1. The list of finalists for the Share the Love blog awards has been posted and sadly, my humble blog is not among them. Shed a tear if you must, but then head on over and vote for my friends Scribbit, Owlhaven, and What on Earth is that Smell who are still in the running.
2. After yesterday’s post, I feel the need to clarify something. I wasn’t really adopted. (I know this because sometimes I glimpse in the mirror and think, “Hey what is my mother doing in my bathroom!”) I love my weird family. I aspire to their level of weirdness. And the fact that the Shopping List is now (and I hope forever) in my possession tells you I cherish our memories of weirdosity.
Oh, and also, while my sisters and I didn’t always get along, the only hair pulling I honestly remember was between me and my brother Steve. I just didn’t think that would be nice to mention, it being his birthday and all.
3. I have a goiter.
Seriously.
It doesn’t look like this (link not for the squeamish) but it does feel like a huge golf ball in my neck. It is probably just a swollen lymph node and I get this from time to time. But last night when I got home from class and was already feeling sorry for myself because I looked like Rubens’ painting of Marie de Medici
(see image at right), I sat down to read some blogs and wound up reading some old posts written by a good friend about her experience with radiation therapy for a tumor in her throat. (I am so sorry Sandra. I had no idea you went through all that).Then I panicked. Ken is used to me going all hypochondriac on him, so when I put my Humanities degrees to good use, did some online research and diagnosed myself with a list of new and frightening ailments, he tactfully suggested I was unlikely to die of Tuberculosis, Sarcoidosis, Toxoplasmosis, Secondary Syphilis, Yaws or Cat Scratch Fever.
Thus it must be a goiter. I am resigned to my fate.
Ken remains unconcerned. I feel the need to steal a line from my Great Great Great Grandmother Dixon - the line she apparently said so frequently to her children that they carved it on her tombstone:
“You’ll miss me when I’m gone.”
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12 comments:
Sorry to give you a new source for hypochondric fears. That isn't what I meant to do. I've had two relatives with neck goiters, both are alive and well although one did require surgery. I do recommend seeing a doctor if it concerns you.
While I'd agree you can likely scratch most of those frightening ailments off your roll, I've seen some interesting angles in pitches for Yaws.
A Humanities degree trumps pre-med every time.
1. Although your humble blog might not have made it to the finals, I still think it is brilliant!
2. Weird families are wonderful ... I know, I am part of one.
3. I hope you feel better soon. It is amazing how quickly we can diagnose ourselves with fatal diseases.
It's a funny thing. When I was in my 20's I had diagnosed myself with every disease I learned about. Now in my 40's I find myself doing the exact opposite, "Oh no, I couldn't have that!" Funny how times and our perspective change.
Feel better!
It's probably rickets.
Was that helpful? No?
I'm smiling with you not at you, i swear.
I would miss you!
Yeuch about the goiter...there are few things so miserable as having no idea what's going on in your own body.
I'm a bit of a hypochondriac myself...kind of twisted to be disappointed every time you find out that no, you're not going to die.
And I agree with Sandra...definitely see a doctor. Certainty trumps uncertainty in this case.
I was disappointed you didn't get into the finals. My husband's a little tired of hearing me grumble about your plight and the unfairness of the universe and all that. I made him listen while I read your shopping list post to him over the phone to prove my point that you should have made it and blah blah blah . . .
But thanks for mentioning me. Being up for best commenter is like being told you're the person who is most likely to have something to say at all times, whether anyone wants to hear it or not :)
Cat Scratch Fever is the worst.
I'm so relieved it's not that!
I may have to steal that line from your great gran next time my 11-year-old daughter launches into a list of why and how I'm the worst mother in the world. I'll merely sigh and say, "Yeah, you may be right. But you're gonna miss me when I'm gone." I think I'll go practice saying that out loud right now.
Feel better soon!
In the words of our (unfortunately) Gov., "It's not a tumor!"
Goodness, I'm glad your goiter isn't so large as the one in the picture. Goiter is like gout to me - a disease of the 19th century. I'm always surprised to hear that it is still around.
I wanted to comment about the hair pulling accusation, but it would seem so insensitive after everyone's heartfelt good wishes and comforting replies. So, let me just say:
Bwa ha ha! You have a goiter! Mom, look, Julie has a goiter!
Whew! Now I feel like a real brother.
go to the doctor. I had a goiter, turned out to be hashimotos thyroidis. which save my life becuase I had Thy cancer and that is symptom less until about 2 mintues before death. Not that you have it but get checked. It's easy to do and your kids need you.
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