Friends, my meningiomectomy is coming. (I'm not sure if that's what it's actually called, but that's what I'm calling it.)
Marvin is getting evicted, tentatively, December 15. I'm ready. This is the last thing in the unending tirade of medical bullshit that has come my way this year. And, if Marvin is benign, this surgery is curative. CURATIVE. After this is done, all that's left to do is recover and to heal. And to have a Ceremonial Burning of the Medical Paperwork of 2021. Let me tell you, I have A TON of it. Like, a ream and a half of paper. Of course, I have to have another colonoscopy in January, and then there are the every-three-months follow-ups for a few years with my endocrinologist, but I will not be in a doctor's office three times a week come this time in four months. If I am, I'm going to strongly consider quitting my job and being an arsonist as a next career move. (JUST KIDDING. I AM NOT A SAFETY RISK TO OTHERS, I ONLY MAKE VERY INAPPROPRIATE JOKES.)
Anywho, with, y'know, brain surgery coming, it's given me a fun opportunity to delve into the world of hairstyling. A fairly significant portion of the left side of my head is going to be shaved, and while Rob thinks that the best course of action is to shave my entire head, I'm not so sure. I don't want to freak out my clients, we'll be going directly into wintertime, and I don't want to wear a hat everywhere, so there's a lot to ponder. Pinterest has some very interesting wormholes in the world of hair, let me tell you. I so rarely take care of my hair - I go to the hairdresser maybe once every four to six months - and so I've got a lot of pondering to do about it. My hair is curly, which adds another dimension to it, but I think I'm finding some really, really fun stuff.
Of course, I say that I'm going to sit with it and figure out what I want and be methodical, but given that I have an impulse control problem, I'm likely going to the hairdresser tomorrow. Yeah, I'll be going into the office on Tuesday with all of my hair chopped off. I've wanted a new hairstyle for a while, and I'm super stoked to change it up a bit.
I've also decided that the thyroid cancer has not spread. I'm having a total body scan in a week and a half to see where the radioactive iodine is concentrating, and it will show no spread. It just won't. The surgeon took two lymph nodes and one of my parathyroids in the thyroid surgery just to make sure, and they were all negative for metastasis, so the chances of that being true are pretty good. My geiger counter came in the mail today, and I've been having a hilarious time holding it up to things and seeing if they emit radiation. I imagine I'll find it less entertaining when I have to hold it up to myself and it dictates whether or not I'm able to leave the house, but I digress.
Also, my hate amalgam is ruined. RUINED. KYLE IS A REALLY NICE DUDE WHO IS JUST TRYING TO DO HIS JOB. To add insult to injury of the death of this hate amalgam, my therapist was all "How about you just feel the anger that you feel, Ryan?" PFFT. WHAT DOES SHE KNOW OTHER THAN THE MOST INTIMATE DETAILS OF MY LIFE AND MY DEEPEST THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS THAT I WOULD NEVER SHARE WITH ANOTHER PERSON EVER. I mean, this is a great opportunity to be able to actually delve into my feelings about all that has happened over the past year, so there's that, but I'm just so MAD about it. Everything is annoying, and I am Most Definitely Not In A Place Where That Can Be True. I'm trying to run a business and bring on new clinicians and be supportive of my clients and navigate all of this medical stuff. My feelings can take a number. The reality is, my feelings are currently the Karen in the Deli Line that's all "I don't have time to wait for this! UGH" and has a temper tantrum and everyone just wants to shut her up and just lets her cut to the front of the line. There's a lesson to be learned there, which is that my feelings need their turn in the front seat for a little while so that they don't jump on the hood of the car, but I don't want to learn it. I just don't. There's a big part of it that's fear - if I open up that well of rage, will I ever be able to close it again? I was able to practically cement it shut in years and years of therapy and trauma work, and I didn't expect to have to let it out again, but here we are.
Who knows. Maybe I'll pick up boxing. Punching things feels like a good idea and a good way to get out some powerlessness and frustration and rage, and it's WAY more productive than what I'm doing currently, which is nothing.
