Keeping It Real

My mother called last night; a relatively rare event. It's not that my mother doesn't love me - she just has her own issues that pre-occupy her somewhat. Or a lot. Whatever.

Anyhow, she called because the Grand Republican Matriarch (aka My Grandmother), had called her the night prior, asking about tomorrow's surgery. I asked how the hell GRM found out and mom said that GRM reads this blog regularly! I had no idea and became slightly flushed remembering the brazen information GRM's loyal readership has exposed her to. Oral sex and masturbation and constant, relentless hatred for Bush... Who knew?

The larger point is GRM feels I am emotionally lacking over here. Not exactly how she put it - but that's the nutshell. GRM is certain I express irreverence on subjects she knows affect me more deeply than my sarcasm suggests. Although Republican, she has a point. This blog has always been the place to joke about things that actually really get to me, like work stuff, health matters, and unlucky blackjack hands.

So, here is one post, for GRM, where I will keep this shit real. It's a good day for this, because I am in pain, anxious like a worry-wart in xanax withdrawals and a little freaked out about tomorrow.

Here's why:

1) Suppose this procedure yields evidence of reproductive deformity and consequent inability, which I acknowledge and have been informed is a possibility. I thought I was finished breeding until learning that I might have this option taken from me soon. I'm sad. I don't feel like a very good woman. I know that is ridiculous. But if you can't breed, what's the point of having to deal with the physical bullshit women endure just so they can keep population numbers up? I have Daughter, and she makes it clear that I am good at making smooth offspring. People see my stellar contribution to evolutionary superiority and it makes them want to breed. Will Boyfriend still want eternity with me if I can't reproduce? He says of course, that's ridiculous, we'll adopt - it's my health that matters. I believe him, but wonder if that's easier to say when you're a twenty-something? Same with my up-until-now thoughts on having another child. Here I am in this great relationship with a man I daydream about when he's not around, and for the first time find myself wondering whether it might be nice if we had another child - and that this time we could be together the whole time and we wouldn't have to worry about custody or trading or child support or anything but doing it together from day one. Part of me wants to know what that feels like. One of the first times I went to see a OB-GYN about all this I ended up in the wrong office. An office full of pregnant girls and girls with little babies. I was devastated. It's like being kicked out of a club. Or at least up for review and not feeling confident about the process. I want to comment about how being barren would, on the other hand, bode well career-wise. But really, that's not a positive enough trade off to make mention of in an otherwise serious post.

2) Suppose the biopsy comes back with something really bad. Like, cancerous bad? I can't even think of how I would handle such things. So I don't. I look at the numbers and recognize that the probability of this being something that severe are low, particularly given my age. So I tell myself that thinking about cancer is like some idiot who buys lottery tickets every week - an exercise in futile self-abuse that results when people are really bad at understanding math. Fingers crossed, please, please, please.... no cancer.

3) Suppose someone fucks up really bad and I don't even wake up? I've never had surgery before, never been put under. And that freaks me out. That's a lot of control and faith that needs to be put in other people to let your body be cut open while you're incapable of giving any direction. It's a relinquishment of control and I don't like relinquishing control. When you think like this, you start to think of all the things you feel are incomplete, or still to come in your life. I am 26, Daughter is 9. I have an endless list of those things. I just started my career, reunited with my soulmate and am realizing that Daughter will be a grown up before I know it. My list is too long for these thoughts. My holographic will is stored in my closet in an envelope. Just in case. End line of thiking.

4) One of the firm's clients died yesterday. He had end-stage cancer that was not diagnosed until years and years too late. His doctors dropped the ball and now he is dead. His wife called the office to tell us. She is my age and a widow now. This put my issues into serious perspective. Before he passed, he thanked his wife for taking care of him throughout his illness, for loving him and for all she will do in the future to raise their daughters without him. He told her that he loved her. Then he died. I went home and kissed Boyfriend and found myself staring at Daughter with gratitude. Then I found myself in fear. See #2 above.

So there it is. Not as fun, huh?

I'll almost certainly be back to sarcasm in a few days, when I'm all loopy from the post-op meds. Good times.