No Wire in the Blood

As Mom and I walked into the Northwest Georgia Oncology and Blood Disorder Center last Thursday, my palms were soaking wet. I was trying to act cool, carrying in my nearly-read copy of Watchmen, avoiding the magazine rack full of cancer-related reading material, and trying not to make eye contact with those who had arrived for chemotherapy treatments. I felt that if I looked at anything having to do with cancer I would jinx my mother. So, I focused on my book, my heartbeat, and little else.

When we were called back, I quickly glanced at the people sitting in the treatment room, and there he was. A man no older, but most definitely younger, than me. He calmly sat in a large chair with an IV in his arm and a bag of the foulest stuff imaginable connected directly to his vein. And I quickly looked down at the scuffed, well-worn floor because I just couldn't do it. I couldn't look him in the eyes knowing that just a quirk of blood or DNA or cell-growth or something, separated us. I realized that I'm a coward while he? Was amazingly brave.

As the doctor walked in, she looked at me with confusion in her eyes, and I explained who I was and that this was my appointment. And that I wanted, needed, to know Does my mother have leukemia? You need to test her for cancer, because I don't believe your diagnosis of anemia. Because I may not be a doctor, but I am her daughter and I absolutely, positively, have to know.

And right there, in the span of ten minutes, the doctor explained that my mother's white blood cell count is normal and nowhere near the high levels leukemia patients have, that Mom's anemia hasn't worsened but that the doctor has been adjusting Mom's iron infusions to find her best fit, that there are other chronic anemics who come in monthly for iron infusions and that is how you deal with it, how I need not worry.

To say I breathed a deep sigh of relief is an understatement. It was then I realized that I was not ready for the worst-case scenario I had been imagining for nearly a week. I may never be ready when the health of any of my loved ones begins to fail.

But last week? This chronic pessimist became a little more optimistic when I discovered my Mom is none the worse for wear.

I also realized that I have a deep-seeded fear of dying, specifically dying from cancer, that I need to deal with. It's going to be a long row to hoe.

The Meanest Things I've Ever Done

I'm a pessimist. Nine times out of ten, when given a compliment, I'll downplay said compliment with a negative because I don't know how to take anything nice said to me. It's difficult to say "Thank you" and leave it at that. That having been said, I don't like to "toot my own horn" and knowing that, the title of this post isn't "The Nicest Things I've Ever Done." Yeah, I've done nice things for people, but I've also been mean and, a couple of times, rather evil. So, think of this as the blogger confessional. I'm here to share my "sins" with you. Because, let's face it, it's more fun to sin that to be good! :-)

This is Teri's favorite story. My mom had this crack-whore (literally, she was a drug addict who prostituted herself) living across the street from her in West Virginia. This lovely woman was also afflicted with cancer and AIDS. Nice. Anyhoo, she made life hell for Mom and her two, really nice and sweet 80-year-old neighbors. One Christmas, while loading up the car to leave, Crack-Whore is coming down the street with her Doberman and I hear her say, while staring down my mom, "Sick her!" I lost it. We ended up having a Jerry Springer-type yelling match in the middle of the street and I ended it with the words, "And, you have cancer and I HOPE YOU DIE!" And, you guessed it, 16 months later, the cancer took her. I know her lifestyle killed her and not my curse, but the nice, goody-two-shoes part of me can't help but feel bad. Of course, the devilish side of me is quite proud of myself!

This one is pretty mild. I was president of my sorority in college, it was the last day of school (time to load up the car with all of my crap and head 500 miles home), and I find out that my rush chairman never returned three GIANT tanks of helium to a rental company in Gainesville, Georgia. So, there I am, trying to arrange a male-truck owning-fellow collegian to take these tanks back to the rental company (because my parents' Dodge Shadow was bursting to full), and in the meantime, I leave my chairman the nastiest, full of foul language, phone message I can muster. Not proud of that, but I did get my point across.

My first real job out of college included a manager that did not like me. We were like oil and water and, in my opinion, she was a horrible manager and rather mean to me. So, after I left that job, I sent her a Management for Dummies book for Christmas, anonymously of course (I'm such a pussy). Oh, and? She's a close friend of my in-laws and it was my in-laws' company. Yeah, probably a bad decision.

And, the top prize for "Meanest Thing I've Ever Done" is the following. A former friend divorced his wife for cheating on him and re-married one month later, to someone he hardly knew. In the meantime, we found out some less-than-desirable things about him and the mean and untrue things he had said about us. He and the new wife were keeping their marriage a secret from her family so that his in-laws would pay for their grand church wedding nine months later and for their week-long Caribbean honeymoon. So, to get back at him for being such an ass to us, I got a copy of their original Tennessee marriage certificate and sent it to her family the day after their big church wedding. Yeah, they were kicked out of her family's house upon return from the honeymoon. Classic. Quite proud of that one.

So, what are the meanest things you've ever done, dear readers? Let me know!