sgorny | To quote luceononuro....

Please, God, whatever voodoo deity I upset to make things this screwy, please, please let them forgive me!

Went for the surgical consult. Or, for what I thought was to "discuss my options".

Turns out my options are surgery soon or sooner. No other options there.

Called the hospital to see if I could move my biopsy up. I can't, but it's a good thing I called - because they had "scheduled me in the wrong room, and couldn't do the procedure that day." The earliest they can do it? June 9th. So I have to tell work about my problem - which I wanted to avoid if at all possible.

I asked the surgeon when I needed to schedule the surgery. His answer? "Well, at least after the biopsy." I have a full work schedule until the end of June, my sisters engagement party at the end of June, and then I'm working intermittently for other docs 3 days/week until the end of July.

So I scheduled the surgery for the first week in August, pending the outcome of the biopsy. I also called the doctors I'm supposed to be working for, and told them that I might need to cancel if my surgery has to be moved up.

So now pretty much everyone knows. It used to just be my LJ friends. I don't know how I feel about everyone knowing, and worry that it might affect my job prospects.

But I guess that's just deflecting my main concern - namely, the likelihood of death.

I mean, I know we all die. From the smallest bug to the biggest bristlecone pine, we all have our time.

I just expected longer than most. I mean, I do drink a bit, so that takes a little off your life. Don't smoke cigarettes, so that's a plus. Am overweight, so another minus.

But my family has a history of living a long time (the women, at least). My maternal grandmother lived to be 96, her great aunt to be 104, and my mother is now 70. My paternal grandmother lived to be 90, although her last few years weren't very good. The men... well, they don't last as long. My maternal grandfather was 75, and my paternal grandfather was 72. My dad is already 73, but is slightly poor health. But he was an exercise nut who also loved to drink. So...

Maybe this is nothing.

Maybe I'll be fine.

And maybe my sister-in-law will return someone's call to let us know what is happening with her, and maybe my computer will be recoverable, and maybe...

Maybe...

...

ETA: I realize that my posts have gotten rather morbid of late, with my obsession on my physical health. And I know that can be boring to many people. So I'll try to limit those posts as much as possible, but sometimes I just need to get stuff off my chest.