I love eating oranges. Even after washing my hands, my fingers are tainted with that beautiful scent of fresh citrus.
It’s been a strange day. I went to church with a friend, to a new congregation specifically for young people. My parents thought it might help me find friends around here. This particular congregation – or “ward” – is primarily for single people aged 18 to 30. It’s not really a “dating service” environment, more for people just starting out and trying to get used to that transition from teenager to adult. I was hoping it would be different, but you know what’s funny? Even though these people are supposed to be more mature, there are still the quintessential high school cliques, they’re just older and more impressed with themselves now that they have jobs. There were the preppies, the preppy-bohemians (they don’t quite know what they are – Hip? Vegan? Abercrombie?), the “Outcasts”, the Old Navy crowd, the group that’s “different” but ends up looking the same, the group of guys who look like they just fell out of bed; they were all there. Now the trick is trying to find where I fit in, or if I want to fit in at all. I don’t want to change myself to find friends; I don’t want to be forced into a label to have a “crowd” to hang out with. My hope is that I’ll find someone else like me, someone who’s happy with who they are, who can be happy hanging around with someone else that’s confident in themselves. Someone who can have a conversation about a wide range of things, who can have fun doing lots of different activities, and someone who can be happy just watching a movie on a Friday night with a good friend. I really hope someone like that exists in my new congregation, because I’m getting tired of being alone. And, on top of all of that, my one movie buddy left is moving to Hawaii.
Tomorrow at 12:40 I have another appointment with the doctor to hopefully get the results from my MRI. However, I’m not all that optimistic. Even if it is just the harmless kind of tumor they *think* it is, I’ve still found a possible fourth tumor in my back. And, on top of all that, the little “harmless” tumor in between my shoulder blades that they said was “too insignificant to bother with” has been hurting like mad. Every time I try to correct my posture, I can feel it and it really hurts. I can’t stand it anymore, the wondering what’s going on, and the anger at the doctors. They aren’t doing anything. They’re treating tumors like they’re nothing, when it could be anything. I even called them the day of my MRI to ask if they could scan the other tumor since it was worrying me. They said they’d change the order, but they didn’t. The doctor said he’d check on my MRI results immediately, and he didn’t. I’m sick of it. Why do I always end up with the case that goes against all textbooks, and at the same time, have luck bad enough to get doctors who are far from thorough? Tomorrow I’m going to insist on having at least a full-back MRI, if not a scan of my entire body. I don’t want to worry anymore, I don’t want to feel like I have some monster hiding underneath my skin, waiting to jump out and scare me to death.
But more than anything, I want my life back. I want to go back to thinking I was finally recovering, that things were finally looking up for a change.
I need to go back to watching Due South now.
