52. Pre-op appointments and "positive" pregnancy tests ... Or a trip into the absolute absurd.
There are a few things i have been sure of throughout this whole process. These are the things I cling to, the things that make me feel better in the moments when I seem to lose my grip on reality.
I really like having no hair. Except my eyebrows, I need my eyebrows.
I will survive this, as I have endured much worse.
i am not pregnant, nor do I have to worry about being pregnant, ‘cause if you read my husband’s part of this blog , you’d know it’s been a fucking long dry season.
That was until last Friday, while in the midst of a mani/pedi in the nail salon my primary care doctor called.
DR R: Stephanie it’s Dr R. I’m calling about your test results.
Me, with my toes all up in a pedicure : Oh, hi Dr R! What’s up? I saw they came in.
Dr R: I’m calling about the pregnancy test.
Me: Yeah, what about it?
Dr R: It came back positive
Me snorting in laughter : No, that’s impossible.
Dr R: Well it’s a blood test, so you are going to need to see me or an OBGYN for an ultrasound as soon as possible.
Me stunned, and still laughing : Okay, I will.
I imagine you are thinking I jumped out of the chair and ran to the medical center. But no, I’m not an animal, this was a pretty pricey gel-mani and pedicure, so “pregnant” or not, it could wait until they were finished. Besides as completely back asswards and surreal as this was, I’m a smart enough girl to know HOW a baby gets made, and the sad reality of “chemically induced menopause” with a giant side helping of radiation, is NOT the aphrodisiac one might think it is.
Nonetheless, I did what any sane girl would do, while waiting for her nails to dry in a public place… I texted my husband and my posse of ladies who have been my bedrock throughout this whole thing, and all whom would agree how absolutely funny this was.
And when my nails were dry, I hauled ass to medical center so I could see about an ultrasound.
When I arrived, I attempted to not appear like a crazed lunatic as I asked if I could see my doctor or really ANYONE who could stick an ultrasound wand into her lady parts to prove once and for all that this was a side effect of chemo, not indeed an unknown fetus that had been poisoned and radiated within an inch of my own life. The only “miracle” I was looking for was a medical fuck up, a mistaken “blood switcheroo” or a body that is just not sure what the hell is going on hormonally cause frankly : I am fucking TIRED .
We are supposed to be rounding the corner in this journey, where it gets less dramatic, where it gets a little easier. The biggest question left will be answered next Tuesday, when we finish with last of the invasive cancer eradicating and I find out post procedure whether I have lost an entire kidney or just the tumor part.
My doctor was unavailable and the soonest ultrasound appointment I could get was Tuesday, which I took, and then did what I did what any girl who can’t believe she might be pregnant would do: I went and bought a pregnancy tests. Two actually, (when you are trying to prove a point it helps to have numerical evidence) and I peed on those sticks only to have them say…:
NO RESULT and NEGATIVE
This was not as comforting as one might think. Because when it comes to accuracy in pregnancy tests BLOOD TRUMPS URINE.
So I dove in further, and explored the range of possibilities for the past and the future good, bad, and ugly… and then I put a pin in them.
Until I know what this actually IS, I have no room for fear and worry. They are simply wasted energy . However, the timing of this particular “conclusion” is not lost on me, nor the options I, as a white woman living in California, have at my disposal should I need to critically weigh them.
My sincerest hope is that there is no decision to be made. My bandwidth has been tested enough and I’d prefer to not keep testing it.
I’d prefer that this is yet another ridiculous amusing tale that has become a mini chapter of my story.
Because if not, Imma really gonna need a cocktail that I won’t be able to have.