puts
your thumbs in the up position that they tell you to avoid when typing
to avoid a repetitive stress injury.
So there's your choice: get your thumbs ripped off by your airbag or give
yourself a carpal tunnel syndrome driving your car. Either way, you wouldn't
be able to open your own canned catfood.
16 August 2004, 1:45 peeyem
It has come to my attention that you can now buy a product at Target called the Anti-panti. The anti-panti is marketed to those who have learned the evils of the trashy thong panty and have developed a, er, rash of problems.
It seems that young women, and apparently they are legion, are unable to wear their low-rise jeans because they can't wear their thongs with them. The anti-panti is a flannel circle with sticky stuff on the backside and you stick inside your jeans, which would seem not to fill the need of those who wear low rise jeans with thongs, since you still can't see a thong that isn't there.
But what I really want to know is what kind of world do we live in where decent, God-fearing, voting, non-littering citizens can't just go without their underwear?
Also of note is that today is the anniversary of Elvis Presley's death. On this day in 1977, Daddy and Gina and Robby and Kim and I drove down to Daytona Beach for our yearly vacation with Daddy's brother Bobby and his family, JoAnn and Beverly and Alan. I walked into the hotel room first and turned on the television and heard the news. I don't guess we thought much about it, because we were on vacation and because back then, we just weren't that attuned to the lives of the rich and famous.
5 August 2004, 1:46 peeyem
Here we go again.
Today we will talk more about why, if we are eligible to vote, we should, every chance we get.
I am not political by nature, but I keep hearing and reading these dumbass reasons why people don't vote, not the least of which is "If neither Bush nor Kerry can change the situation in the Middle East, then I'll respectfully decline to vote for president."
But it's not just about the Middle East. It's not just about the war, or the notwar or whatever it is this week, and it's not just about oil.
It's about conservation of natural resources, choice, privacy, capital punishment, education, healthcare, care for the elderly, cloning, and about a million more things. There's talk of ratifying the Constitution so Arnold Schwartzenegger can run for president, for crying out loud.
It's about the Supreme Court, and the fact that at least two seats will likely come open in the next four years, and the only way to get a seat on that particular bench is to be nominated by the President.
It's about your own local schools and your water and the streets you travel on every day.
It's about Cynthia McKinney, who everybody and his damn brother bitches about, but she's on her way again, because not enough people came out to vote for someone else.
It's about James Hart and his campaign. Even the Republicans don't want him.
Whatever your feelings about any of these things, go vote. Put your money where your mouth is. Because sitting at home grinding your teeth over the evening news isn't getting any of us anywhere.
Living
in the
Past?
2004
2003
2002
