tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17833160991076811322024-02-02T00:27:04.170-08:00Confidently AwesomeThis blog is not fitting for children, the super religious, people that do not curse, and those that object to partial nudity, primal urges, fornication, bodily functions, and selective morality.
I'm just a single gal and a rowdy individual that loves to laugh. I'm accidentally sexy and Confidently Awesome. I kiss and tell! This is my life according to me.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.comBlogger228125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-49283800360784136022023-02-02T12:39:00.001-08:002023-02-02T12:39:54.977-08:00He’s Got Jokes<p><span style="color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">March 20, 2020</span></p><p><span style="color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">“Babe, will you please rub my back so I can fall asleep?”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">#MyMississippiLove, Jamie replies, “Yuh.”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">I roll over onto my tummy. Jamie begins rubbin’ my back so good that I twist onto my right side to get more pressure on the muscle underneath my left scapula.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">Sweetly he whispers, “I can feel where your wings would be.”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">“Awe, Babe. That’s the sweetest thing you’ve said to…”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">“…your demon wings.”</p><h1 class="gmail-wp-block-heading" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-top: 1.3125em; margin-bottom: 1.3125em; clear: both; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">#SoWellLoved</h1>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-62654758812333642992023-02-02T12:38:00.001-08:002023-02-02T12:38:04.782-08:00One Year<p><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">January 12, 2020</span></p><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"><br></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"><span style="color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">On our first date, we were sitting in my car in the parking lot of Mayuri Indian restaurant, talking for hours.</span><br></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;"><img src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2020/01/img_7852.jpg?w=770" class="gmail-size-full gmail-wp-image-138 x-apple-edge-to-edge" style="width: calc(100% + 0px); margin-left: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; height: auto;"></p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">It was in those moments that #MyMississippiLove knew he wanted me to be his girlfriend. He asked. Then Jamie mentioned, “It’s kind of cheesy, but who knows, in a year from today I could be bringing you back here to celebrate us being together one year. We could get dressed in the same clothes and spend the day together.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">This morning, as I slide my jeans up over my hips and button them I asked him, “Do you even recognize I’m wearing the exact same outfit I wore on our first date?”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">He is sitting on the edge of our bed, he grabs my hips to pull me into him. With his left hand on my hip he reaches his right hand down to my left ring finger. He traces his fingers over my engagement ring and wedding band, “It’s not exactly the same; you got these. And these. And, these,” he reaches up to my ears and neck to touch the matching earrings and necklace that he gave me as wedding gifts.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I had no clue he notices these small details.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I ask, “Do you think you could fall in love with me again?”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">“No. I can’t. Because I’m already in love with you.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">We spend the day tracing the steps of our first date, that was a year ago today.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;"><img src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2020/01/img_7851.jpg?w=770" class="gmail-size-full gmail-wp-image-139 x-apple-edge-to-edge" style="width: calc(100% + 0px); margin-left: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; height: auto;"><img src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2020/01/img_1636.jpg?w=770" class="gmail-size-full gmail-wp-image-140 x-apple-edge-to-edge" style="width: calc(100% + 0px); margin-left: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; height: auto;"></p></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-8432317700544150272023-02-02T12:37:00.001-08:002023-02-02T12:37:17.707-08:00Bad Days<p><span style="color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">November 13, 2019</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">Some days are good. I hadn’t cried in more than three days. Since July, that’s a record.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">Some days are bad, today is one of these.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">I had a nightmare that I am reliving all of this again, brand new. The doctor just told me that I have cancer.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">I wake up crying this morning. Not little tears, but full on sobbing and gasping for air. My face, pillow, neck, and the hem of my pajamas are soaked.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">Then, I don’t know what to do because as much as I want to forget this and get over it, I am sad over something I cannot control.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">I am a huge proponent of mental health. As such, I am seeing a professional. I do not want to go. I cannot help to think, I am crying in my sleep, how can the professional control that?</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">#EndometrialCancer</p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-88517756982299751472023-02-02T12:36:00.001-08:002023-02-02T12:36:25.309-08:00The “Correct” Way<p><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">November 11, 2019</span></p><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-size: 18px; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;"><br></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-size: 18px; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">I’ll admit that I am particular. I know it. You know it. It’s not an understatement, I like things the way I like them.</span><br></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-size: 18px; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;"><br></span></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">His eyes twinkle and he laughs as he mouths, “You’re extra,” when I have a touch of peculiarities showing.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Sometimes, out of nowhere, I hear him whisper, “Extra-ness.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">When I cook and it’s his turn to clean after supper, #MyMississippLove accuses me of hovering like a vulture until I can crow-hop in to clean everything again, right behind him. He’s not wrong. Because he’s made mention of this bad habit of mine, something I didn’t even realize I do, I’m trying to let the way he does things be enough.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;"><img src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2019/11/img_1024.jpg?w=770" class="gmail-size-full gmail-wp-image-133 x-apple-edge-to-edge" style="width: calc(100% + 0px); margin-left: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; height: auto;"><img src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2019/11/img_1025.jpg?w=770" class="gmail-size-full gmail-wp-image-134 x-apple-edge-to-edge" style="width: calc(100% + 0px); margin-left: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; height: auto;"></p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I’m still on chore restriction. I can’t lift, sweep, mop, vacuum, etc. I’m slow. I tire easily.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">We were raised with the philosophy, “A family that works together, stays together.” I’m a huge believer in sharing chores. To sit on the sidelines is difficult.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Don’t get me wrong, it’s not <em style="box-sizing: inherit;">that</em> difficult. Some of it is quite enjoyable. I mean, the video I recorded of him vacuuming under the bed this past weekend is foreplay for the next five weeks, possibly much longer.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;"><b><insert vacuum video></b></p><span style="color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;"></span><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">For the first time in a month, tonight, we went grocery shopping.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I carried up the eggs, bread and chips: an entire three bags. Our apartment building has push button door codes. Usually Jamie loads down both arms while also punching in the codes, and holding the doors for me. He’s a firm believer in “making it in one trip or it stays in the car.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Tonight, in the cold, I pressed the codes and waited to hold open the doors for him.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Jamie carries up all of the heavy groceries. He even makes two full trips.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I also usually put all of the groceries away. Like I said, I’m particular. I like the cheese to go in the cheese drawer, the mustard in the door, the eggs in their slot on the short shelf. When I look in the frig, I don’t want to search – it should be where it goes. Also, this way, if we need groceries I can open the frig, take a glance, and I know exactly what we are missing.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Tonight, for no other reason than he shooed me out of the way to take over, Jamie put away the groceries.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">All of this to say, now, as he is softly snoring next to me, I am fighting every urge not to swoop back into that refrigerator and rearrange it the “correct” way.</p></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-79448162149357629312023-02-02T12:35:00.001-08:002023-02-02T12:35:22.975-08:00“You Gave Yourself Cancer Because You’re Fat.”<p><a href="https://aviconway.wordpress.com/2019/11/06/you-gave-yourself-cancer-because-youre-fat/" rel="bookmark" style="font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; color: rgb(227, 137, 0); opacity: 0.667; text-decoration: none; outline: 0px;">November 6, 2019</a></p><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"><br></div><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">The next morning I got up and drove the hour and a half to work.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">I text my Mom. Then, I call her.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;"><img src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2019/11/image-1-2.jpg?w=770" class="gmail-size-full gmail-wp-image-129 x-apple-edge-to-edge" style="width: calc(100% + 0px); margin-left: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; height: auto;"></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">I break down while informing my boss at work.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">Somehow I manage to robotically navigate through the next day and a half.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">There is not much I remember about my first oncology appointment, but some memories are vivid.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">I am extremely careful to pick my outfit. Because, I know without a doubt, once I have the news confirmed, the dress I am wearing is tainted. It will become, “The dress I was wearing when I got cancer.”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">Now, I cannot remember which dress I wore.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">Until Jamie started going to all appointments, my Mom sits next to and comforts me through every doctor appointment. She is the holder of tissues – and the tissues at doctor’s offices are worthless. I might as well blow my nose directly into my hand as the thin paper disintegrates immediately. Most importantly, she is strength as I fall apart.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">Dr. Santoso comes into the exam room. He is accompanied by his nurse. He is matter of fact. I have pre-cancer, atypia hyperplasia with a 40% chance of it having already spread to my uterus. This is something that I’ve had since the previous D&C in November 2017, something he accuses me of knowing about and doing nothing about.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">I correct him. This is new. This is something that Dr. Donato never followed up with me.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">We want to know how I got this.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">Dr. Santoso says, “You gave yourself cancer because you’re fat.”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">None of this makes sense. There are so many fat people without cancer. Let’s suspend that line of thought and possible research. This is the first confirmation that I have cancer and the oncologist is using it as an opportunity to shame me for being fat.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">He has no bedside manner. He is rude.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">The lack of compassion should not be a surprise. Without a warning from Dr. Donato or Dr. Santoso, they sent me an automated telephone call announcing this appointment, without a declaration of what or who I was seeing. I had to Google the phone number to learn it is an oncology appointment.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">Santoso asks, “Do you ever drink fruit juice or sugary drinks?”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">I reply, “Yes. Sometimes.” I scoff because this is an odd line of questioning.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">“Don’t drink it any more. You only drink water and you will lose weight.”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">I might have an orange or cranberry juice once every six months. I don’t see how that is going to work. He doesn’t know my diet and is making assumptions.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">He recommends I immediately schedule a hysterectomy.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">A hysterectomy is out of the question. Jamie and I already discussed still trying to have a baby. Our ultimate goal is to treat this issue, have a baby, and then immediately after delivery have the hysterectomy. We don’t have the need or desire to go into the business of breeding multiples or repopulating rural Mississippi. We refer to our plan as “One and done.”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">Santoso offers a second opinion, recommending one of his mentors, Dr. Smiley. I request the second opinion. I never want to see Santoso again.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">Because saving fertility is of the utmost importance, he also recommends a fertility specialist, Dr. Kutteh. I request that too.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">Santoso and his nurse leave the exam room, but tell us to stay there. Mom and I do not know if we are to stay to wait for an appointment. There is confusion. There is a lack of communication from the doctor. We find a different nurse. She explains that it will take days and we are free to leave.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">As I approach the nurse’s desk to check-out, I catch a glimpse of my Dad sitting in the waiting room. He is content to sit on his phone. He is innocent of what was said in the exam room. He doesn’t know I have cancer. I break down. Then, I cry harder because he is sensitive, like me, and I don’t want him to know I was crying. I cry more because I don’t want to tell him.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">Mom and I stay in this hallway for a few minutes. She doesn’t know if she should put her arm around my shoulder or hug me. She is just as stunned as I am. I splash my face with water. There are no tissues. I use rough, brown, paper towels. At least they don’t soak my hands.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">I rush out of the office, trying not to make eye contact with my Dad. I make it to Jamie’s car. Heading towards home, I cry a majority of the commute.</p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-31704886413374849932023-02-02T12:33:00.001-08:002023-02-02T12:33:58.584-08:00Slowing to a Stop<p><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">October 10, 2019</span></p><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"><br></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">My cell phone begins ringing. I feel the buzz of my watch announcing the call. The caller ID notification shows McDonald Murrmann Center for Wellness & Health.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I think, ‘That’s odd. I was just there yesterday for the pregnancy test.’ I answer my phone, “Hello?”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">“Is this Averill?”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">“Yes.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">“This is Meredith. I met and spoke with you yesterday about pregnancy. But,” she pauses for longer than necessary, “I just couldn’t let it go. I decided to dig in your chart.” She pauses again, “Did you ever have a follow-up with Dr. Donato after your surgery in November 2017?”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">“No. I had to cancel the follow-up. My supervisor was on vacation and I couldn’t get off work.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">The surgery was November 30, 2017. The follow-up with Dr. Donato was scheduled for April 11, 2018. I figured if the biopsy results were bad they would have called prior to five months out. No news is good news, right? Besides, since then, I had gone in for my annual exam in November of 2018 and the pregnancy test yesterday. Nothing was said those times either. And yesterday Meredith said my chart looked good. Surely, if something were wrong someone from McDonald Murrmann would call me, and not wait a year-and-a-half.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Meredith continues her questions, “Are you sitting down?”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">“Yes.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">“Your biopsy results came back as,” she began spouting strings of four-or-more syllable words, things I’ve never heard before. Words I’m sure if strung together correctly would conjure spells. She keeps talking, “Your cells came back larger than expected. Endometrial. Uterine lining. 40% chance.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">There! I understand more than five words.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">“I don’t understand your vocabulary. What are you saying?”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">“All of this means you have pre-cancer and you should have been getting D&C biopsies every three months for the past two years. It’s pre-cancer.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I’m sitting at my desk at work. I scribble, “pre-cancer” in blue ink on my scratch paper. And then I scribble the words again over top of the original scribble. I keep scratching the words over top each other.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I sit there, watching my hand repeat the scribbles. It is <span dir="ltr">around 1pm</span>. The sun is so warm and bright streaming in through the skylight above my desk. Everything white is glowing: my papers, the desktop, my office walls, all glowing with a magnificent brightness. The sun on my back feels like the first day in Spring when the rays are strong enough to warm my skin through my clothes. I want to soak in the warmth, to sit there basking in the sun, to ignore the numbness creeping in that coincides with the audacity of fate. Time is slowing to a stop and yet my mind is racing. I feel like I am swimming through Karo syrup, backwards, trying to be me from five minutes ago.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I cannot exactly remember what Meredith said next. I think she asked if I was still there.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I’m pretty sure that I blurt out, “But, I just got married! How do I tell my husband of three weeks that I have pre-cancer?”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">My gynecological surgeries are not a secret, I already explained to Jamie that over the past 17 years I had three D&Cs: dilation and curettage. One coinciding to remove a poly-binomial cyst from my right Fallopian tube. A second D&C with cyst removal from both my right and left ovaries. The third one in November of 2017 to scrape out a polyp. I had never actively tried to get pregnant.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Until we made the decision to start a family, I had been on birth control for a decade.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I told Jamie, “I’ve had a lot of surgeries. I’m older, it may not happen.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">He said, “Regardless, we will have a great life together.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">To beat all, none of these surgeries came with a diagnosis or a reason as to why it kept happening. Over the past 8 years it was paired with Dr. Donato constantly reminding me, “You’re fat.” Duh, everyone can see that. “Lose weight.” When I dropped 60 lbs, she didn’t even acknowledge it. “We need to decide to remove your uterus, when you think you are done with it,” without an explanation why.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">On the other end of the phone, I hear Meredith talking, “You need to have emergency surgery, another D&C, as soon as possible. The surgery center will call you with a date.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I ask and she tells me to continue with the plan from yesterday to include the prenatal vitamins, the ovulation and pregnancy tests, and the prescribed hormone to start my cycle. The surgery will just be additional.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Immediately my mind thinks, ‘How do I protect Jamie and my parents?’</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I lead with having surgery and large cells.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I call Jamie.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I text my Mom.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;"><img src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2019/10/image.jpg?w=770" class="gmail-size-full gmail-wp-image-85 x-apple-edge-to-edge" style="width: calc(100% + 0px); margin-left: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; height: auto;"></p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">The surgery center calls.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;"><img src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2019/10/image-1.jpg?w=770" class="gmail-size-full gmail-wp-image-84 x-apple-edge-to-edge" style="width: calc(100% + 0px); margin-left: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; height: auto;"></p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">July 8, 2019 arrives.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">For my 2017 surgery, Dr. Donato was an hour and a half late. My assigned nurse let me know, “We are just waiting on the doctor.” Through the curtain I could hear the nurses at that surgery center complain about her constant and notoriously late arrivals. I interject, “None of this is new. I’ve had to wait in an exam room for her for three hours, multiple times.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">This time I was expecting a repeat of Dr. Donato’s tardiness. To my absolute surprise she was present.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I explain to her, “In my previous surgery, you wrenched the shit out of my back. You put my back out. I was down for recovery for my back rather than the D&C. Please be careful with my back this time.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">She looked surprised that I would talk to her like that. Nobody else is going to be my advocate better than me. She mentions that she will use a back brace.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I also have a talk with the anesthesiologists.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I am wheeled into the surgery room. The doctors and crew are wearing what appear to be Columbia or North Face fleece jackets. The air feels like icicles.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">My Mom is sitting next to my gurney, holding my hand.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I know the routine. I’ve done it three times before. In order to leave, I have to get up to pee. They need to make sure my plumbing is connected correctly.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I want to ask to go to the restroom, I can see the open door to the restroom from my recovery bay, but I start coughing, uncontrollably. The pain burns down the center of my chest. With each cough I feel the hollow burning of bronchitis.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I also have a splitting headache, but manage to tell the nurse that I need to pee.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">She brings a bedpan and sets it next to me on my righthand side.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I do not know who she thinks I am, but even in my anesthetic stupor I know that I do not use port-a-potties unless it is a downright emergency. I am sure as hell not going to use a bedpan, in-front of everyone, especially when my legs are perfectly capable of walking the 10 feet to the toilet. I am certainly not as modest as I could be, but I have to draw the line and it is most definitely here.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I refuse the bedpan. Then, I turn my brain off and no longer hear her talking to me.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Mom tries to explain that something happened to me during surgery. My breathing messed up. It wasn’t good. She said, “It’s not the nurse’s fault that you are not allowed out of bed yet. That’s why you are coughing.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I don’t respond. I hold it.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Dr. Donato comes by my recovery bay. She says she thinks the pre-cancer results from November 2017 are a fluke.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">They put me in the wheelchair to leave and we make a pit stop in the restroom before heading home.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Once home, I make this Facebook post:</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;"><img src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2019/10/image-2.jpg?w=770" class="gmail-size-full gmail-wp-image-87 x-apple-edge-to-edge" style="width: calc(100% + 0px); margin-left: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; height: auto;"></p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;"><img src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2019/10/image-3.jpg?w=770" class="gmail-size-full gmail-wp-image-86 x-apple-edge-to-edge" style="width: calc(100% + 0px); margin-left: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; height: auto;"></p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">We wait for the biopsy results.</p></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-75939207457911395992023-02-02T12:32:00.001-08:002023-02-02T12:32:53.741-08:00Biological Child<p>October 9, 2019</p><p><span style="caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: large; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Jamie and I wanted a biological child.</span><br></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit; font-size: large;">We dreamed about it together. </span></span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;"><span style="box-sizing: inherit; font-size: large;">In fact, before we w</span></span><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">ere married we decided to try to get pregnant immediately after our “I do’s.” He said there was no time to waste we should start our family immediately. </span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">Two weeks after our wedding, I missed my cycle. With excitement he exclaims, “Go pee on a stick!”</span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">We drive to Walgreens to pick up a box of pregnancy tests. We come home. I pee. We wait. </span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">It does not show any lines, not one single line to say negative and definitely no double lines to say positive. The test is a dud. </span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">We wait an hour before I can produce another test. I set the timer on my phone for five minutes. We wait. </span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">From the moment we decided to make a family together we had been mulling over names. We made countless suggestions of characters from our favorite songs, books, and movie heroes. We picked out what we agreed to be the perfect ones, a moniker unusual enough to be different but not weird and we made sure to also include familial representations. </span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">We daydreamed about him or her, the traits we wanted from each other. I wanted our son to have Jamie’s blue-green eyes with the gold ring around the pupil, his lack of allergies, his quick wit, sharp tongue, mischievous smirk, and the twinkle in his eye. The same twinkle passed down from his Daddy to him – the one that lets me know he’s up to no good and the getting is going to be good. He did not want our children to have my sensitive soul, but instead to be thick skinned; I agree.</span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">He assures me he would instill in our child a sense of fairness and justice. “But,” he warned “he’ll probably be sent home from school for standing up for himself.” ‘Standing up for himself’ is code for fighting. Jamie has never been one to stand down from a bully. “If it’s a her, she’ll pack a devastating hook too.”</span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">Jamie talked about our son’s future appearance. With his Dad’s build and my Dad’s build, we would create a linebacker. We’d spend the next twenty or more years at Little League games. </span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">I would remind Jamie, little girls wrap their Daddy’s around their little fingers and they can also play in Little Leagues. </span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">“BUZZZZZ!!!” The longest five minutes has passed. He gets up to check the results. </span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">From our master bathroom he mumbles one syllable, “nah.”</span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">I can tell from his tone and inflection he is disappointed. He admits, “I never wanted a child before I met you. Now, I wanted this to be positive.”</span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">“Something’s wrong,” I mutter.</span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">He glides towards me. He puts his arms around my waste, “Go to the Dr. Get checked out. Put your mind at ease. You could be stressed out. That won’t help us.” He reassured me that everything is okay. </span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">Besides, he was right, I was worried. The day before we had spent an evening in the emergency room after he cut himself in a cooking accident.</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"> <img src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2019/10/image-4.jpg?w=770" class="gmail-size-full gmail-wp-image-93 x-apple-edge-to-edge" style="width: calc(100% 0px); margin-left: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; height: auto;"></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">The next day, </span><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">Tuesday, I call for an appointment. I explain to the lady scheduling my appointment, “I’ve missed my cycle. I took a pregnancy test. It showed negative.” </span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">Two days later I go in to the office, <span dir="ltr">on June 13.</span> I had never been to the OBGYN specifically to pee in a cup. It had always been to play “Fat or Pregnant” where I was always just fat. Well, actually, I’d specifically go in for a yearly exam or a follow-up and just-so-happen to always be fat. </span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">I wait in the exam room. To my surprise I am completely dressed in my own clothes, not in an open gown surrounded only by freezing air. </span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">The nurse walks in, her head bowed, her eyes lowered to the floor. Her voice is somber as she says, “I’m sorry. I have bad news, Miss Conway. You aren’t pregnant.”</span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">I can’t help but to burst into laughter, “I know. I figured. I took a test at home. It showed I’m not pregnant. I needed to come in because I missed my cycle with a negative pregnancy test.” </span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">Her spirit lifts as she explains, “I never know if a woman in your position will be devastated or if her pregnancy test at home showed a false positive. The people answering the phones to set the appointments don’t put that information in the tickets.” </span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">“It sounds like they ought to.”</span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">The nurse agrees and tells me to hold-tight she’ll send someone in to discuss pregnancy with me. </span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">Within a few minutes the nurse practitioner, Meredith, comes in. She says, “Everything looks good in your chart.”</span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">Meredith explains I’d be an older Mom and there are some potential complications, such as becoming pregnant and the estimated percentage of having a mentally handicapped baby. She tells me that I might not have these potential issues if I were younger and in this same predicament of trying to get pregnant. She explains women usually have healthy babies until around 45 years of age but then the chances of birth defects increase significantly. </span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">She goes into great detail explaining how I should track ovulation and that I need to test myself daily for the next month. She tells me to immediately begin prenatal vitamins and take multiple pregnancy tests for the next two weeks, just incase it was too early for the test to read. Then, after two weeks, I should begin the prescribed medicine that will jumpstart my cycle again. She hands me photocopied flyers, more-so instruction sheets, and a sample pack of prenatal vitamins with added folic acid. </span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;"><img src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2019/10/img_0807.jpg?w=770" class="gmail-size-full gmail-wp-image-101 x-apple-edge-to-edge" style="width: calc(100% 0px); margin-left: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; height: auto;"></span><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;"><img src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2019/10/img_0808.jpg?w=770" class="gmail-size-full gmail-wp-image-102 x-apple-edge-to-edge" style="width: calc(100% 0px); margin-left: 0px; box-sizing: inherit; height: auto;"></span></p><p class="gmail-p1" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(17, 17, 17); color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word;"><span class="gmail-s1" style="box-sizing: inherit;">I walk out to the car, happily, to text the information to Jamie. It’s not daunting. We can do this. It should be easy – people that don’t even want to reproduce do it every day. </span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-62289528361734314122023-02-02T12:31:00.001-08:002023-02-02T12:31:30.599-08:00Sometimes We Laugh Harder<p><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">August 22, 2019</span></p><p><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><br></span></p><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">The only sperm bank joke I’ve ever heard was in high school. It went something like this:</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">A man and a woman meet in an elevator. “Where are you heading today?” asks the man.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">“I’m going to the third floor to give blood.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">“How much do you get paid for giving blood?”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">“About $20.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">“Wow,” says the man, “I’m going up to the fourth floor to donate sperm, and the sperm bank pays $100.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">The woman gets off the elevator.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">The next day, the same man and woman meet in the elevator.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">“Fancy meeting you again.” He asks, “third floor today?”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">With her mouth full and her eyes wide, she violently shakes her head no and waves four fingers in the air.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;"></p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Two days after the fertility appointment with Dr. Kutteh, I get a call from the fertility Dr.’s office in New Albany, MS. The nurse, Jessica, calls with the precise details of how to submit a sperm sample.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Either of us has to stop by the Dr.’s office to pick up a sample cup. Then, my husband must not ejaculate for five days. After the mandatory wait time, he may make the sample any way he deems necessary: on his own or with my help. When the time comes he will ejaculate the sample directly in the cup. We will have only 30 minutes from the moment of sample production and collection to get it to the hospital. And, it must be kept at body temperature. After 30 minutes the specimen is useless.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">At this point nurse Jessica becomes very serious, “I hate that I have to tell you this and it is the worst part of my job. But, I have to tell women this because they try it all the time. They try to bring their husband’s samples in their mouth. You cannot submit a sperm specimen from your mouth.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I am laughing so hard that I can’t breathe. Even in joking with Mom, I had no intention of making an oral sperm submission.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I let Jessica in on the joke with my Mom. She is laughing with relief. She tells me it’s difficult to give that necessary spiel. I can tell she has relaxed.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Then, I just have to ask, “For purely scientific knowledge, why can’t a sperm sample be made by mouth delivery?”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Jessica answers, “Well, by the time a woman makes it to us or the hospital, the sample becomes more saliva than sperm. That renders it useless because the count can’t be made.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">There you have it folks, that joke I heard in high school is a complete fabrication.</p></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-77899506502202343372023-02-02T12:30:00.001-08:002023-02-02T12:30:14.397-08:00Sometimes We Laugh<p><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">August 20, 2019</span></p><p><span style="color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></p><p><span style="color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">As my Mom and I sit across the expansive desk from the fertility Dr. we go over my medical history while also waiting for the test results of the ultra sound – internal wand covered in goop, not over the belly.</span></p><p><span style="color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></p><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">It is <span dir="ltr">August 20th</span>, the late afternoon sun is shining brightly through the gold tinted, floor to ceiling windows of Dr. Kutteh’s office. It’s hot next to the window. Three stories below is a pond surround by trees. There are some ducks lazily floating. Across the street is the backside of Baptist Memorial Hospital, or better known as Baptist East on Walnut Grove.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">My number one goal after being diagnosed with endometrial/uterine cancer is to save my fertility. My husband and family want to save my life.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Dr. Kutteh opens up his laptop. The results of the ultrasound show that I have four remaining follicles on my right ovary. Follicles are little hairs that signify there are eggs left inside the ovary. Dr. Kutteh explains that could mean I have, at the most approximately 14 eggs left. Of which the possibility of viability is not known. His initial diagnosis is to treat the cancer.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I try to keep control. Every breath since my diagnosis has been a struggle to remain in an emotional state of calm, just trying to keep it together. Inhale now, without crying. Exhale, keeping the tears in. Repeat for the next 16 hours until I can lay in bed with insomnia staring at the circulating ceiling fan illuminated by the television, which is on as a distraction.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I look sad. I’m supposed to stay stress-free. I am not. My miserable nosey coworker has been fabricating and spreading rumors that my marriage is in trouble because we got married too soon.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">All I want to do is sit in our living room with the curtains drawn and be numb by myself.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Now, one less person, an expert at that, thinks I should give up on motherhood.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">My emotions come out in the form ugly face contortions and tears.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I glance down at the water, again. I don’t want to be here. I want to be one of those ducks in the pond. The shade seems inviting. The water looks cool, much calmer than what is being discussed in this doctor’s office.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Foregoing all of the medical lingo, basically my eggs could be scrambled and worthless. Combined with my age and my cancer the likelihood of having a heathy baby, without a mental or physical handicapped is not a high probability. The idea of us getting pregnant on our own is projected at a low single digit percentage.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">We should look into in-vitro. We should look into egg harvesting and a uterine transplant. We should look into egg harvesting and surrogacy. I should start asking my friends and family to be a surrogate. We should look into egg donation so that at least one of us can be a biological parent. We should look into LiveStrong fertility services. We should look into adoption.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">All of which I’ve already researched. As a couple, we have already decided that adoption is not for us. Please stop suggesting it like it’s the first time we’ve thought of it. It’s a broken record.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">The monetary price of surrogacy might as well be equivalent to my Mom asking “do you have McDonald’s money?” when I was a child. If I wanted that as a feasible option, I should have been hoarding every penny my entire life.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">And, to us, it is absolutely absurd to make a GoFundMe request for our friends and family to foot this medical procedure.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I have always wanted to have a baby. At this point it’s a race against my biological clock combined with cancer. I have to see this through.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Dr. Kutteh proceeds with ordering a blood test.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">He goes on to explain that all of these tests would be futile if Jamie, my husband, has a fertility issue. Dr. Kutteh also writes an order for Jamie to submit a sample to the local fertility doctor in our small town.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Yes, a sperm sample. A splooge in a cup, or..</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">My Mom whispers under her breath, “Maybe you can bring in his sample to get tested.”</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">I slowly turn my face left towards her. I puff my cheeks out like my mouth is full and I cross my eyes in exasperation.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">“Averill Rosalyn!” she loudly reprimands as she swats my left leg.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">It’s exactly what she was thinking and we both burst out laughing. It’s a well-needed reprieve from all of the tears.</p><p style="box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; font-size: 18px;">Dr. Kutteh does not look up from his laptop. He does not acknowledge our conversation. He hands over Jamie’s hand-written order and ushers us out to the waiting area of the phlebotomist’s cubby.</p></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-68270422765696130702023-02-02T12:28:00.001-08:002023-02-02T12:28:51.529-08:00Sometimes There are Jokes<p>August 1, 2019. </p><p><span style="color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></p><p><span style="color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Jamie has a habit of opening envelopes and packages addressed to me. It’s not a big deal. I warn him if a secret birthday or holiday package will be arriving and ask that he avoids getting the mail. He does.</span></p><p><span style="color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">It’s August.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">A package arrives in the mail. It’s a padded envelope from Etsy. I know exactly what is going to be in the envelope. It’s a metal sign that says, “NO HANDBILLS.” It’s for our wall that will eventually be covered in music posters and handbills.</p><img src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2020/02/img_1800.jpg" alt="" class="gmail-wp-image-144 x-apple-edge-to-edge" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; width: calc(100% + 0px); margin-left: 0px; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; box-sizing: border-box; height: auto; vertical-align: bottom;"><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">Jamie opens it. The padding is actually tiny, white, styrofoam balls and grey fuzz.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">He hands me the package and warns, “Watch out you don’t touch the stuffing.”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">I quickly quip, “Why? Is it going to give me cancer?”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">I can’t help but to burst into maniacal laughter. It’s truly the first time I’ve laughed in almost a month. It is a laugh from deep within, a place of anger, a joke that was so funny because it is true, and a coping mechanism to avoid the severity and hurt caused by my situation and issue.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">He looks at me in shock. And with such innocence he responds, “No, you are dressed nice and I didn’t want you to get the mess all over your pretty dress.”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; box-sizing: inherit; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.75em; margin-left: 0px; word-break: break-word; color: rgb(17, 17, 17); font-family: "Libre Baskerville", Georgia, Georgia, "Times New Roman", Times, serif;">I stand there dumbfounded, but even to this day I find this to be a hysterical joke.</p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-34116172154369878832023-02-02T12:24:00.001-08:002023-02-02T12:24:49.448-08:00In Sickness and In Health<p><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Tuesday, July 23, 2019, 10:00 a.m. my cell phone is ringing.</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">I try to answer the call, but the swap button refuses to work.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"><img class="gmail-size-full gmail-wp-image-118" src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2019/11/image-6.jpg" width="1242" height="307" style="width: 380px !important; height: 93.929147px !important;"></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">I listen to the message on speaker:</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">[wpvideo DV7Isu2E ]</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">The message is actually Dr. Heather Donato. Who knew? She is capable of actually contacting a patient, unlike after my previous surgery and unlike sending plagiarized photocopies.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">I immediately call her back. I am sent to voicemail and leave a message with Dr. Donato’s nurse.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Our apartment is a loft. Their are only seven doors in our place, one of which goes to the bedroom but the wall does not even reach the ceiling. There is no privacy, there are no secrets, and all phone calls are shared.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Neither Jamie nor I are at work for the day. We spend it cleaning and purging from merging our belongings while completing our move into this apartment. As we wait for the AT&T technician, who is hours late to install our home internet, Jamie is doing more reminiscing than cleaning.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"><img class="gmail-size-full gmail-wp-image-119" src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2019/11/img_0137.jpg" width="4032" height="3024" style="width: 380px !important; height: 285px !important;"></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">“Babe, who else do you think I need to talk about it with?”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">“Unno."</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">"I don't know either."</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">We wait for Dr. Donato or her nurse to call back. Nobody from McDonald + Murrmann returns my call.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"><span dir="ltr">At 6:15pm</span> my cellphone rings. I am searching in the pantry when I answer, “Hello.”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">An automated voice message begins speaking, declaring, “appointment <span dir="ltr">on Thursday, July 25 at 1pm</span>,” and a notice to arrive 30 minutes early to complete paperwork before the appointment.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">There is no further information. There is no office name, no doctor’s name, no address, nothing. But in this moment I am only concerned about getting the appointment in my calendar and preoccupied with cooking dinner.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">It is <span dir="ltr">9:15pm</span>, Jamie is already in bed and half asleep. The room is lit by the television, Netflix.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">I’m getting ready for bed, tinkering between the closet, bedroom, and master bath.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">“Babe? That doctor’s appointment...it didn’t have their name on the automated voice message. I wonder who they are?"</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">He has a habit of responding in his sleep, "I'on know."</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">I sit on the edge of my side of our bed and unlock my phone. I pull up Safari that defaults to my Favorites. I go directly to Google and flip between Recents phone calls, typing in the mystery doctor appointment phone number, “9-0-1-2-2-6-4-2-8-0” then click search.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">My eyes frantically search the results of the phone number:</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"><img class="gmail-size-full gmail-wp-image-120" src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2019/11/img_0930.jpg" width="1242" height="1851" style="width: 380px !important; height: 566.328502px !important;"></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Only one word stands out, “Oncologist.”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">My eyes begin to blur. My mind is racing, like a car that is in neutral but the driver's foot is pressing the gas to the floorboard.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">"Oncologist," I know that word - it means cancer doctor. You don’t just go to an oncologist unless you have cancer. They don’t send you to an oncologist for nothing!</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">I cannot control my own body. This noise escapes from deep inside me. It's guttural. Gasping for air, I sob. My face is wet. My nose is running uncontrollably to the point that I have slugs.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">I feel Jamie’s warm hand on the small of my back, “Hey, what’s going on?”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Wiping my left palm up and across my nose I end up with a hand full of slime. I’m cupping my hand and just looking at it with blurry vision. It’s shiny in the light of television. I don’t know what to do but sit there dumbfounded.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">I try to speak, but I can’t get it out. I choke on my thoughts. I am blowing snot bubbles and trying to stifle my sobbing. But it's uncontrollable and coming so hard I can't catch my breath.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Jamie and I just got married - it hasn’t even been two months yet. I have cancer? And Jamie is stuck with a sick person? All of our ideas, plans, desires are halting. I’m sick; I don’t feel sick. I’m dumping this on him. It’s being dumped on me. We just met, fell in love, and got married in a hurry. This is all still so new.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">I understand the vows we live, “in sickness and in health." But, I’m not going to hold him back or force him to stay if he’s not in it, doesn’t want to be in it, or doesn’t want to/can’t/won’t be strong enough to go through this. It’s not fair to force Jamie into this situation. I'll let him go.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Jamie is up, leaning on his right hip and right forearm. His left arm is around my left shoulder and he is embracing and pulling me towards his chest. He is cradling me. He is warm. Jamie is always warm.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Suddenly, my mind kicks in drive, I realize I am holding a hand full of snot. I need a Kleenex. I need an entire box of Kleenexes, immediately. I try to pull away from Jamie as I slide my phone across the sheets towards him.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Through inaudible sobs I blurt, “If you want to leave me, you can.”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Jamie has adjusted himself to be sitting up without the aid of his arm. He is still holding me to his warm chest. He is so strong, his arm has me locked in place. With his right hand he picks up the phone, glances at the screen, and immediately discards it back on the sheets, like it is garbage, “Don’t be stupid, I married you for forever.”</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Gently, he turns me towards him, pulling me into his chest, and cradles my body as he lays us down. He holds on so tight there is no escaping. He consoles and caresses as I cry and blubber into his chest. With consistent repetition he traces his fingertips over my shoulder and back.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">He is comforting and reassuring. He is calming. My breathing slows.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">My head is resting on Jamie’s chest. His heartbeat is steady. His voice is mellow. The scent of soap on his skin is soothing. He is safe.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">This is how I fall sleep.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">Jamie internalizes issues. He does not sleep at all tonight.</p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-60428912008327325902023-02-02T12:23:00.001-08:002023-02-02T12:23:26.162-08:00A Noncommittal Diagnosis<p></p><p><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">July 13, 2019</span></p><p><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></p><p><span style="font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">While we wait for the pathology results I receive a thick envelope from McDonald Murmann Center for Wellness & Health. The post office’s information-based indicia is stamped December 04, 2018.</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">I had a yearly appointment on Monday, November 19, 2018.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;">I received the envelope on July 13, 2019.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"> <img class="gmail-size-full gmail-wp-image-104" src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2019/11/image.jpg" width="1261" height="706" style="margin-right: 0px; width: 380px !important; height: 212.751784px !important;"></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"> I open the envelope. Inside are seven pages printed from the website of Mayo Clinic about PCOS: Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. There is a sticky note with handwritten directions on how to take prescribed medication and a declaration to return for labs in three months.</p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"> <img class="gmail-size-full gmail-wp-image-105" src="https://aviconway.files.wordpress.com/2019/11/image-1.jpg" width="1130" height="1508" style="margin-right: 0px; width: 380px !important; height: 507.115044px !important;"><br></p><p style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 17px;"> There is nothing else in the envelope. I can only assume, this is how Dr. Donato makes diagnosis for all patients - she has McDonald Murmann send Mayo Clinic “noncommercial personal use only” photocopies without explanation, a noncommittal diagnosis, without a phone call consultation. </p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-27469972240054181672018-01-16T19:31:00.001-08:002018-01-16T19:31:56.131-08:00Snow Day!When I woke up this morning the first thing I said to my parents, "Sledding?"<br />
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So, we got dressed, went out, and took turns sledding down the hill.<br />
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As we are walking in the garage my Mom says, "When we retired we made a list of things we want to do, sledding was one of those things to do again. You don't see many men, your Dad will turn 69 this year, out sledding like your Dad did today. That's cool."<br />
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<span style="background-color: #fff9e7; color: #888888; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">#BucketlistAchievement, #RealLifeSuperman, #TheSilverFox</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-75973150046685509712017-11-06T20:14:00.001-08:002017-11-10T18:05:36.239-08:00Wind Jammer<div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The Wind Jammer is a dive bar located in a retail cul-de-sac in East Memphis. The building itself doesn't match the retail neighborhood of an upscale consignment shop and doctor's offices. The broken concrete and gravel parking lot has been filled with asphalt so many times it looks like a patchwork quilt. The slant of the drive only permits one row of parking. After hours, all other businesses in the vicinity chain their parking lots or tow to deter Wind Jammer patron parking. </span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-5OQO-DZbsV8xhY_fmNekCvwX-uB1kMY5p_Xcc-lRiInmCkdtrzsz-IJpfLakCN8FgApZ4CN8KhlPl4gONqIN6kqAnmonYgSAhiI1E0un7gQHJXXiCoc3Exf_eTVU28lZ5JtQxQLaIwC/s640/blogger-image--81048160.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-5OQO-DZbsV8xhY_fmNekCvwX-uB1kMY5p_Xcc-lRiInmCkdtrzsz-IJpfLakCN8FgApZ4CN8KhlPl4gONqIN6kqAnmonYgSAhiI1E0un7gQHJXXiCoc3Exf_eTVU28lZ5JtQxQLaIwC/s640/blogger-image--81048160.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">April 27, 2007</div><br></span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The Wind Jammer looks like it began as a one-room, wooden, lean-to shack and slowly, as more lumber could be afforded, additional sections were added. The front doesn't match the back and neither match the tilted drawl of the bathrooms on the right. Once, the bar caught on fire. Repairs to the building were made, but appeared to be haphazard, more of a precaution than to actually achieve stability. The bar has a row of dart games in the back, a sea theme, permits indoor smoking, and is home to the best karaoke in Memphis. </span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtZR-PESNbTVR5mSbR68c8Y9R-AkPP6siTpkRNJvh8lLFE_mNjGxDNqhnP0WOxD-wGDepeXcoVkUWuLlu5R1-2aAvZmz62Pv9MTsVcjv5AEJYV4lH3BEjNThzq-DxYYG0ynVtC4y8DZYz/s640/blogger-image-105623115.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirtZR-PESNbTVR5mSbR68c8Y9R-AkPP6siTpkRNJvh8lLFE_mNjGxDNqhnP0WOxD-wGDepeXcoVkUWuLlu5R1-2aAvZmz62Pv9MTsVcjv5AEJYV4lH3BEjNThzq-DxYYG0ynVtC4y8DZYz/s640/blogger-image-105623115.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Bachelorette Party, April 27, 2007</div><br></span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Miss Ruthell is the 84 year old woman with bright red hair that owns the place. She been there every time I have. When the music is playing loud she can decipher every detail of your drink order. She's behind the bar, popping the tops off of bottles, filling up pitchers, and serving-up deep friend chicken tenders with thick-cut french fries. Each drink she hands you is accompanied by a napkin and a pet name that she gives you on the spot. </span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7kMDPr-sS9870Efs7YSd9EmBfV9HUNqO0gICRzeCJYPaoTu6GuC4zeY-TOLhKM1N3871K95i0W0royzcHlzgRTzAhzr3u7-7ipcWyld6ye9e3VOntZwAW3pIgBSQFm3nZiObM0cANx5im/s640/blogger-image-272005171.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7kMDPr-sS9870Efs7YSd9EmBfV9HUNqO0gICRzeCJYPaoTu6GuC4zeY-TOLhKM1N3871K95i0W0royzcHlzgRTzAhzr3u7-7ipcWyld6ye9e3VOntZwAW3pIgBSQFm3nZiObM0cANx5im/s640/blogger-image-272005171.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">In the corner booth, Feb 21, 2010.</div><br></span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The Wind Jammer is the type of place you run into someone you haven't seen in years. The bar holds so many memories for me: singing with an ex, laughing hysterically with college friends, meeting the faux Senator Cohen, the Magnum P.I. impersonator, dates in the front corner booth, and accidentally kidnapping a drunk lady...</span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The night was just weird. As I was getting into bed late one Friday night in 2005 or 2006, Trey & Donna called me to meet them at The Wind Jammer. It was nearly 10pm, but the laughter and music was enticing and Donna said she'd need me to be the designated driver. I put my work clothes back on and headed into Memphis. On my way I get stopped on Highway 14 by the Sheriff's Department. I was listening to classical music like it was a deafening rock concert. When I rolled down the window the officer asked me where I was going in such a hurry, "I'm sorry Sir, my brother just called me and asked me to be his D.D. I'm going to The Wind Jammer to pick him up and take him home." </span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I was let off with a warning. </span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Many of y'all know that I don't drink and drive - I was hit by a drunk driver who was also hopped-up on pills on January 4, 2001. This night is no different, I sat with Trey & Donna, Chris and some other people I'd never met, drinking my Diet Coke. At closing time, very early on Saturday morning, I walk, completely sober, to my car. We are taking the party to Trey's apartment. One of the extremely drunk girls sitting at the table with us got up, followed me to my car, opened the car door, and sat in my front passengers seat. We headed to Cordova. Trey and Donna needed to stop for gas. As I pull up next to them, with the stranger in my car, Donna turns to make silly faces. Donna sees drunk chicky and her face turns to absolute horror and a hundred questions cross her between her eyes. </span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">A few minutes after we get to Trey's apartment the drunk chick passes out on his sofa. That is when I learn that nobody knows her. They don't know her name or how she got to the Wind Jammer, something about how she's visiting a friend in town and went to The Jammer. I explain to them that don't know her either. She just got in my car so I thought she belonged to them.</span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">We go into her purse to figure out her identity. There's multiple ID's all with her face on them, all have different names and are from out of state. There is no money and only one credit card in her wallet - not in any of her other names. Her cellphone does not have any stored numbers in it, only a previous call list. Someone at the apartment calls the phone number with the 662 area code. They get an address. </span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">About this time I figure that I have already done enough damage. With an Irish Goodbye I vacate Trey's apartment, leaving everyone there to deal with the drunk stranger. </span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I learned the next day that they put her in a cab, gave the cabbie her only credit card and the address of the 662 number. Nobody has ever seen her again. </span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">That's par for the course at The Jammer. You never know who will be there, except Miss Ruthell - she's always there, what you will see, or what will happen. I guess I'll have to hit-up the Jammer and attempt to sing once more for old times sake. </span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">#WindJammer </span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">http://m.wmcactionnews5.com/story/36777462/windjammer-closing-for-good-on-nov-25</span></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-72381513541705068542017-10-18T18:22:00.001-07:002017-10-18T18:22:01.778-07:00Sports Brawl<div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div>#TheSilverFox</div><div>.</div><div>.</div><div>.</div><div>.</div><div>.</div><div>.</div><div>.</div><div>.</div><div>.</div><div>.</div><div>.</div><div>.</div><div>.</div><div>.</div><div>She's been exercising religiously and I've been bugging her to get a sports bra. "I don't need one, my breasts aren't large." </div><div><br></div><div>I warn her, "If you continue to run without one you're only going to have to flash a kneecap to earn some beads."</div><div><br></div><div>We went to Walmart on our vacation. She says she $7 for the Walmart clearance sports bra is too much. She's frugal. I tell her not to worry about it. I have some Nike and brand new Fabletics sports bras in my drawer at home she can have. </div><div><br></div><div>When I come home from work today she is dancing to her exercise DVD in front of the television in the living room. The TV also happens to be directly infront of the giant picture window and front door with a sidelight window. She's gyrating like Ann Margret in the hottest dance scene of "Viva Las Vegas." </div><div><br></div><div><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">She is only wearing a bra and panties. </span></div><div><br></div><div>I tell her, "I'll take a picture of you." </div><div><br></div><div>She replies, "Nobody will believe you."</div><div><br></div><div>She comes into my bedroom, sweaty from her DVD, "How do you take off a sports bra when you're sweaty?"</div><div><br></div><div>"That's the joke about exercise," I twist and contort my arms and look like a dog chasing her own tail, "It's a sports brawl!"</div><div><br></div><div>I pull the sports bras out of my drawer. She struggles into one, putting it on backwards and walks down the hallway. The sports bra is only a holster, everything supposed to be in is out. "Hey Paulie," she opens the door to the <span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">spare bedroom where they keep their computer.</span>, "Averill gave me this sports bra, what do you think?" </div><div><br></div><div><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">"Geez! I'm putting this on the Internet."</span></div><div><br></div><div>"How much do I owe you?"</div><div><br></div><div>"Nothing, looks like I got a free show."</div><div><br></div><div>"Nobody will believe you."</div><div><br></div><div>That's my Mom. </div><div>#GrownFolksBusiness</div><div><br></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-59085108877067633382017-08-31T17:34:00.001-07:002017-09-05T15:50:24.025-07:00RealLifeSuperman Delivers<span style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">The cellphone rings. It's my Dad. </span><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">#RealLifeSuperman "A-vo!"</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">"Hey, Daddy!"</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">We just got off the phone twenty minutes ago.</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">"Have you eaten dinner? You're Mom made pulled pork. There's a lot of it."</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">"Nope. Not yet," it's only 5:55pm. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">"Do you want some of this pulled pork?" #TheSilverFox yells something inaudible from the background. "How many people are at the house?"</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I decided to stop at Jeff's instead of braving the flooded roads in north Shelby County.</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">"Daddy, it's just me right now, but Jeff will be home. Nick will be home. Melodie won't eat meat. But I don't need you coming back out. You're gonna break Mom's 'only leave the house once-a-day rule.'"</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">My Dad will leave in and out of the house all day to run errands. If he needs a specific car part he'll run to Auto Zone. He'll come back home. Then he'll make another trip to get tomatoes. He'll come back home. He'll leave again to run to Lowe's or Home Depot. My Mom only likes to combine trips; out for errands and then home to read or exercise. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">"We've already broken her rule," he chuckles because he knows he's gotten away with and she's given in to multiple trips, "and we've both been out of the house twice today runnin' around. Karen?" he yells in my ear. It's unusual that he uses her real name. He usually calls her 'Boog,' as in short for Booger. Quieter, he asks, "Go or not?" </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">She yells something else inaudible from across the kitchen, sounding like an adult from Peanuts cartoons.</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">"Who's gonna eat all of this pulled pork if y'all don't take it?"</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">"And there is wild rain, and crazy drivers, and flooding, and y'all don't need to be out in it..."</span></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">"I'll see you in a few minutes," he abruptly hangs up. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Forty-nine minutes later, my parents arrive at Jeff's front door with an entire BBQ pulled pork dinner including Hawaiian Sweet Rolls. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTwMTpou3vn06e0IXjAysP8-R9yaf6LMHv7uz7uZyVDGKYssX5kQbzPz73TFmzg57t4gNis5WbMveobUPcjq7qw6szWCSVFHuBU15EzUIRmRW0-xm7tyc0Va5722rRTckRyj6dgMbhsYv/s640/blogger-image-725787064.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVTwMTpou3vn06e0IXjAysP8-R9yaf6LMHv7uz7uZyVDGKYssX5kQbzPz73TFmzg57t4gNis5WbMveobUPcjq7qw6szWCSVFHuBU15EzUIRmRW0-xm7tyc0Va5722rRTckRyj6dgMbhsYv/s640/blogger-image-725787064.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-72105618680124109902017-08-16T20:10:00.001-07:002017-08-16T20:10:52.812-07:00Wigging Out<div>After work I am walking around Dollar Tree on Highland at Poplar in the Kroger shopping center. I have two arms full of party products, literal arms full. I can't see the floor because I refuse to push a basket in Dollar Tree. </div><div><br></div><div>As I walk down the toy aisle I feel it. The hair of an animal rubs against my left leg, crawls on my foot, and captures my bare toes like seaweed in the surf. The hair feels mangy and matted. I can't see it. I scream, "Oh MY GOD, it's on ME!!! SOMEONE HELP ME!!!!" </div><div><br></div><div>Two women in the aisle stop to watch me, one of them pauses her blue tooth phone conversation. Another woman from an aisle over abandons her buggy to come to my rescue. </div><div><br></div><div>In a complete panic I step wildly to untangled my foot from a rogue, wild-ass animal, in the middle of a toy aisle, in a chain store, in an urban oasis. I hop, dance, and gyrate far enough away from the hair touching my foot to see it. </div><div><br></div><div>"Did you want me to pick up your wig?" asks the second lady watching me in the toy aisle. </div><div><br></div><div>I look down at it. There it is, a harmless mangled mass of a headband attached to orange plastic-hair, princess extensions.</div><div><br></div><div>The lady who abandoned her cart is laughing, "It got you good!" as she walks back to her basket. </div><div><br></div><div>#ConfidentlyAwesome #ImNotAnAnimalPerson #SeverelyAllergicToAnimals #IDontLikeSeaweedEither #UnwarrantedBreakdown #AtLeastICanLaughAtMyIdiocy </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-12264796118143815362017-02-05T10:29:00.001-08:002017-02-05T10:29:04.748-08:00Say Anything<div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">When #TheSilverFox found out I put their Groundhog's Day photo on the internet she told me, "Take my face off that damn internet!"</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">She laughed when I told her that I get more comments and responses for stories I tell about my parents than I do for myself. She likes the attention, she tells people to follow my blog about her. (It's just a neglected blog about my life). </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I told her if she doesn't do anything else outrageous this week I'll tell that doozie of a story from January 2nd of this year. She threatened, "Do it! I'm old enough to say what I want and don't care."</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">So here it goes! </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">We spent the day shopping, #RealLifeSuperman chauffeuring us around Cordova. We were on a mission for her to find the perfect comforter, in the perfect colors, with the perfect pattern, with the perfect quilting design, with absolutely no idea of what the check boxes to perfection contained. This is my Mom in a nut shell, on the search for perfection, but she knows it when she sees it. Just like when she spotted my Dad for the first time. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I was standing in line at Marshall's to make a $.70 clearance purchase when Dad walks up and says, "Don't worry about it, I'll pay. You go walk with your mother and make sure she doesn't get into trouble."</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Foreshadowing is always subtle when it happens in real life. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I give him my Valentine's garland and run after Mom, who is well on the way to Stein Mart. It is raining as we walk under the outdoor mall's portico's. Before is there is a Kroger Employee standing next to their sliding doors. She is smoking. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">The Silver Fox quips to the Kroger Employee, "I thought the law was no smoking within 50 feet of a public entrance."</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">The Kroger Employee responded something inaudible and half under her breath. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">My Mom turns to the Kroger Employee and yells, "FUCK YOU!!!"</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">We are only two days into the new year and not only is she dropping F's and U's, but it's a verbal altercation with a complete stranger. And, Dad just told me to make sure she didn't get into any trouble. Here I am failing. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I text both of my brothers, Trey rarely if ever responds. Blaise is gung-ho for it. He completely agrees with her.</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">The Silver Fox is a loose cannon! At this point I don't know what she is capable of saying or doing. I stay quiet and scarce. I see Dad 15 minutes later, he's sitting in the furniture section of Home Goods while waiting on us. I tell him the story. He just shrugs his shoulders, "You know how she is."</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">No help.</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">There is a rainbow across the sky, as we get into the car, I take it as my sign to say something, "Hey Mom, do you often get into verbal altercations with strangers on the second day of the year?"</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">She thinks it is hysterical, "Well, she was smoking in an undesignated area. You are extremely allergic to smoke. And, I've finally reached that old lady age where I don't care what I say and I can say anything."</div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">Happy birthday Silver Fox! Cheers to being the age to say whatever you want, plus one. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; font-size: 15px; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">#OneMoreYearOfPersnickityDown #ManyMoreToGo #ISignedHerBirthdayCardWithPostItsSoSheCouldReuseIt</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-85253546913295047002016-09-25T20:47:00.001-07:002016-09-25T20:47:19.830-07:00Eric Hughes Band Indigogo<div>When my youngest brother, Blaise, was stationed overseas, in the Middle East and Africa, he was missing and craving a little bit of home. Blaise asked me to send him some Memphis Music. Specifically, he asked me to send him all of The Eric Hughes Band CDs that I could get my hands on. </div><div><br></div><div>When Mr. Eric heard of this he donated all of his previous CDs to my brother, who is also his brother in arms (USMC). Every time I think about this I get choked up; I am forever grateful to Mr. Eric. </div><div><br></div><div>As a token of appreciation, for the love of #MemphisBlues, and to support for Mr Eric et al I am donating to The Eric Hughes Band Indiegogo campaign. If you feel so inclined, here is the link: </div><div><br></div><div>https://www.indiegogo.com/projects/new-album-la-bluesicana#/</div><div><br></div><div>#MemphisMusic #BluesMusic #EricHughesBand #MemphisFamous</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-62086676468841237322016-09-13T19:19:00.001-07:002016-09-13T19:19:27.903-07:00Oh My God, Averill! Your Legs!!<div>This morning, with her back turned toward me a coworker was talking to her supervisor. Just as I stood-up to walk away from my cubicle she turns to face me and exclaims, "Oh My GOD, AVERILL! YOUR LEGS!!"</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUrsmtwE84xdP52USUJk9xWbWuD52q-rDLTOiDKSn1dVU4__lRfRcyQkE_oNmjh4ubZIyqgN8gCfcQziG1CyQ-EEkxdU6QC-BiBuUsCX9nZv3lyeM-AtlLwZ8N09DyPkerdNySyKFjEUUa/s640/blogger-image--1204229416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUrsmtwE84xdP52USUJk9xWbWuD52q-rDLTOiDKSn1dVU4__lRfRcyQkE_oNmjh4ubZIyqgN8gCfcQziG1CyQ-EEkxdU6QC-BiBuUsCX9nZv3lyeM-AtlLwZ8N09DyPkerdNySyKFjEUUa/s640/blogger-image--1204229416.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Now, I know this coworker. She is always making slick, unnecessary comments about my work clothes and my lunch-break exercise clothes. She usually turns me in to her supervisor for my clothing. Her supervisor goes and tells it to my supervisor. Then, I get told my skirts are too short. I am not Bridget Jones; I did not forget my skirt. </div><div><br></div><div>So, when this coworker makes her comment, I know she is about to tell on me because she thinks my mini-dress is too short. </div><div><br></div><div>However, this morning I was on the ball. I knew it was coming. I immediately responded to her, "Oh my gosh!" A smile naturally spreads across my entire face, "Thank you so much for noticing all of the hard work I've been putting into my exercise." </div><div><br></div><div>I walk away. </div><div><br></div><div>#MicDrop #HighFiveBitches #ThoseLegsThough #ConfidentlyAwesome #ExerciseMotivation #ICan</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XmZFBuvtHpuXKbNkf_WHc8A0f6SdCdAB6RoB5JSQ76b8-jMLXki8tbwOdWfg8bu8x3uAVPmcHmM0YURrWtjjNj9iAg3LC9ABcPXfoy_0wthYB39enWagcSAii3qchXL8X-ZUPRc5v9ZT/s640/blogger-image-153222542.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XmZFBuvtHpuXKbNkf_WHc8A0f6SdCdAB6RoB5JSQ76b8-jMLXki8tbwOdWfg8bu8x3uAVPmcHmM0YURrWtjjNj9iAg3LC9ABcPXfoy_0wthYB39enWagcSAii3qchXL8X-ZUPRc5v9ZT/s640/blogger-image-153222542.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-64646394486971203392016-09-12T21:30:00.001-07:002016-09-12T21:30:05.297-07:00Crazy Like That<div>Y'all, my parents!!! These two are crazy!!! </div><div><br></div><div>With a couple of stops, I got home from work and class at 9:30pm. </div><div><br></div><div>I packmule my body with all of the stuff from my car, struggling to get it all strapped to myself in one trip. I let myself into the garage. </div><div><br></div><div>There, parked in the dark garage, inside the car, the doors and windows closed, with the glow from the car radio illuminating them, are my parents. </div><div><br></div><div>#TheSilverFox says, "We were neckin'. Glad he got his pants back on before you walked in the door."</div><div><br></div><div>"Uh-huh," #RealLifeSuperman chuckles, "Not likely. We were finishing our book on tape."</div><div><br></div><div>These two have a stereo! These two have an entire house to sit together to finish their #BookOnTape!! But, they choose to sit in the car together like a couple of teenagers in love! </div><div><br></div><div>A few months ago, he accompanied her to a doctor's appointment. The doctor asks them, "How long have you been together?"</div><div><br></div><div>My Dad is the first to respond, "Thirty-nine years of marriage, plus four years of dating - not nearly enough time yet." </div><div><br></div><div>#NotNearlyEnoughTime #CrazyLikeThat</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-79786833637012889202016-08-22T20:54:00.001-07:002016-08-22T20:54:54.527-07:00I Rescind It, Again<div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">just walked through the door at home. That woman I call my mother </span><a class="_5ayv" href="https://m.facebook.com/hashtag/thesilverfox?_ft_=top_level_post_id.10157426096230599%3Atl_objid.10157426096230599%3Athid.829440598" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"><span class="_5aw4">#</span><span class="_5ayu">TheSilverFox</span></a><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> greets me from her Lazy Boy, "Hey. What are you doing?"</span></div></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">"I just came home from the music video shoot."<br>"Oh, yeah," she says like she forgot.<br>"Wanna see what I wore?"<br>"Yeah."<br>I walk into the living room.<br>"You ONLY wore that top?"<br>"You said it was a dress! You said it was a cute dress!"<br>"It's a top! A top!"<br>"Mom, it's a dress! I wore more clothes than the rest of the girls in the video."</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzziJSzVV36N9KJZkQ_8hJkcbDn2UZNBEgYKF0bFZj2URgH9cbefCsa8i57bcS4twi4odMepyTsUE2HAUu39gWuHtBcyMGGDCA7Jpr7XNpjZ9Sa4us6rv8o55TUEY-Ync4AIheRKFD6Hgs/s640/blogger-image-718740666.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzziJSzVV36N9KJZkQ_8hJkcbDn2UZNBEgYKF0bFZj2URgH9cbefCsa8i57bcS4twi4odMepyTsUE2HAUu39gWuHtBcyMGGDCA7Jpr7XNpjZ9Sa4us6rv8o55TUEY-Ync4AIheRKFD6Hgs/s640/blogger-image-718740666.jpg"></a></div>Compared to the other video chicks, I'm dressed for church! At the very least, my dress is appropriate for engagement photos in a field. When the Dulaa, the rap artist said to me, "asking everyone to wear western style attire" my mind went Faith Hill "Breathe" not Daisy Duke. I'll know better for next time. </span></div><div class="msg"><div data-store="{"timestamp":1471646692015,"author":100001623102560,"uuid":"mid.1471646692014:c46594e6d56f2b9443"}" data-sigil="message-text"><div class="messageAttachments"></div></div><span data-sigil="message-body" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br>She huffs, "What else did you do today?"<br>"I had my first class tonight."<br>"You DIDN'T wear THAT to class did you?"<br>"No, don't worry. I wore something much sluttier."</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">#CountryGirlStyle #ModestlyAwesome #ConfidentlyAwesome</span></div><br></span></div><div><br></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-68582286653100856302016-08-22T20:25:00.003-07:002016-08-22T20:27:51.717-07:00I Take It Back<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI-r638sWFxsUCgcVC7PmuUPSbdCYVw805uUe10IGu5UhokjXkvzshA_j-pEp-UeVlHWbCLbXdInoHLNSiG12lIB2LTbmgOL0vsM9StK6P0wOvrFbh-QLKs-2ikL_GKMWStfUe4FZKODP2/s640/blogger-image--1637154500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI-r638sWFxsUCgcVC7PmuUPSbdCYVw805uUe10IGu5UhokjXkvzshA_j-pEp-UeVlHWbCLbXdInoHLNSiG12lIB2LTbmgOL0vsM9StK6P0wOvrFbh-QLKs-2ikL_GKMWStfUe4FZKODP2/s640/blogger-image--1637154500.jpg"></a></div>I take it all back what I said. #TheSilverFox picked out the perfect dress for my very first #CountryMusicRapVideo with Dulaa & Nancy Apple </div><div><br></div><div>#ConfidentlyAwesome #RapVideoDanceChick #MemphisMusic</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-84562350888850541892016-08-22T20:08:00.001-07:002016-08-22T20:26:52.931-07:00Do Not Trust The Silver Fox<div>Three reasons why I do not trust #TheSilverFox:</div><div><br></div><div>1. There was no full-length mirror when I tried on this dress and she put on the sales tactics. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijIV6JxjDXGr0N-sTsdixdDlI3HXUrTqcT_C0MwexPk9RjHi2xMIJXJgOycxcqoWcQqtPnrGb52ZkxKuEXqc4gNMHw7zj_SV7cNVgA8zHmw60Xae_PnAi16iC6dfNm056N03RPe_9LrHC9/s640/blogger-image--1080835704.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijIV6JxjDXGr0N-sTsdixdDlI3HXUrTqcT_C0MwexPk9RjHi2xMIJXJgOycxcqoWcQqtPnrGb52ZkxKuEXqc4gNMHw7zj_SV7cNVgA8zHmw60Xae_PnAi16iC6dfNm056N03RPe_9LrHC9/s640/blogger-image--1080835704.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>2. I asked her if it was see-through. She said, "No! Just wear some type of slip. It's so cute!! You have to get it!!! You'll regret it if you don't!!" </div><div><br></div><div>This dress is 153% opac! You can see my insides!!! I'm wearing some sort of Bridget Jones underclothing contraption and it's hot!! </div><div><br></div><div>3. "Mom, what about the length? Is is too short?"</div><div><br></div><div>"No! Put your arms down. It's perfect. The skirt is longer than your arms."</div><div><br></div><div>Mom did not take into consideration that I have T-Rex length arms. If I dance in this dress....well, I'll just quote Jeff on this one, "You gotta shave to wear that dress, and I'm not saying you'll have to shave your legs."</div><div><br></div><div>#DontTrustTheSilverFox #GoodThingIm78PercentLegs</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1783316099107681132.post-43865538286393109602016-07-23T08:56:00.001-07:002016-07-23T08:56:14.229-07:00Walk A Mile In My Shoes<div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4tB5f9gQfytaU6q8hhqO4UDEnQ8pXlLCIx-EJAZ2CWu_47VxRmpuLIs3QDi1P4pb9nYiBNNtvcoinDYI2wZqphv8adWC0K0KalOzsC7MBzgJsPzOArTrWxUrpAMCRYCZWOzSpSlimdV5b/s640/blogger-image-858074787.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4tB5f9gQfytaU6q8hhqO4UDEnQ8pXlLCIx-EJAZ2CWu_47VxRmpuLIs3QDi1P4pb9nYiBNNtvcoinDYI2wZqphv8adWC0K0KalOzsC7MBzgJsPzOArTrWxUrpAMCRYCZWOzSpSlimdV5b/s640/blogger-image-858074787.jpg"></a></div>I'm really bad about holding on to memories through objects. Like these pairs of shoes from the back of my closet. The white ones were the pair I wore to graduate high school. Yeah, they were incredibly stylish then. Like, Wow! For real! The black, Sam & Libby Mary Janes were my absolute favorite pair of shoes from Junior through Senior year of high school. Have I worn them since? Yeah, but probably only as part of Halloween costumes. Why do I have them now? They both look awful, dated, old, used. It's just silly to keep them. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">The memories that go along with these shoes are vibrant, fun, exciting. I remember them new. Those memories represent unending possibility, a life to live, and experience to gather. Those shoes were the first time in my life that I feel like me. In high school I was fat, yeah then too. I couldn't wear the fashions in style: knee socks wouldn't fit over my muscular calves - but that didn't stop me from trying, Guess, Express, and Mud jeans didn't come in sizes that fit over my hips and around my stomach. I mostly wore men's clothing, <span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">and tight turtle necks to accentuate the chest,</span> because I thought that's all that fit. That was me. But, shoes always fit. When I strutted the hallways in these platforms I felt in command, even stylish. That's saying a lot for the chick that wore stonewashed, green, cut-off, jean shorts. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">I still have those memories; I definitely have the experiences. The shoes have seen miles, but it's time for me to let go of these sentimental relics of my past. </div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"><br></div><div style="color: rgb(69, 69, 69); font-family: UICTFontTextStyleBody; text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;">#WalkAMileInMyShoes #DiaryOfAFatGirlThatNeverGrewUp #ConfidentlyAwesome #ThoseShoesAreOldEnoughToBeRetro</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04811857213564049916noreply@blogger.com0