Pregnant Pause

My X Ray in boxersI’ve noticed over the last few weeks that I have to finish every story or whoever I’m talking to assumes the worst. You know who you are, whether your friends in far away bass-ackwards places (i.e. Texas) or closer to the bat cave (i.e. Oregon) or any point in-between (New York, California, Norway) (I know, between Texas and California does Norway lie, but I did get my geography from public schools in Texas so what do you expect).

A simple statement gets blown out of proportion. Someone asks how I’m doing and I say “so so”. Their response: “Oh my god, what’s the matter, you can always tell me anything” etc. etc.

I expect that from a few of you (and again, you know who you are), but I don’t really expect it from everyone. What? Am I broadcasting death and destruction? Why is everyone everywhere suddenly all in my business?

Strange.

So tomorrow I’m going to visit the cardiologist. Panic! OMG! I must be dying. I don’t plan on dying just yet so back off! I’m a 44 year old cancer survivor, so it’s expected that I should visit the cardio vampires. Don’t read any more into it than is there.

People reading between my lines are seldom on the same page.