…owing to the fact that I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday, and then my mother and I ran an errand or two. I was kind of wiped by the time I returned to Rancho Yesteryear so I spent the remaining amount of free time staring at TV reruns (Jerry, George, Elaine and Kramer) and the computer…though not at the same time.
Yesterday was the first time I saw the doc since after my surgery in April. In the past, he would refer to the parathyroid glands he removed as a “mass”—which is kind of confusing to me…I was raised Catholic, and that word means something a tad different in the vernacular of the Church. But yesterday was also the first time he used the “C” word—apparently they sent the “mass” (well, samples of it, I’m guessing—I’m sure he didn’t pack the whole “mass” in Styrofoam and ship it like with UPS or something) to an “expert” in Pennsylvania who confirmed, sure as shootin’, that it was cancerous.
The doc’s office made an appointment for me at the oncologist’s—whom I’ll see tomorrow morning early in the a.m. He (the surgeon) is pretty optimistic that he took all of it out (and I am, too) but it doesn’t hurt to hedge one’s bets. I won’t lie to you—when I heard the “C” word the ol’ Yesteryear sphincter got a bit tight. But, hey—life is a gamble and the days are just so many decks, as Tom T. Hall once observed. There’s not much I can do but just wait and see and in the meantime play the hand I’m dealt.
(For the record, the doc told me that cases like mine are exceedingly rare—there are only about five a year…worldwide. It’s nice to be special…but I don’t think I’m comfortable being that special.)
On the way back from the doc (after we dropped off a pair of prescriptions at Walgreen’s) Mom and I stopped by Bell’s—a little hole-in-the-wall supermarket that sister Kat refuses to go into, for—as she states—“hygienic reasons”…although it’s really not all that bad. (I will say I was rather impressed by the array of tattoos sported by a woman working in the bakery…and I swear I’m not making that up.) Publix is twice the size of
I ostensibly went in for a loaf of bread, some sugar-free Kool Aid (again,
And finally, in the better-late-than-never department, I got a phone call last night from my other sister—sister Debbie—who informed me that she sent my step-grandmother a Mothers’ Day card…and received a reply from my step-aunt apologizing for taking so long (she wrote Debbie that “Mom corresponded with so many people,” prompting Debbie to ask “What am I, her freaking pen-pal?”) but that my step-Gran passed away in February. And yes, this was the first time any of us heard about it. If it wasn’t so tragic it would almost be funny—though I did joke that at least she didn’t wait until sending out the Christmas cards (“Mom’s been sort of quiet this year—owing to the fact that she died in February. Joyeux Noel to all!”)…
Oh, I forgot to mention this yesterday—but Monday marked the 60th anniversary of the release of the Humphrey Bogart-Gloria Grahame film classic In a Lonely Place (1950). Ed Copeland was nice enough to let me rent a little space in his hall to talk about it, which you’ll find here.