You know why I hate going to a doctor for a random check-up? It’s because for some reason I don’t wanna find out if something is going batshit crazy inside my body, which may sound like a dumb thing to say but I really don’t wanna hear it, y’know?
Anyways, I found out that our beloved company would be holding a MediCard sponsored check-up extravaganza the day before. Unfortunately, it’s mandatory meaning, try as I might to weasel my way out of it, I had no choice but to comply. Great, thank God I’m not old enough for a fucking pap smear or else I would’ve lost it, hahaha!
So, fast-forward… after all has been said and done, it’s time for the usual boobies check-up. Sound fun, right, pervs? For the record, I could’ve easily skipped the breast check-up but I figured, hell, since I’m here, I might as well make the most out of it and besides, what could possible go wrong with this body? I’m fucken healthy, beyotch!
Well I do have a long history of being proved wrong and wouldn’t you know it, the doctor found a small lump on my left booby which is, not cool.
Now first off, I shouldn’t panic as I know full well my hormones were a little jumpy these past few days (Ladies, you know what I’m talking about) and it’s probably nothing. Also, I’d like to point out that me, dying of cancer, wouldn’t exactly be surprise news of the decade if you take into consideration the fact that grandmas from BOTH side of my family died of the disease. It’s practically a given that I’ll either die of cancer… or uh… of retardation.
The reason why I’m writing about it is this, for that weird moment right there when she’s telling me I have a tiny lump and I should observe it for three months, I became aware of my own mortality for the first time in my life.
I couldn’t even verbalize the feeling but it struck me as strange and I was totally unprepared for it so it scared the living daylights out of me. Wow. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t mask the shock when she told me about it and it must’ve shown how alarmed I was because she hurriedly told me about periods, hormones and the likes. Told me not to worry which is nice of her though kinda 2 minutes too late. Fact: It doesn’t take much for me to panic. I panic when I can’t find the damn remote, I panic when I’m out of chocolates and I panic when I forget to drink coffee so…
In my mind, I told her something like “A lump you say? Calm down, you say? That sounds so easy, no? Lemme tell you something, sweetheart, Calm the fuck down my ass because you know why? You’re not the one walking around with a lump in her boobies, bitch. So no thank you, I won’t calm down, doctor. I have every right to fucking panic, you hear me?! PANIC!!!! . So excuse me, I shall start running around in circles while gnashing the fuck out of my teeth into tiny stumps because between you and me, that’s what I do when people tell me I have a fucking lump in my fucking boobs. And may I just say, that blouse you have on? It hass got to go. So fuck you, y tu mama tambien. No! Wait! No morphine, it makes my nose itch and I’ll feel bloated and schiz! I’m calm, I tell you! Calm!!! No! NoooOOOOoo!!!!” *screams like a “girl”*
Hehehe, so although I was worried and shit, I’m proud to say I took the news quite… sanely. But needless to say, she kinda ruined the rest of the afternoon for me. It’s not her fault though. Although doing the melodramatic shit like the one above would’ve been so much funner don’t you think? God, routine check-ups really knows how to screw you over, no?
I remember a good friend who confided to me that she found a lump in her breast not too long ago and it scared her to tell her parent about it which is, silly. Well all I can say is that, I know exactly what she’s going through.
Oh life… such a fucken ball-buster.