“It’s not cancer.”
That’s what my doctor just called to tell me. It’s such a simple sentence, but I’m hard-pressed to think of one that’s nicer to hear. “We just invented egg rolls that make your hair thicker” is close, but not by much.
I was a puddle of relief for about 10 minutes until I realized that what she was really saying is that I don’t have cancer in that one violently angry ovary that they spent a month examining. Which means the rest of my body might be riddled with God-knows-what, and that’s why I think we all need to pool our money and buy an MRI machine that we can all share. I’d put it on Kickstarter but they rejected my last application for bring joy to the world so I’m pretty sure they’re probably anti-MRI’s-for-everyone as well.
PS. Thank you for being there to distract me when I was freaking out. Seriously. You helped more than you know.