The Funny Thing

Every 6 months I have to get naked and let a stranger look at all my skin. Like Buffalo Bill but in  white lab coat. Details: After having a melanoma so small there's no measurement small enough to categorize it, I now attend biannual dermatology appointments where they search my whole body for more microscopic spots of cancer. The weird thing is, they insist I change from street clothes into a medical gown. And then the doctor pushes aside the gown piece by piece to look at every inch of my skin: between my toes, through my scalp like a monkey picking bugs, under my boobs, literally everywhere. And they make casual conversation with me. While picking bugs. It's like a vaginal exam, but all over. And here's the funny part: they are looking for dots on my skin that could kill me. Killer dots. Tiny, killer, dots. And just because the doctor doesn't find anything, doesn't mean it's not here. I also have to have an eye doctor look at the skin BEHIND my eyes to...

I loved taking tests as a kid. Which is weird. It was a big release to fill in all the blanks, regurgitate all the facts, and be done with a large set of information. Details: I've had to wait for test results from dermatology biopsies, MRI's of my brain, shoulder, lumbar spine, blood tests that will determine if I have cancer, an immune disorder, or a deadly virus. Once they take the sample off of- or out of- my body, a stopwatch starts in my mind. I've found that the longer it takes for a doctor to call with the results, the more healthy the results are. But that doesn't stop or slow the insane pace of the clock. The funny thing I learned about easing the anxiety around waiting is.... call the office. You can get away with calling the office maybe three times. The first time, you can straight-up ask if the results are back yet. They'll say no. And they'll be annoyed with you. The second time, you can tell them you want to make sure they have your current...

Physical Therapy is the worst game of Simon Says there ever was. Details: Exactly 4 weeks after spending 4 days in a hospital with a terrifying mystery virus, I started feeling soreness in my shoulders and legs as I put the kids to bed. When I woke up the next morning I couldn't lift my left foot off the ground or raise my arms above shoulder-height. So after ruling out stroke, heart attack, arthritis, autoimmune disorders, trauma, injury, deep vein thrombosis, urinary tract infection, and probably 12 other things, they let me go home with an order to see a physical therapist to try to regain the function in my legs. The funny thing about physical therapy is- it's like mandatory optional torture. Do you want to get better? Then side-step 15 times with this rubber band around your legs. Do you want to walk again? Then lift your legs 10 times, and again 10 times, and now do it with a ball between you knees, and now with another rubber band around your knees. The weird thi...

From now on, I'll always carry deodorant in my purse. Details: One afternoon I spiked a 104.5 fever, with a jackhammer headache, and vomiting. Blah blah blah, I spent 4 days in the hospital. And then it happened again a month later. The funny thing about unexpectedly arriving at a hospital for 4 days is that you have nothing you need with you. And the list of things you need is weird. When my husband brought me things from home he brought one t-shirt and a sports bra. On the way to visit me he remembered that I asked for deodorant. So he stopped at a gas station and grabbed me some Old Spice. I complained to my Future Wife about this and she showed up hours later with yoga pants, two more shirts, easy bras, a hair brush, face wash and lotion, my OWN deodorant, great smelling hand lotion, hair spray, scented body wash, a Norwex body washcloth and one of my journals. The weird thing about being in the hospital for days and days and days, is that you really want to go home. Bu...

I had cancer one time. For like 15 minutes. Details: It was malignant melanoma on the bottom surface of my right foot. I had one punch biopsy and then one giant excision. And since then I get something random biopsied once or twice a year. The weird thing about cancer is, once it's gone, they call you a cancer SURVIVOR. And the narrative around cancer right now is so weirdly- aggressively- about fighting and winning, or fighting and losing, that there's really no room for just: do have, don't have. I do a lot of work for the American Cancer Society because I just need more things to do in my life (not). But whenever I walk into that room, I'm a Survivor. Which makes it awkward when I meet other Survivors. I've been asked to speak at dinners, or give small motivational talks. I love doing that, but I always start by saying that I only had cancer for 15 minutes. If Cancer was karate, I'm still a white belt. I showed up for the class dressed in the uniform, b...

One time, I spent three nights in a psych ward voluntarily. Details: I have depression. On its own, it's pretty manageable. But when combined with the early 2000's, months of sleep deprivation, poor drug and alcohol consumption choices, and a short-lived, terrifying, but lovely, 7 month marriage.... even drugs weren't helping. I mentioned some specific plans to a friend, and baddah boom: we're in the ER. The weird thing is: you can't UNvolunteer for the psych ward. The psych ward is a very safe place. They make sure you don't have any shoelaces, or cigarettes, or phones, or lotion. They sit outside the shower if you want to get pretend-clean. They order your meals for you, but none of them can include coffee or soda. Whatever brought you in there, caffeine isn't one of the safe things. The funny thing about the psych ward is that you're never in there by yourself. The other people in the psych ward are amazing. They are so amazing, they kinda make...