My liver, the slut.

In the past month or so I’ve spend a good deal of time being sick.  Well since my gall badder in January.  The last month though, I’ve done the ungeekiest thing I could think of.  I’ve not wanted to sit at my computer and do anything.  Instead I find myself watching NCIS and House re-runs zoned out.  Why?  A lot of reasons.

Lately I’ve spent a lot of time wondering how my mother in law and my mother, who while my sister and  I were young was pretty much a single parent, did it.  How did they work full time and run a house.  Sure mom had dad but as Rosanne Connor once told Jackie “You want Dan.  You think he came outta the box that way?  I had to train him.”, meaning mom had to work for years getting dad to do basic stuff around the house.  How he kept his car was a better picture of how he’d have kept the house were it not for mom.  There is a story that is told from time to time about one of the times mom had dad’s car.  Carly and I had a friend along, Susan, so Carly and Susan were in the back seat and I was sitting in the back seat.  Carly opened a piece of Tupperware that was back there.  The smell that wafted from that tub that only moments before had been a harmless container to carry leftovers was so bad my mom pulled the car to the curb and demanded I throw it down a sewer drain.  My mom was neurotic about her Tupperware, it was never to be abused.  So the fact that whatever had been the remnants of dad’s lunch that fermented to a point where even my mother decided that it needed to be buried says a lot.

But I’ve spend time wondering how they did it.  Because by Thursday I’m pretty much held together by coffee and Diet Pepsi.  Once I stop with the caffeine I crash.  Not to mention my body hurts and I start to feel down and almost depressed when I look around and realize, if I don’t wash that dish or vacuum this floor no one else will.  There is no balance between spending time with your child, where years fly by, work and keeping a house clean enough you don’t feel the need to ask your guests to put on bio-hazard suits.  In every place something has to give.

Sometimes I just walk over the raisins and Cheerios’s that are now ground into the carpet.  A side note, when we moved here they were going to put new carpet it.  I requested they didn’t and put it into the lease that we were not responsible for damage.  In retrospect I think that was the smartest move I made.

Other times I let Kyle watch one more Backyardagains episode than I know in my heart he shouldn’t watch just so I can make dinner that is actually hot.

While sometimes at work I find myself making phone calls to my mother to make sure Kyle is no longer pukeing.

Everything gives somewhere.

In the last month Kyle has turned 1 year old.  I no longer have an infant.  The bucket car seat is retired and he watches the drive from the window where he can now see the other cars.  He walks, and babbles.  He’s begun to play a game where any ball he finds he gives to mommy.

He sleeps through the night and dances.  He shows his likes and dislikes and is learning how to manipulate mom and dad.  He’s still learning “no”.  To him it’s a game.  He finds joy in playing it too.  He’s had his first bout of a stomach bug, a few colds and his first cake.

In short, he’s him.  And I savor the cuddles he will give and the few kisses he’ll allow.  He’ll be 13 and won’t want me near him soon enough.

He was also sweet enough to give his stomach bug to mommy, who is done with vomiting until she’s 50 if she can help it.

Last Saturday I had an MRI called an MRCP done on my abdomen.  I’ve been having a lot of stomach pain and the END showed nothing so the GI doctor had me sent to have the MRI done and make sure a small stone wasn’t still lodged in my bile duct or that the bile duct wasn’t over producing and then putting too much bile into my stomach.  The good news was that they found nothing of that sort there.

It turns out, however; that my liver has been naughty.  I should have had them check that so much sooner, it is after all taken a lot of abuse over the years.  I thank O’Connor’s for that and the tequila.  The MRI showed a lesion of some kind on the slut of a liver.  Because the MRI wasn’t focused on that they have no real information other than something is there.  So April 17th I go in for another MRI, both with and without contrast and happy do not panic in the small tube drugs, of my liver to find out where it is and what it is.  Being the gal I am I did some Googling and found that in most cases these types of things are totally benign, so much so that doctors don’t even remove them if they are a tumor.  How, though, they will deal with the stabbing pain will be something that will need to be addressed.  In fact it could very well be a tumor caused by my birth control.  If that’s the case we’ll need to remove the IUD and see if there’s another option for us.  Aside from me charting again.  Or playing the “well you can’t get pregnant anyway game.”

Of course, my very Goth and gallows humor mind thinks, “Great all those years smoking and I die of   liver cancer not lung cancer, LIGHT ‘EM UP FOLKS!”

I realized yesterday that my birthday is hiding around the corner.  Honestly, I’m ambivalent about it.  I was last year too.  We’re broke, in fact everyone is.  It’s a Thursday and it’s only 31.  And most of my friends forget.  Last year, in a fit of pettiness, I remembered a friends birthday but refused to send him birthday greetings. In 3 years of friendship he’s never remembered mine once.  Of course I found out later from him that over all it was one of the shittiest birthday’s he’d had and my guilt gland kicked in and I apologized and then he apologized because he realized that, yeah in 3 years of me remembering he’d never even asked when I always remembered his.  So then it became an I’m sorry match.  I think it’s still going on.

So that’s life.  A little tired, a little pain, some I’m sorries and a few laughs.

Thanks again Sara for the post title.

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