And Just Like That, I’m 20 Years Old Again



I can’t keep having surgery… soon my insurance is gonna get pissed off.

I found a small cyst in my left wrist.  It’s hard, hurts, scared me, decided to see the doctor about it.  It’s just a little ganglion cyst, no big deal.  Common, run of the mill, no big deal.  While I was thinking about that tiny thing, I was all, “Oh, hey, maybe I should touch my scar and see how my parotidectomy is doing.”

So, yeah… it’s back.  They can do that, don’t you know.  Come back.  Sometimes I feel like it’s all in my head and it’s not really back.  I lose it sometimes, because it’s not that big.  Not like last time.  But no.  It’s really there.  I mean, it’s conceivable that it could be scar tissue…

I made an appointment down in Charlottesville for the 10th.  Why Charlottesville?  Why go 2 hours away for something that’s relatively common?  The last time I had one of these fucking things, my doctor was incredible.  He spent extra time to make sure that I was able to smile, again.  He knows my file, how long it had been in me the first time, my special circumstances and all that.  That’s why I’m going back.

But I think up till I made that appointment I was in a little bit of denial.  Even tho I had read all sorts of papers and medical journals about the recurrence rate of these things and how sometimes people wanna punt you to an oncologist and give you radiation, in a detached way, this wasn’t actually happening.  When I got off the phone, I started crying.  I called M because he went through this with me the first time and how scared I was.  I just needed to talk to a friend.

And as I was driving home, I started to think about it again, and I started crying again.  Like, giant fucking sobs and shoulders heaving, and all that shit.  I am goddamn terrified.  I’ve had surgery a couple times at this point, I know the drill.  I remember what happened last time.  Its not like I’m scared of the unknown, here.  I know.  I remember.

Why am I so scared?

After the surgery at my follow up appointment I asked the doc what would happen if it came back and he said that we’d deal with it.  Well, here we are.  11 years later.  And I have to deal with it.


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