And the award goes to...

On February 25th of this year, I went in for my annual. My doctor found something that disturbed her, and she tossed this to me:

"Michelle, this is cancer until proven otherwise."

Wha...?!?!? Me? Cancer? If I have a tumor, how big is it? How fast is it growing? I flashed on a memory of a show I watched on the Discovery channel about a woman with a hundred-pound tumor, and then suddenly I was sure I could feel the thing growing inside me, the cells dividing and multiplying as fast as their little cell selves could manage. If we didn't move on this fast, the tumor would soon overtake me: Death by tumor smothering. At my funeral viewing, I would look like Mrs. Potato-head, and the undertakers would have to sit and bounce on the casket lid to get it to lock, just like I have to sit on my luggage when I'm packing for a trip. Hurry! Quick! We've gotta move on this!

Oh, no. After I left the office in a daze, it took until last Monday to get my results. That's thirty-five days. It was a tough month, especially for a person with such a vivid imagination.

Prior to the test, I'd asked around about it, and everyone who'd experienced one said they were completely painless, that I wouldn't feel or remember a thing. Uh-huh. Perhaps the specialist I chose is saving money by cutting back on pain or amnesia medication, because I remember every second. I was sure I was in the wrong room and this person was mistakenly harvesting my organs for donation. If a) I hadn't had my back to her, and b) I'd had a shiv handy, there would've been big trouble in Surgery #3. Maybe she's saving up to buy another reaming device; one that doesn't feel like the machine that dug the chunnel from England to France.

Turns out, I'm fine. Nothing to worry about. Hallelujah, I am not turning into a pod person. Even my cholesterol and blood pressure levels are lower than the recommended number. Huge relief.

Today my friend Sarah H. came down from Portland for lunch, and presented me with an award for my troubles. Behold, The Golden Polyp:


I'm honored, really. I didn't even prepare a speech. I'd like to thank my doctor, the sadomasochistic specialist and her assistant, and the Demoral for what little relief it did provide. I'll never forget this moment. Thank you SO MUCH.