Skip to main content

The C-word. (No, not that one. Get your mind out of the gutter.)

It’s been a while since my last post.  It’s for many reasons, let’s just say “life”.

The bratlets are changing at a rate of crazy.  Dude is getting sincerely entertaining with his weirdness, little dances with shooting fingers as he exits a room backwards, things like that.  Madam has developed a wide streak of sarcasm, which warms the cockles of my salty little heart.  They’re the same size now, which confuses Himself no end as he can’t tell which clothes belong to which kid.  I regularly get asked about my twins.

Speaking of Himself, the man is only getting better with age.  He’s back at karate (and yes, it’s sexy as hell) as Dude wanted to give it a go, and I’m currently typing from the hall as all three of my little family punch at the air.  That’s right, after months of seeing the boys head off to karate, Madam is trying out her first lesson as we speak.

As far as myself, I’ve had a hard time lately.  I had a bit of a cancer scare, which sounds super overdramatic, but I’m at a loss for another term.  I had gone for my routine smear test, but this time the results were concerning.  There are three grades of dyskaryosis (precancerous or abnormal cells on the cervix) and I had grade three, the most severe.  This triggered a further investigation called a colposcopy, where the cervix is examined under a microscope and stained with ascetic acid and iodine to make the abnormal cells more easily visible.  The doctor performing the colposcopy showed me on the video feed that the entire face of my cervix is covered in abnormal cells.  She also took four punch biopsies during the same session.  The less said about those the better.

I do a pretty good job of living in the present these days, focusing on the positive and not borrowing trouble from tomorrow.  I won't lie, though, waiting for those biopsy results was tough.  Thankfully, they only took a week and a half to come back, and there was no indication of cancer.  Cue major relief.  I still have to have the entire front of my cervix removed, that's happening Tuesday afternoon, and the recovery is going to suck hard, but it's not cancer.  Shall I say it again?  I don't have cancer.  Whew.

The best bit about the last few months is my new job.  I've done such a random assortment of things over the last twenty-five years (yes, I've been working for a quarter of a century) that I've always considered myself a jack-of-all-trades, master of none.  Little did I know that was a job description...  I got a job as the caretaker at our church and I'm loving every second of it.  I've repaired and bled radiators, cleaned roofs, painted, cleaned, gardened, and a thousand other things.  If I don't already know how, Google has the answer.  It's only a part time gig, but it's so fun, and very rewarding when people have noticed the positive changes in the building and grounds.

So, all in all, everything is pretty good.  I love my job, my kids are entertaining, and I have a hot husband who folds and puts away laundry.  Who could ask for anything more?


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Lazy weekend.

Bliss. Sun, moglets, sun, loads of good food, sun, and Himself. Good combo, let me tell you. We let the moggies out sans leads for the first time on Thursday (sporting their new collars and tags, and freshly dosed with flea drops), just for about an hour to see how they handled it. Both of them tore headlong into the flowerbeds in search of new smells and the occasional bug to eat. On Friday I left the back doors of the conservatory flung open to let the seriously amazing weather in and the felines out. This turned into me sitting in the conservatory for longer than I'd care to admit, book discarded to one side because watching them chase bees, butterflies and each other was more amusing. Saturday morning dawned clear and sunny, so I hied myself down to the conservatory (as I woke up around half six and thought Himself might rather sleep a LITTLE longer...) for a bowl of muesli, a cup of peppermint tea, some reading and yet more book neglecting as I watched the lunatics conti

The real deal.

So, I thought I'd been having cravings for the last couple of weeks because I've been eating loads of tuna and pasta, seemed like that was all I wanted to eat. Tuna sandwiches with a cup of tomato soup to dip them in, and egg noodle pasta for some reason. That is, until Monday night. Monday night, Himself called me on his way home from work as usual and asked if we needed anything (again, as usual). I said no, that I'd already been to the store but I wasn't really hungry anyway, and that I'd see him when he got home. I settled in with the cats on the couch and started flicking channels, getting the girlie TV out of the way so that Himself wouldn't have to suffer through it when he got home... Half an hour later, it struck. All of a sudden, out of the blue, I was starving. It wasn't the usual "go rifle through the kitchen until I happen upon something that looks edible" hunger. It was specific, overpowering, CRAVING hunger. What did I want,

Sprogging.

That's right, folks. The Browns are up the duff. *grin* Shocked? That's okay, so are we. Seems I'm actually related to my mother (who got pregnant while on the pill more than once). Apparently I'm four or five weeks, which may seem like jumping the gun announcement-wise, but I think it'll be interesting to catalogue the changes to my body for future reference... you know, in case in a year or two I forget how miserable I was and decide we need another, I'll have a reminder of what it was like the first time... Heh, just kidding. At least, for now. Physical symptoms aren't too bad at the moment. I've not had any morning sickness (touch wood), but my appetite is very odd. Half the time I'm starving to death, half the time I'm not hungry at all (like now, while Paul is eating lunch and I'm having a glass of orange and peach juice). I've got low level cramps pretty constantly, and it feels like there's a fishhook in my belly but