TUMORS...IN SPACE!

Another thrilling doctors appointment today. I, being the silly goose that I am, forgot to get some apparently quite important blood work done.
After telling the doctor that the Klonopin she gave me made me feel like a complete zombie, just short of nomming on brains, she prescribed me some Ativan.

"Well...at least I don't have anxiety. Or any emotion for that matter...except a very strong craving for...BRAAAAAAAAIIIIINSSSS."

Supposedly, the Ativan won't make me go all Resident Evil on everyone's ass, but we shall see. Picking up the medication tomorrow. The people at the pharmacy are going to start to recognize me. Hrmm...a place where everyone knows my name...

Time to go get me a terrible haircut. 

So, until the blood work gets done I will not be prescribed anything more long-term for my anxiety. I nodded repeatedly like a half retarded monkey while the doctor prattled on about why the blood work was important. In the midst of medical mumbo-jumbo, I heard "rule out tumor".

A what now?

....tumor?

Apparently, my mother, my father, my grandfather, and my grandmother are not enough evidence of anxiety running through my genealogical veins to come to the assumption it's just anxiety. Clearly, if most of my immediate family have anxiety I, therefore, must have...a tumor.

Okay, so she didn't say it was a great possibility. Just that she wanted to rule it out. My thyroid tests were a little wonky (which coincidentally can be caused by high levels of stress). Seeing as I am obviously the coolest of the cucumbers (I wear sunglasses at night- that's how cool), stress probably isn't a factor. Oh wait...anxiety for 7 years and a pissed off thyroid might be a tumor and not stressed? Well, mmkay then!

THIS cucumber is fucking COOL. Not at all high as a goddamn kite. He maintains this disposition despite knowing he'll be in a Caesar salad someday.

Well, whatever. Tumor, no tumor, the only thing I could think of when she had said that wasn't my loved ones. Wasn't the years I'll miss out on. Wasn't what horrid things I'll have to endure. It was this scene from Family Guy:

Damn you humor! Why must you have no boundaries?! 

You would think someone with pretty debilitating anxiety wouldn't be silently giggling in a doctors office when the word "tumor" gets tossed around, but that just goes to show you how amazingly influential television can be. Also, I just laughed at the idea of that sentence being literal. Like playing hot potato with a tumor. Oh, brain...you so crazy.

Monday I'll be going for my blood work. Some recent high school drop out with a two year education at a community college will be poking my veins with needles Monday morning. Me? Stress? Can't be. 

I would must rather have him draw blood from me. At least he knows what he's doing.

So, after that I have to wait another four weeks for my tumor to cultivate- I mean...for a follow-up appointment to which a tumor will at least be ruled out. And then maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to start a real medication and you know blend into the faceless society and whatnot. Whatever the cool kids are doing.


And if tumor isn't ruled out...then well, at least I'll have a pet to take care of. 

Tumors. Way cooler than pet rocks. At least they grow.