When Leslie emailed me to ask if I would be interested in guest posting for her while she was off doing all the things new mothers do (sniff the baby’s head, count and re-count the fingers and toes, stare at your boobies in fascination as they grow and grow and then grow some more, etc.), I told her that I would be HONORED to guest post for her. But, in all honesty, I would rather just BABYSIT for her while SHE blogs. I mean, seriously. If she had offered to let me be the one to sniff Lucy’s head or count her little piggies or have an impromptu boob job I TOTALLY would have jumped at the chance. But, noooo. She doesn’t trust me with her freshly birthed little baby girl. Given my propensity for nibbling on baby toes, I don’t really blame her.
So here I am.
I’ve really been struggling lately with this blogging thing. I seem to be out of things to blog about, which is odd, considering that I blog about my life and, well, so far as I know I’m not dead. LUCKILY FOR ME, something popped up that I just knew I had to share with Leslie’s fans.
You see, a few months ago, I wrote about a little problem I was having with my hand. The doctor told me that there was a possibility I had gout. Yeah. I know. I’m not 90 years old and I don’t use a walker and I have all of my teeth. Quite odd that I would get gout considering those facts, eh? Well, my readers (especially Leslie) seemed to find it humorous that I possibly had gout. (I didn’t. It was a ganglion cyst. I think.) In fact, Leslie (sweet little Leslie!) still teases me about the gout. When she interviewed me for her This Is Motherhood column in
February, she asked me about gout.
When she emailed me the user name and password to her blog for my guest post, guess what my password was? Go on. Guess! If you guessed “thegout” you win. (I’ve since changed it, because I HAD TO share that password with you. I peed my pants from laughing so hard.)
The reason I bring up the gout is so that you’ll understand why I had to share the story of the goiter on Leslie’s blog. The story goes like this: I woke up one morning a couple of weeks ago with a tiny bump on my bottom eye lid. It was sore, but not overly so, and I assumed that it was just a sty. I got a washcloth wet with warm water and held it on my eye for a few minutes and then went about my day. As the day wore on my eye got more and more painful. I actually took Tylenol before I went to bed because it was painful to BLINK and, well, I don’t know about you, but I tend to blink every few seconds.
I woke up the next morning and MY EYE! OH, MY EYE! That wee little sty had taken over my eyelid while I was sleeping and was now the size of a pea. Yeah, I know. Peas aren’t very large, but TRY PUTTING ONE IN YOUR EYELID. (Also, I MIGHT be exaggerating. But it WAS big.)
/This is not my eye. THANK GOD./
As the tumor in my eye continued to grow, I continued to stress out about the fact that it could possibly burst and then I would have TUMOR GOO in my eyeball and if that doesn’t make you want to scream, I don’t know what will. I was beginning to think that I should go see a doctor, because whatever it was wasn’t going away on its own.
And thats when I heard the commercial about goiters. I, of course, became convinced that my sty was actually a goiter. Because, DUH! It was! Yes, I know that TRADITIONALLY goiters are enlarged thyroids and not enlarged eye bumps. MEDICALLY SPEAKING, it might be a bit wrong to call my sty a goiter. But, answer me this: If you had a gigantic, painful bump on your eye and people were asking “What the hell is wrong with your eye?” would you answer A.) Its just a sty, don’t be scared or B.) It is a MEDICAL MYSTERY or C.) My doctor said its a goiter?
Obviously C is the correct choice. Because its just more funny that way.
Thankfully my goiter cleared up on its own in about a week. It did, however, get so bad at one point that I actually PLUCKED AN EYELASH from my goiter. It was just itching so bad and I couldn’t help but think that pulling a hair out of the bump might actually SCRATCH the INSIDE for me.
Yes, I was desperate. And no the plucking of the eyelash did not feel as good as I had hoped. In fact it caused me to curse and scream and maybe cry a little.
So there you have it. The gout and the goiter. I’m just one big old person trapped in a 26 year old’s body.