Shit. Damn. Fuck.

Maybe it's a big deal, maybe it's not.  Of course, my mind immediately rockets off into thinking it's the biggest deal in the world.

Today, I was feeling good about myself:  doing my homework for my MFA writing workshops, getting some writing done, meeting with a friend and her kiddins, having a nice California roll lunch, going about my business throughout this wonderful city we live in.  Then out of nowhere, I get a call on my cell from the cancer agency.  They want me to come in for another ultrasound--this Friday afternoon.  Maybe it's just my paranoia and imagination, but the woman on the other end of the line sounded particularly saccharine--like the kind of cheery that makes you wonder what's really up.  Like when someone who's a meanie to you is suddenly nice.  It's like cancer itself called and said, "Hey, there, remember me?"  Yeah, cuz for a moment, I kinda forgot.

Anyway, I suppose I should be thankful that someone is trying to keep tabs on this lump, which yes, is still here.  So on Friday, I'm getting an ultrasound on the left chest area, so I was told by the jovial woman today, who said, "Awesome" when I reluctantly said, yes, I can come in on Friday at 1pm, thanks.  So there you go.