After my doctor left a message today about my “abnormal” Pap results, I called back thinking it was probably nothing and found out it actually probably is something and they just need to now find out how bad that something — whatever it is — is. But it could mean anything from watching & waiting to cutting out a small part of my body to removing internal organs to which I’ve actually grown attached over the years.
I am so annoyed by everyone today — just being in the same room with the boys made me think I should send W. to military school and B. to live with his dad, so then I could take a nice long bath and find some non-painful way to accidentally and tragically die so they could get my life insurance money. (And it doesn’t help that I’m still in a great deal of back pain…)
And then I met up with V. for dinner before the Tori Amos show and she reminded me that it will be a year on Wednesday that a super-close friend of hers died from ovarian cancer and how she now has this cyst on her ovary that is causing problems and it’s the type that often (usually?) turns cancerous at some point. And it makes no sense at all, but this overwhelming sense of dread rushed over me as I started thinking about how we’re at the age where our main medical complaints aren’t just UTIs or yeast infections or rug burns from having too much rough sex — we’re dealing with things that are really fucking scary.
The dread — which has not left me — was from the realization that at some point, these women I love — the ones who helped me through brain surgery and held my hand through painful breakups and invite me over to their homes when my son gets caught shoplifting and I want to get blitzed — are going to die. We are going to face horrible and scary and painful illnesses, and we are going to lose each other. And the only thing I can think of tonight is how much that really, really sucks.