Teen Drama

I know I haven't posted for a while.  Busy season is kicking my butt.  On Friday morning, though, it will all be over.  And then I get two 4-day weekends in a row.  Woo Hoo!  No medical information to report because I haven't had any appointments lately.  I have both a radiation follow-up and a plastic surgeon consult in January.  Then, nothing until March.

Monica has an ex-friend who contacted me anonymously (from another friend's phone) to report that Monica has been smoking cigarettes and pot and sneaking out to be with a man that is 6 years or so older than her.  She finally confessed who she was when Kevin and I started calling that number to find out who it was.  I no longer smoke, so I would smell smoke on her if she had been smoking, and I know that this ex-friend does most of the things she accused Monica of.

I contacted her mom and suggested that they come over to hash things out and move on with their lives, and that Monica was willing to take a drug test so we should test them both.  She agreed to be here today at 2.  I brought the test home yesterday and Monica took it.  Nothing.  (I'm not the least bit surprised.)  Today, they called to ask if they could postpone.  Eh.  Whatever.  I like this lady and have no beef with her at all, so if they ever come over, that's fine.  If not though, it'll be no skin off my nose.

The allegations of Monica sneaking out prompted me to ask when this supposedly happened last.  Ex-friend said that it was on Monica's birthday.  Umm, if you are going to make things up, make up a random date.  Don't pick one so easy for us to remember.  Monica was with me all evening.  We were laughing about the stupidity of a guy who was sending stupid texts to her.  We stayed up late that night.

This other girl just thrives on drama.  I know that all teens have some drama, but this one is over the top.  She tried trash-talking about me to Monica, and that was the last straw.  This family has had enough drama in the past year without some immature little girl making up stories.  Also, being faced with my mortality has made my children pretty dang protective of me.  We're content to just be happy together.

So, with the afternoon free, we cleaned house and I made a big pot of chili.  Time for some football and a nap.  I love weekends.

Stupid Monday

It is NOT right that I would hope for surgery soon, just to get some time off.  This day was chock full of suck.  Everyone was mad, everyone was accusatory, everyone had a chip on his/her shoulder.  I fixed what I could, apologized for the things I couldn't fix, and moved on.

Oh, and I haven't had a smoke since Thursday evening.  Yeah.  I know.  Maybe that's why I'm crabby, but point it out or tell me how good it is for me, and I'll cut you deep.

Really?  Smoking is bad?  It smells bad?  It's expensive?  It's a health hazard?  Wow.  I had NO idea!

Sorry.  I'm crabby.  Stop being stupid, stop pitying me, stop lecturing me, stop ordering stuff you don't want, and stop being SO happy that I quit smoking.

Just quit it.

Please Excuse Me. I have PDAS.

I know about PMS.  This feels a lot like that, but it's not the right time.  Sorry, guys.  I should have warned you about THAT, but I didn't.  Too late.

I had a freak-out sort of day.  Last night and today have been tough, and now that I'm seeing a pattern, tomorrow will be rough, too.  My Modus Operandi is to freak the HELL out before an appointment, and then be fine as soon as it's over.  Whether the news is good or bad, it's news.  I need information.  Waiting sucks.  It is Pre Doctor Appointment Syndrome.  I suffer it greatly.

Tomorrow is my oncologist appointment.  I will find out what medication will be involved to help me kick this thing's ass.  I find out if I'll lose my hair.  I find out if I'll be too exhausted to work at the level that I want to during this thing.  It doesn't matter.  Tell me I'll kick it's butt, and I'll do what you say.  It's just the unknown that is killing me.  It did last week, too.

So, I suffer from PDAS.  I'll be about to pass out on the way into the Dr's office, and fine when I walk out.  Just like last week.  Now that I can name it and recognize it, I plan to laugh at the tears.  Laugh at the shaking hands.  Laugh at the stupid reactions I seem to have to certain things.  We're out of rice?  WAHHHH!  LOL

Sorry.  You can't judge me right now.  I have PDAS.

Here We Go

I'll know the details in 14 1/2 hours.  It's HORRIBLE to wait.  I HATE waiting.  Tell me now, good or bad.  OK, it won't be "good," as in "Hey, we were wrong!"  but there are better and worse scenarios, and I need to know.  NOW.  Sorry.  I've never been good at waiting.

I Should Be In Bed

It appears that I'll drive the Tepid Neon to work tomorrow.  The hood is black, but it's driveable, giving Monica's truck back to her.  If it does well, I'll be good to go.  We  may even have it back to all red in a couple of weeks.  Then, it will be luke-warm Neon.  LOL

Oh, and I had a Dr. appt this morning.  Why do you have to wait at least three times as long as you're seen by a medical professional?  I mean, it was an EARLY appointment!  How much could change in 45 minutes?  Go ahead.  Leave me half naked in a cold room for 20 minutes.  I don't mind.  That's not awkward at ALL!