Up until this morning, I was absolutely certain that the ultrasound of my abdomen was going to be a waste of time. The last thing I said to Mr S-P before I walked out of the door at 7:30 was "20 bucks says the result will be 'it looks normal, you're fine.'" As always. Anything that bothers me for years and years always turns out to be something no common test will identify. (Although I concede, the paralyzed diaphragm Dx started with a chest x-ray. It just didn't stop there.) I held my conviction that nothing would turn up until I was on the table, and she kept pressing the transducer wand farther and farther down, even with or lower than my belly button. (It really hurt, but I didn’t make a sound.) She and I had a pleasant conversation as we lined things up, and I gave her an abridged version of what I have had going on, and what things could be in there. I made sure to include "or nothing at all," because that's what I assumed it would be.
As I was wiping the gel off my stomach, so I could straighten my shirt out, she casually asked when my cancer was diagnosed. I don't think I visibly flinched, but I did find it an odd question. It put a little crack in my shell of invincibility. Now I just wonder whether she was continuing to express empathy for what I told her I had been through, or do I need to reconsider my confidence? I'm trying to shake it off, but it still makes me feel a little weird. I probably will have forgotten about it in a day or two.
I'm on my own for a few days. The man had to go fix the fence on the house we still own in New Mexico. I have dreams of selling it and being out from under the stress of being absent landlords. Until then, we have to keep it fixed up, either by hiring locals or by him going down and doing work himself. It means things here will be quiet, and I have to remember to do the things he usually does, like water all the flowers and vegetables every single day. I've been told to be on bindweed duty as well, plus to go out and pick the ripe cherries off the north tree. I got a medium sized bowl picked while storm clouds cooled the yard, rain lightly sprinkled, and the wind kept yanking the branches from my hands. I need to do this during better weather, but what better weather is there than a thunderstorm?
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