I really just texted this to a live human

... after he had sent: "Just getting in. Dinner in the archipelago and then networking with the Aussies."

See how smooth he is? How he drops in networking with Australians he's SO familiar with he actually refers to them as "Aussies?" (I've not yet looked up "archipelago.")

Yeah, THAT smooth. So I sort of forgive myself by responding with:

"We aren't talking about Aussies. We are talking about nuts and toilets. And if my shrink, I mean, attorney thinks B is one, what does that make me? The answer is not 'a toilet.'"

Yeah. I sent that across the wireless frequency all the way to Stockholm from the States.

Dear Saturday,

I know you were yesterday and that today is Sunday, but I didn't get a chance to post and thank you for providing some perspective for me to reflect on my week.

You delivered my cycle today, which explains a lot, as it usually does.

Please accept my belated appreciation.

Yours,
Solo

PS:  Dear Sunday,

Apologies for not issuing you your very own post. Yet -- I haven't been awake that long, so ... having said that, I realized I already need to thank you FOR NOT BEING MONDAY.

When I first awoke this morning, I thought you actually WERE MONDAY, which caused me to panic because it was 8 a.m., but then I realized it was you; I was relieved and opted to sleep in a bit longer.

Thanks for that. Maybe I'll give you some props on the FB.

Dear Week,

I hate you. No really, I do, Week "Post-Vacation." Do you know why? Because I'm back in town and I'm not one damn bit happy about it.

I would rather be in Florida. I would rather be on the beach, or under a parachute high up in the sky, as long as I'm far away from my son's father and his constant texts and emails and the religious lessons he's determined to teach me. No. For real. He's compared me to the Pharaoh of Egypt, Goliath, and The Walls of Jericho (though he's promised not to "buy a trumpet and walk around [my] house seven times while blowing on it."). I couldn't MAKE THIS SHIT UP!

I was texting with my "remote therapist," best friend, who lives in DC but also happens to be an attorney by hobby (and by doctorate degree in LAW) and is actually a member of the Texas Bar Association. Yes, he's an over-achiever. But anyway, we've been trying to work out the puzzle of me for a good decade.

I texted, "I need a GOOD therapist. Not some shitty pretend one. Not a faker who says I have anorexSHA either. I need one. Because I am driving everyone I know, including myself, crazy by talking in circles.

Oh, and because [BD] questions my mental stability."

Seriously, again, after promising not to sound a trumpet while circling my home seven times? He went on to state he questions my "mental stability."  The FUCK?!

According to DC bestie, "[BD] does not *actually* question; rather he says that because he knows it distracts you. Most of what he says has little to do with belief - it's tactical."

DC also said he believes BD is "vacationing in Jesusland," as many recovered addicts are want to do, but it's a vacation, and he'll eventually have to return. Though I did point out: Some people? They live Jesusland everyday their ENTIRE LIVES. I think they're called Bible-thumpers. Nothing against them, but that just doesn't work for me. I'm a believer yes, but man has probably screwed up all scripture over the years anyway. Just my thought. If I'm going to read bad translations, why not read more Dostoevsky?

So anyway, Week? You can SUCK it. Maybe I'll be better once the weekend arrives. And to be honest, I am looking forward to spending money at my attorney office tomorrow ... I hope we can accomplish something and volley a modified proposal back to the opposing counsel.

"Marriages come and go, but divorce is forever," to quote the late Nora Ephron, as we approach the first anniversary of her death.

Slowly dying, but a clean bill of health

So after all that drama and hooplah, I got a clean bill of health. CT scan is normal, mammogram normal. I am not dying, as I briefly thought ... and by briefly thought, I mean I had projected myself into the near future, where I surely had fatal lymphoma and my son would be raised by his father who would get everything I've ever worked for and would probably take my son up to the midwest where he would be surrounded by his fucked up paternal side of the family. And then he would become addicted to drugs and die a horrible death.

OK, so at least I know I'm not dying, but being in this "legal process" certainly feels like I am.

We had a wonderful vacation. I may write about it. I think I only received a text or email from son's father every 24 to 36 hours.

Our plane arrived back home a few minutes early yesterday, and no sooner than I'd stepped off the plane? I got a text from him. "I saw your flight arrived a few minutes early, so I expect you will be able to bring [the boy] to meet me by 6:30 p.m." FUCK. OFF.

I met him at 6:20.

I'm home less than 24 hours and I receive an email already this morning about some hearing in August, which my attorney wasn't even aware of because it was hot off her fax machine, which had yet to be checked. Opposing counsel could have phoned.

Anyway, I'm back, and all my fucked up symptoms, like increased perspiration and anxiety are in full effect. I swear, while vacationing in Florida, I had absolutely no symptoms.

This damn man may be the death of me ... since we've ruled out lymphoma.

Things I learned today ... from strangers:

I wasn't alone drinking barium sulfate. I met a man, and it was almost like *happy* hour. I don't know this person's name. I don't know what his CT scan is for or what lies ahead of him. I do know he's funny ... that he would rather see his "last ex-wife pole-dancing than have to drink the rest of this crap."

I wasn't alone in the CT room. I met the technician. She's never had a mammogram because she's only 35. She used to go to Texas Scottish Rite Hospital, like my son. When she was born, her fingers were webbed. They corrected it, and she liked going back because they have such interesting things to look at, and the popcorn, yes, she remembers the popcorn, and the jello from the cafeteria. She thought it was fun, kind of like my son does. Because we're lucky ... neither she nor my son (nor I) have ever been as sick as some of the other young patients that the hospital treats.

So I learned I'm not alone. And unlike the woman next to me also waiting for her mammo, I didn't have to stay for a sonogram after.

Perhaps focusing on today, being in the moment, living wholeheartedly there, in the moment today, resulted in me now reflecting on my blessings.

I get a pass

So I have wireless access while I sit in the waiting room, drinking my "Mochaccino Smoothie," also known as barium sulfate suspension, which I've been tasked to consume over the next hour, prior to my CT scan.

Starbucks, it ain't, regardless of wi-fi access.

I've suddenly never wanted a quarter-pounder with cheese more in my entire life.

I made it downtown on time. Well, maybe I'm fudging five minutes, but that's on time in my book ... despite rush-hour traffic ... or my gas light coming ON. Twenty five miles remain in my tank, says the dash. I hope that gets me home because ...

I get to my appointment only to realize I've left my small purse, containing ... my ID, my insurance card, my usual credit cards ... yeah, it's at home, in the bag I took with me to soccer practice last night.

Luckily I have another ID ... and a checkbook! Which is unfortunately quite important. Not only is this appointment inconvenient and uncomfortable, but it's also expensive, even with my insurance (fortunately they already had all the details regarding my coverage).

Today? I get a pass. Today I'm talking about my CT scan experience MORE than I'm talking about my BLESSINGS. If you don't like it, you can stop reading now. I'd like to spin this as "living in the moment," which is positive right? Aw hell, I said I get a PASS already.

Thankfully, a very humorous older gentleman joined me about half-way through my Mochaccino (making it a PARTY!). He has his own barium sulfate cocktail to consume, and his is berry flavored. The? There's more than one flavor? And why didn't they notify us or give us an option to choose? The menu here SUCKS. But wasn't it nice of them to arrive early this morning so that they could sit here with us as we consume our beverages and kill an hour?

I just finished my cocktail, and I don't even have a buzz.

My companion has stopped making jokes and is busy reading a magazine. I think I'm 10 minutes from starting this whole scan process.

If I ever have to do this again, I prefer afternoon. Because after this scan, I get to go to mammography, and then, after that? I get to go to work ... after I get fuel. Will the joys of this day ever cease?

Repeat to self:
I'll be on the beach in one week.

Happy Monday

I'm trying to be more positive, remember? So I'll start with the fact that ... I had a pretty good weekend. And this is the last week of school for the boy, and the last week before our vacation.

I really can't express HOW MUCH I need a vacation. Or maybe I kind of did in my last post.

So this week will be busy, prepping, and now I have another doctor appointment ... tomorrow actually. And that's a good thing, not a bad thing. It's good because they are going to do a CT scan of my abdomen and my pelvis to check out my lymph system.

I really think it will come back fine, and then we'll move from there and see what's up with my hormones.

How's that for optimistic? Pretty good when you consider that part of me wants to freak out and start planning my funeral because I probably have lymphoma. But those are irrational thoughts, so I won't go there. This is just going to be a good base-line scan to see what's up and that I'm healthy and all that. It's just to rule out anything horrible. No big deal.

So yes, happy, happy, I'm trying to be.

I read something on the Book of Face about talking about one's blessings more than one's problems. So, I'm trying PEOPLE.

That is all. Happy Monday.