Remember the second opinion my doctor decided my teeny tiny mole needed?
(The first opinion was "benign," and I was cool with that, of course, and everything was fine until he was all, "we sent it to another pathologist for a second opinion, however," and then I talked to my friend Bo who also had a thing removed only his was not benign but he appears to be all good and scar-free now, which he thought he wasn't [scar-free] but then again he doesn't even remember when this happened [!]; I made him show me his chest in the parking lot one night before the show, and how weird must that have looked, luckily Jessica and her friend pulled up after he, you know, lowered his shirt; anyway, I thought that if this guy, Mr. Healthy [he is so not Mr. Healthy], had a Bad One [mole], why should I be let off all scot-free, and does "scot-free" have a hyphen? Or is it scott free? I just hope I too am scar-free eventually, but I'm sure that's much too much to ask.)
Anyway. So I'm walking around the mall today and I get a call from a number I don't recognize. (Why does Kaiser call you from one number and then tell you to call back to the 800 number? Wouldn't it be much faster and more efficient to just give me a direct number already?) I didn't pick up. I mean, would you? So I listen to the message they left, and call them back, and 20 minutes later (heart pounding, "what if the first results were wrong, I mean, it is Kaiser" minutes), the nurse or whoever she was said, "Hey, your results were benign." And me, standing in the shoe section, looking at all the ugly shoes, I go, "Cool. Thank you," and then I hung up.
Cool as a fucking cucumber.
Right on.
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