For any new readers, super forgetful readers, or readers that stepped away from G-Reader for more than 3 hours and had to “mark all as read” because the overwhelming “All Items (xx)” was stressing you out – here’s a quick update :
I have skin cancer. It was caught early, and I’m not dying. The End.
(but really you can read about it here)
When I first got the news, I decided I wanted everything done and taken care of before the wedding (July 3rd). Yeah these next few weeks are pretty hectic already, but I didn’t want a pending surgery and “Oh, the cancer? Yeah, it’s still there…” hanging over my head during the happiest day of my life.
So I called the only office that accepts my stupid based-in-Ohio health insurance, and begged and pleaded for them to squeeze me in.
(I’m not too proud to throw out the Poor Bride card now and again…)
My dermatologist referred me to plastics because young skin scars much easier than old skin I guess. (side note : ask me 5 years ago if I’d ever be in a plastic surgeon’s office in Orange County. Life is funny…)
So the consult was today. Doc glanced at my boo-boos, scolded me for my “tan” (presumably the faint bikini line where “albino” goes to “just very white”), and then started to walk out to put me on the surgery schedule.
“Oh, and no exercise for a few weeks afterwards…”
Ok, everybody relax. I’m not dumb enough to put my health in the backseat just for a stupid local race (that half in Ohio June 26th).
And I can’t even say the risk of not fitting into my dress because I went all fat & exercise-free the final weeks leading up to the big day is what threw up the stop sign.
The deal breaker was : I can’t give up my main stress reliever & endorphin source during this crazy ass time. I would have gone absolutely BAT SHIT. I’m already forcing people to uninvite dates and emailing the shit out of my vendors – I don’t need any more help in the Bride Monster game, and taking away my sweat time would put us all on a fast track course straight to Wedding Hell.
So we scheduled surg for July 13th. Exactly a month from today. Nothing will change between now and then. Non-metastasizing, silly little baby cancer. It’ll all be gone when we get back. Bonus : First surgery as a married! Life events, people. Better get the scrapbook out…
I’m accepting applications for at-hope-nurses/slaves to fetch me things and read me stories during my recovery. And a tough-love friend to keep me out of the cupcakes while on this looming exercise ban.
Fat but cancer-free doesn’t sound that bad, though…