Relaxed, Withdrawn, And Stabbed

Today was the first day of my Christmas vacation that I got to relax. If by relax, you understand that it means I only had to do six loads of laundry, whip up a pot of spaghetti for lunch, drive the #1 son to basketball practice, shop at The Devil's Playground and Save-A-Lot, and drive the #1 son to watch a basketball tournament. But really, it was better that sitting in freakin' doctors' offices like I did for three days last week, or driving around making bank deposits and paying bills, and calling the credit card company to see why an automatic withdrawal of $5,583.28 was taken out of our checking account. Is the suspense killing you? Yeah. It was killing me, too. The rep said, "Oh, that is a withdrawal from HH Manufacturing." Like that made it all better, finding out that HH's workplace had withdrawn a tidy sum of his hard-earned money. Then she went on to say that it looked like the company had direct-deposited his check like they do every month, but had also deposited that $5,583.28 for no good reason, and had quickly withdrawn it. Good to know.

Speaking of doctors' offices...Wednesday at 3:30 I go to see the ENT whizkid about my goiterous neck and its nodule. Nobody called me about my neck-stabbing results on Christmas Eve, as Doc and The Stabber had thought might happen. That kind of worried me, because even though The Stabber had seemed optimistic, I figured that nobody would dare call me with bad news on Christmas Eve. Except maybe my Gyno's receptionist/wife. So it was kind of a bittersweet holiday, what with me constantly remembering to worry about my mortality.

Monday morning at 8:30, Doc's nurse called and said she had just spoken to Doc (who was taking this week off), and that he said my stabbing test showed a benign pattern. That is good news, she said, as if I do not know the meaning of benign, though I certainly won't hold it against her. I called my mom and my HH, and tried to call my Mabel, but she was apparently not taking calls, being on a cruise or beach somewhere, enjoying a beverage with her ship-shape thyroid. But I noticed that Nursie did not say the nodule was benign, only that it showed a benign pattern. Still, I'm counting that as a rousing bit of good fortune. Until I see the ENT whizkid on Wednesday.

I am now concerned that Young Dr. WhizKid will say that the fine-needle biopsy was inconclusive (meriting a big ol' 'I told ya so' from Gyno's receptionist/wife), and that he still wants to go ahead with a course-needle stabbing. But maybe not.

We'll cross that half-empty glass when we come to it. Wednesday at 3:30.