I haven't written anything in a couple of days because I've been so freaked out and nervous.

Ever since we got the "results" of the CT scan on my kid's brain, I haven't been able to relax or move forward. (I'm sure it's probably nothing, but I can run my head worse than anyone I've ever known. This is not my most shining moment). I didn't hear back from our doctor, so I called her. I left word that I really needed to find out what the radiologist's final thoughts were on the "cyst" he saw. Was he confident of is findings? If so, why did he suggest an MRI? Shouldn't we just go get the MRI to be sure? How difficult to figure out is all this anyway? My doctor called back to say the radiologist hadn't responded yet.

Christ on a crutch! I understand that radiologists look at films every day that are full of cancerous growths, tumors of all types - narrowed arteries. Apparently this one is just too busy to return a phone call in a timely manner, and doesn't have a fucking clue what it's like to wonder if there's something suspicious growing in your child's brain. I can tell you, it's a really horrible, awful, terrifying feeling to not know whether the bottom of your life is going to fall out at any moment - and have to feel like that for a fucking week without anyone giving you the courtesy of a telephone call.


Which brings me to my next thought. What is it with God, anyway? In pondering mortality, I've hit a big roadblock. See, I've always pretty much thought the big-guy was taking care of me and mine, personally. I mean, nothing too awful had happened to us. We'd had plenty of close calls, but managed to narrowly avert death or dismemberment. When I got sober, nearly 13 years ago, I was taught that my "higher power" was taking care of the most minute details of my day to day existence. In fact, "He" alone was keeping the cocktails at bay. Was that NOT true? Have I been single-handedly declining alcohol all this time by myself???

Apparently, God is up there on his throne, watching over us all - even the little things in life like basketball championships and spelling bees. Yet for reasons known only to himself, he decides to give this one a brain tumor, or that one prostate cancer - and KILLS THEM. How do the victims and their loved ones continue to sing praises to this God? How do they bury their loved ones, comforted in the knowledge their loved ones are "with God"? Hello? God just killed your loved one in an awful, painful manner.

I don't believe I could take any comfort in that "certain knowledge". I would be so absolutely pissed off at God, I don't think I'd ever speak to him again!


Well, I'm glad I got that out there.

I have to clean this stye for the kid's party tonight. Gosh, I hope it turns out well. We've got plenty of food and snacks - music, scary movies and a couple of guitars.

Perhaps I should pray for a nice party, huh?

October 25, 2003

Buh Bye!
October 05, 2008

Be Afraid, People.... Really Afraid
September 01, 2008

One Last Bitchfest for the Road
August 24, 2008

Get the Popcorn Ready
July 17, 2008

I'm a Rich Ho-Bag
June 20, 2008

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