Dec. 21st, 2012

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The end is near--of the solar year, at least, if not the world. Seems like every year, I get completely out of whack between Thanksgiving and Solstice, but then I'm finally able to put the year away this day, and enjoy the rest of the calendar without worry that I've missed something. I probably have, but I stop caring, at least. So hooray for that.

Alas that this year's December chaos was far more intense than some, and it kind of came to a head the last few days. There's a lot going on--waiting for the adoption, getting my first book prepped to pub, holiday stuff, etc., but the biggest has been health issues. The plague I got just before T-day was huge--and it's still hanging on by its filthy fingernails, causing fairly massive exhaustion and lethargy, plus on-and-off fevers. And then there's also the knee issue, which still hasn't really resolved, and which is making standing, walking and even sitting difficult.

Thinking I'd be smart and at least get in for a physical/pelvic, I did so Tuesday ... and that's when things got weird. First, I noted to the doc that the ENT folks said my headaches aren't sinus-related, and suggested that I see a neurologist. My primary, however, doesn't think that's it. Instead, she thinks I have something called idiopathic intracranial hypertension. Which is fancy words for saying there's too much fluid in my brain, and so when my BP is up--as it has been lately--there's extra pressure on my head, especially my optic nerves, causing the migraine-like symptoms I get. I go in soon to see an opthamologist to get screened for it, but I admit I'm seriously freaked out. One of the main treatments for this is a lumbar puncture to drain excess cerebro-spinal fluid. Hooray.

I also got the usual chiding about my HDL being too low and my BP edging into concern territory. And she needs me to see my endo soon, even though my A1C was basically fine. She also sent me in for a mammogram--my second, since I started last year. I'd thought the new protocol was every five years until 60, but apparently no. And, well. Good thing, because it found a lump.

(Way to bury the lede, Shawna. Sheesh.)

It's tiny--about the size of a pencil eraser--but it's big enough to feel, and doesn't have any surface disturbances to blow it off as a sebaceous cyst or something similar. Given that I have practically no risk factors (my family generally gets hypertension and diabetes, not cancer) and the thing is small, chances are it's no big deal. But I go in again the day after Christmas for a better scan + ultrasound to be absolutely sure. The location of it is also a bit concerning because it's close to my lymph nodes, so they want to confirm that it's not anything bad.

Like I say, chances are it's not. But if it is worrisome, I have absolutely no compunctions about them cutting that thing out or even hacking off the boob. I honestly couldn't care less whether I have boobs or not, so they can both go away if needed. Hell, I already straddle the line between butch and trans, so it's not like I'm going to have a problem with not feeling femme if I no longer have chesticles. And Susan G. Komen and her pink brigade can still kiss my ass, with how much money they waste on "awareness" when it could be going to research. Bleh.

At any rate ... I don't plan on dying soon, and I admit this has me scared enough that if it does turn out to be nothing, I may well get my lazy ass in gear and try to get the ol' bod a bit closer to not-fucked status. I already know there are some issues that won't ever go away, but I can probably at least get my HDL and BP in better nick, so there's that. Of course, if this turns out to be icky, the adoption is probably on permanent hold, but if it doesn't, we'll likely have a kid next year. And I'll want to make sure her non-bio mama is around long enough to see her get a few degrees and go live in space or build an underwater city or something. So there.
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