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9/26/2014

BFF part two : all or nothing

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"Let's Begin." says the surgeon. 

Panic. I am not ready for man touch - must stall - "Uhh Liza and i had a bet as to what you would look like. I won."

"Mmm." Said Dr. impeccably dressed and slightly unimpressed but yet somewhat curious as one eyebrow did dare to rise above the steadfast steel of his stare.

"You have glasses." My arm shot out to point at his frames and Ethyl now free from my clutches dropped and crawled under my belt to hide. ( coward i muttered as i gracefully continued to flick my right hand at his face while my left hand dug her out of my pants and stuffed her back behind the blue drape of my gown) 

"Well -" said Dr. Never break eye contact - "Had i not gone swimming this morning i would have been wearing my contacts and Liza would have won as i suspect she usually does."

Liza's face broke out into a wide squinty eyed grin and the nurse navigator - who did not miss a move turned her face away as her shoulders visited her  chin in a series of breathless guffaws. The resident still stood in the corner wearing her Coach Dunce Hat. ( parnters.. mmm i wonder what in?)

The Dr. washed his hands and motioned with his brow for me to get on the table. Why is that no matter where you land - no matter where you try to position yourself you always have to scootch. Scootch up and you get a wedgie. Scootch down and the paper crinkles up behind your ears. Either way - i always feel like a piece of cod. This time a very sweaty nervous little fish.

He pressed. He poked. His fingers wrapped around Mary and squeezed the bejesus out of her. The sea monkey's tried to swim up breast but he cupped the exit with his palm. What little air there was left in my gut wheezed out of me like a lost balloon under the rung of a rocking chair.

"Ok. Here are your options. I can do a lumpectomy and try to save what I can or i can do a simple mastectomy with sentinel lymph node removal and testing….dr talk mumble swoon blah blah swoon ok -  committee meeting

simple? um what is simple about removing a body part… save your breast - moron how about you save your life? sentinel what is this the matrix? jeeze that is a nice watch - numb arm pit? i am numb right now - just ask kelly! chemo - lose your hair? oh but i have such nice hair - ya so you will look great  as it cascades on the pillow - ya the one in the coffin - be brave kelly!!  huh?

Finally i got the committee to clam down. i looked to Liza. She was sheet white. I looked at the Dr. Then the nurse navigator gave me the look. The look of a woman who cannot say but knows. Really Knows. All Kelly - let him take it all.

Our eyes locked. Ok. this is real. jokes over. funny shoes are pointless. deal.

"All please. I would like you to remove whatever you can - whatever you need whatever you find. I don't need you to save my breast sir. I need you to save my life." 

Out came the paperwork. The notebook that Liza painstakingly writes everything down flipped page after page as i nodded when i though i should and simply focused on my breathing. I signed things, smiled and pretended i could hear the instructions. But all i could hear was my Mother. When she was sleeping i would sneak up and sit on the floor beside her and listen to each breath. Deep in. Deep out. I would try to breath with her. It never worked.

" K.M you creepy little child. I am trying to sleep here, and your noisy ole mouth breathing is like trying to sleep beside an asthmatic rattle snake."

I chuckled and came back to the room. Back to the present. Back to my own breath. I took a really, really deep one.

"Any questions?" The surgeon asked as he folded up the papers and tucked them in an envelope. 

" Yes," i exhaled - "Is it ok to travel? I really want to take my BFF here  - (as i held up poor swollen Ethyl) - my breast friend forever - to Vegas. " 

"Yes." He said as he stood to leave - "But best take Liza." ( he reached to shake my hand.) " As far as BFF's go she's the best bet you've got." And with that, he smiled at the resident and motioned for her to join the departure.

"All or nothing gals." said the Nurse Navigator with the best smile ever - 

"All or nothing indeed."

 




















 






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9/15/2014

You brought your BFF - That's sooooo great!

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Ok so we have met with the nurse navigator, Liza has read the books and put a cancer safe search on every device I have so I do not freak myself out looking at pictures and self diagnose myself with every cancer possible. 

But what if one of the lumps is my congenital unborn boy twin and he has prostrate cancer!!

Next we are summoned to meet with the surgeon. This is a beyond scary thought. This is real. I am sick.  I really am gonna lose a body part.  Maybe more. What if it has spread? This level of fear requires new sneakers, crisp pants and waterproof mascara. Which by the way you can use to touch up grey hairs almost anywhere.

Also, before you begin the big steps here are some tips to follow for medical appointments. Clean up. Look good. Be really early. Like 40 mins. Be interested in the art and displays. Say hello. Smile. Ask the people who are checking you in how they are. Listen. Wait for an answer and make eye contact. Thank them. You might feel like hell and be scared as hell - but they work in hell. 


Partly because of us and partly because it is a teaching hospital. And well some of the residents - well - are - maybe not quite getting it yet. And the it i am referring to are many of the same ideas from above. Simply put manners. Bedside or otherwise. 

Enter resident number one. Good shoes-loafers which means no shoe laces. No shoe laces means no pee on hands from dragging along floor near a urinal. Ew. 
Crips pants- nice tie grampa style- a fancy clipboard and no sounds coming from the sheet white gaping face. DR. Homer was just standing there gargling his tongue. Staring at me. I offered a hello and got this. 

"Wrong wrong room." More gargling. And a moonwalk back into the hallway.  Super rude. 


Don't worry I won't tell anyone. I will tell everyone.  

Enter resident number two. Who enters talking - about the other fellow and leaves not a breath between words, sentences and paragraphs. I am able to identify myself-and begin to introduce Liza when Dr. Stilltoyoungtogetmyletterfromhogwarts- says - 

"Omg you brought your best friend- aren't best friends awesome!" Blah blah Blagh ......... 

The look on Liza's face was 25% Carmela Soprano - 50% Nurse Jackie and 25% I need a Stella. 


Finally after enduring a Lisa Simpson saxophone style lymp node scale in ow major, a re-do on every question I had already answered and her life story - the grown ups came in. 

Now there was silence. The kind where all you can hear is the ticking of a watch.  A proper I earned this watch.  A watch earned over years of study and care. A watch that says I got this. The surgeon smiled at me. With a kind hello he nodded at me and glanced knowingly at Liza to whom he offered a chair.

This is my partner. The only other sound before he spoke again was  the slow sliding of shame off the chin of the resident.

"Excellent. None of us can do this alone. Let's begin."



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9/5/2014

Which one of you is Kelly?

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Says the Dr. The very nervous Dr. The pale DR. dressed all in black that is going to tell us what the MRI has decided. The kind eyed shaky handed Dr. that we have never met before. The DR. who is standing in the doorway looking back and forth to each of us..  totally confused - who gently ask us - with the voice of an angel -

"Which one of you is Kelly?"

Well that blew that prank.

Liza and I got the call to come to the Doctor's office just 48 hours after the fabulous MRI surfing experience. Panic. Quick news is bad news. My chest plate had joined Ethyl in mutual bruising and I was still a one side only Pam Anderson special. It had been a long 30 days since the fateful pool incident. Naturally we were and still are -  a bit wound  up. Keliza style. Which means to cope with terror - we turn into a gay version of Patsy and Eddie  - in our world Penelope and Gretchen. 

So we - P and G are sitting in the Dr.s office laughing and joking and posing for pics. I am Penelope. I have a trashy Euro accent. Gretchen is slightly Parisian and totally creepy. 

"Ohhhhhmm Penelope  - let me look in your ear - on  my i can see right thru - no Kansaire in there. "

"Gretchen dahrlink - please put those dirty dirty little things down - and hop up on the table - ohh look gloves -  small medium and no chance of a pap smear with those !  Egads -  they are huuumungeous!! " SNAP

"Ohhhhhhhmmm Penelope - you are sick - " " i know Gretch Gretchy that 's why we are here."  

" Muahhahahhahahah!!  laughter as G and P plot to role play Kelly as Liza and Liza as kelly. Why we thought this would be funny was beyond comprehension. But i guess it was Liza's way of saying please let it be me and not you. And my way of having a condo over looking denial.  

"Here darling sit up there and look sickly - worse worse yes yes can you tear up a bit?  - maybe chew your hand?" OH Yes good idea Penelope - i will sit here looking all concerned and conventional. Pass me those glasses. Oh dear she is blind and has cancer how sad."

Enter the Dr. Exit P and G. Enter reality. 

" I am.  This is my partner Liza. " I am ashamed of myself as i make an effort to explain what we were plotting and apologize  profusely to the Dr. for being essentially an -  intensive dork. 

We go over the pages and pages of results. It is bad. It is official. I have cancer. Three kinds - three spots - grade three - three options.  I continue to try and sooth the Dr. who is still shaken  - I ask her how she is   - " This must be hard to tell someone you have just met this news." I got a very strange look and a raised eyebrow. 

" Why Kelly, are you being so nice to me?  What is it you do you do? You are being so brave.."

"Well Dr. You are telling me something i already know. I have had lots of time to prepare. You have not .That and i work with kids, and sometimes no matter is happening in my head or world, it has to be 100% about trying to help them - right now  this is like that - it not about me - this is about us. All of us ( with a wink) Even Gretchen and Penelope."

 The Dr. just shook her head, smiled and asked if i was going to be ok? "

My answer was, is and always the this - i looked up at Liza - 

"I have to be."











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9/2/2014

...Waiting... 62 days and counting... count chocula - oh look a chicken!!

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Waiting. I suspect neurotypical people wait. A lot. I suspect they do if for years on end. If I googled it - I am gonna  guess about 3 to 4 years depending on where you live and whether or not you drive on the Don Valley Parking lot. Or take the TTC. Otherwise known as tedious and time consuming - or Take the Car -which could put you on Lake snore Boulevard. Driving is crazy making. Driving in Toronto is just crazy.

My ADHD brain just not get the concept of simply waiting. Although once about 24 years  ago I came really close. Really close to getting myself tossed out a window onto the street. Really close to getting my socks stuffed into my mouth by my classmates. And really, really, really close to giving my acting class professor an aneurism. ( not that you can give them out but if I could I do have a short list)

The lesson - which I have since stolen and adapted was to learn about being in the moment. To be present and accepting - not just stand there and wait for your turn to say a line. This of course was super obvious to my brain - I have always said to myself and others -

"Where are you? HERE. What time is it? NOW. Does anything else matter? NO."

So as my brilliant teacher ( not sarcasm) was explaining the concept of the moment I had a rather smug look on my face. Apparently too smug. So I was selected to go sit on a painfully solid wood chair placed in the middle of the room. No reason no words just gestures to get to me to go sit. Silence. More silence. Fascinating. Soooooo interesting. I could not stop smiling. The entire class was just sitting there. Staring at me. Bliss. The committee had a big meeting in my head. So much to think about and all the space in the universe to imagine, play, plot, plan, dream, which I do both asleep and awake.

Then the Prof said - and I have no idea of how much time had passed - as I do not get time - in a hushed tone - " Ok - let me know when you know what you are doing."

I brought my attention as best I could to focus on the faces of my classmates. Woa. Nasty. Now mind you this was Trent in the 90's. Purple might have been the official colour of things feminist and lesboinc but I was not expecting so many faces to be bubbling purple. There was one gal who looked positively Elizabtheanly Talyorish.

Two hours. Two hours had passed. Two hours had passed since he asked the weird question. This I noted by the clock tower. Which I think many people in the room were about to go. I was so taken aback. How had I missed all this frustration and anger?

" What?" I asked - shattering the silence like flatulence at a funeral.

 " Well Kelly - do you know what you are doing?" "Nope." - pretty sure I had no chance of explaining myself. Pretty sure I had just sucked two hours of peoples life away. Pretty sure I should just drop the class and run. I scanned for my shoes then said - very quietly through burning salty tears of shame -

 "I am just sitting here. Being myself." My Prof walked up to my hanging head and lifted my chin. He looked me right in the eye - right thru to the back of my swirling head.

"Exactly." He said still in that hushed tone. "You were the only one not waiting."




- So please, don't wait. Don't wait to live, Don't wait to die. Don't wait for an absolution that will never come. (Titanic)  find your moment and be in it.

Oh look a chicken.

Kelly





















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8/29/2014

It's a little LOUD.

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Saying an MRI machine is a little loud to a person with ADHD is akin to suggesting to a toddler that a Bhut Jolokia pepper is a little hot. 

Asking me if i am claustrophobic right before stuffing me into a giant ceramic bic pen is mean. 

Wrapping a tube around my arm until both my eyes and veins pop out is just trying too hard.

Standing with your arms crossed staring at a girl who is darn near unconscious with fear is simply rude. 

But, 

Having to lie face down arms extended like a flying super idiot - boobs dangling with all your weight on your breast plate five days after a nasty biopsy is an episode of Survivor 31: The Health Care System. You put a 127 pounds on 6 popsicle sticks and see what happens. Ya pass out.

However, For the most part most people find an MRI ok. For me it was a nightmare. In fact i still have nightmares. Like the ones i have from watching the last episode of MASH. Bloody Chickens…

In my mind i had the MRI all figured out. I asked people. Oh relax, they give you music to listen to. It's easy. It's just a little loud. 

Loud like an air raid siren. Loud like the radio I was listening to. Which turned out to be a live CBC report on the conflict in Gaza. Even with the earplugs I could hear gun fire and people screaming. I could also hear the very nice but frustrated tech team telling me to stay still. I think I lasted about a minute before my arms started to go numb. Then shake uncontrollably. By the ten minute marker I was unable to breathe from the weight on my chest. As I had crawled into the thing they added a super comfy thin rubber pillow - like one you might find in discount casket - under my knees to get an extra dangle angle for Ethyl. The only thing full of air was my head. I could hear more and more voices.. There was a committee meeting of panic happening. My heart started keeping sync with the beeps.

"Just keep swimming" said one voice.... "42 walla bye bye zzzzzzzzzzz.

Then just one voice was talking to me. A very familiar one. A very clear one.

"Kelly Dear ( said with 3 l's) - you keep still or you will have to do it all over again. YOU BE STILL NOW. Do not screw this up. You can do this.  " 

and so I did. Like I said. There is no arguing with Liza. And there can be no can't in cancer.
















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8/27/2014

The Day After the Big B - my DD's became EEEyows

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There may be some swelling she said. Oh and some bruising. And it will hurt more the second day. Truer words were never said. Thank goodness Liza had arranged baby sitters. Surprise babysistah's. 

I stirred from under my pillow fortress to find Liza dressed for work and hovering at the end of the bed holding a tube in her hand - Looking very serious...

"Wake up .You have to get up. Cdubs and Muffin are on their way. Hurry they will be in here in 30 minutes. And you have to shower your hair is on sideways. And yes you are allowed to shower and you can swim today too. but first this" I was half asleep and so very very confused. 

Saran wrap? 

"Yes to cover the steri strips now sit up and hurry up!"

Do we have a cat? 

"Yes. in an urn in the closet. Why?"

Because there is fur on my tongue. 

"Kelly Dear sit up now  and take off your shirt before i saran your head."

But I - eeeeyowww!!

Arguing with Liza is pointless. She reaches into your brain and you end up arguing with yourself. Kinda like how a certain champagne sipping auctioneer i know gets me to bid against myself. Awesome another 300 dollar gift basket to never re-gift. Not doing as Liza says is also pointless. It is hard on both your ears and your self-esteem. Kinda like listening to the clerk at Bikini Village tell you 'But it is an extra large top' as your nipples surf out over it. Awesome another day swimming in six bathing suits and a T-shirt.

"OMG" says Liza as i finally sit up and peel off my sweat soaked t-shirt."Ethyl is black. You look like an Oreo and a Floatie had a baby."  She peeled off another foot of saran wrap and embalmed Ethyl. "No time for a shower - just get your b-suits on and go downstairs-the girls are here."


"Yay gay people!!" 

And indeed they were. Dressed in different but identical short and t-shirt combos, sensible shoes, short cropped hair do's perfectly styled, all shiney nosed from sunblock
and staring at me like i was a car accident. 

Now to put the following exchange in context - we have been friends on and off for well over 20 years. Sometimes really off and now thankfully - more on than ever. 

"You look like shit. "I feel like shit." 
"Why are you so pale?" "I probably have cancer"
"Why are you so pale?" " I already had skin cancer"
"Oh that sucks."  - pause - " i think this might suck more"


Now please picture an episode of Ellen that has something to do with dead puppies, lost kittens, and the guest is Celine Dion. Keep imagining. Bette Midler makes a guest appearance and sings wind beneath my wings. 


Enter Liza. 


"Girls. Enough. ( said with 3 E's) Stop crying. Open the Veuve and get in the pool."
"Now."


"Finally Kelly, someone who gets you."  

"Yes" i said meekly. "Kinda like you guys do."
 




























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8/27/2014

Sisters or Sistah's - Either way Family is Family

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So i have had the biopsy - lunch on the best patio - with the best people - and on the way home Liza tells me " Yes really, all the sisters are coming over later - All three of them.- And yes i will get more tylenol."


I have a biological sister. But i use that term lightly. I think she may be part machine. There may be absolutely zero things on the planet that she has not seen, tried or done. All of which she does extremely well.  I'm bored i think i'll  get a math degree. Oh then a Masters. Egypt? sure lets go - learn to paint - ok can i teach it now? Sports? Sure - umm why are you putting a band aid on your tennis ball? Oh your leg is bleeding too? No problem i worked in Emerg for centuries. Pass me that trombone - but don't step on my shooting trophies - or else. Cancer?  That sucks. Call me when you need me. Love you.

Actually, in loving retrospect, i think i do know one thing my beloved sissy - who is also my oldest living relative - can't do - and that is - 

Sneak up on a Lear Jet. Mind you i can't either…and my family nick name is mouse.

Sisters have an energy about them. Liza's have an energy about them that if harnessed could stop the need for freaking fracking. Liza alone is a bizarre combination of Oprah, DonaldTrump - with way way better hair and Chelsea Handler. Oh and a little Dr. Suess.

So in preparation for the sister invasion Liza has me wadded up in towels and ice, seated in the recliner, juice box ready. Now remember, Ethyl has just been attacked by a box cutter, a knitting needle, and a back hoe. Swelling they said? Myrtle, who was always the big sister looked like sloppy floppy tiny piece of pale pepperoni pizza and Ethyl - well an over-inflated volleyball with the bladder and the pin hanging out. Hot.

Enter the 3 sisters. scene: a blonde - with now a ginger - a brunette and a black curly haired rake. All incredibly smart, athletic- two at a world class level, artistic, super humans - three of which are away from their kids and the husbands. I hid my juice box.

For the next 3 hours - they lasted 6 more - i was overwhelmed with the power and the gentleness of sister love - and yes it got creepy when one said i was like the 5th sister - 5th wheel in the corner yes - and sistah for sure - but - but what i was missing was that they were trying to make me feel like family. To include me - scary thing is - i liked it.

For hours they talked at me, with me, to me, about me, and shared stories and emotions with each other that i cannot even imagine having.  I am not straight. i am not married. I have never lost a pregnancy. I never shared a room - nor been arrested -  but

 i too have been depressed scared sick angry lost hurt lonely worried pained and alone. In fact i am kinda feeling all those things right now as i type this. Tears in my herpes. ow

So after my Juice box, and a tylenol from each them i had the courage to answer the question  "What can we do for you?" 

I want to be "Auntie Kelly." 


It is always Auntie Liza and Kelly. I act like - live like and love like i am Auntie Kelly - so i wanna be. That is what i want. I need. To really feel that my relationship is real. That all our relationships are real without having to be married. 

It was a little hard to say. It was a little hard to hear. Different values. Different Ideas. Different pain tolerances. So i faded away to sleep not really knowing… weeks passed..

But then it happened.  -  While in Vegas - We bought little safari outfits for the kids. Hats vests - classic Mutual of Omaha Wild Kingdom style - and took them over to one of the sisters.  As the bags emptied onto the deck and hats popped onto heads - i heard in squealing delight - 

"Thank you Auntie Kelly!!"  - now that is what cures cancer - and puts a grin on a face that not even cupcake hugs on a brand new Lacoste can erase. 



































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8/16/2014

Round 2 Close ups and personal

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After taking deep breaths it is very important to exhale. Otherwise you faint. Fainting while ones' Myrtle is face down getting her round two up close glamour shots in essentially a glass fish tank is slightly painful. Kinda like closing the sun roof on just one hair and trying to jump out of the car. One should never hang from ones Myrtle even if it is just for a quick blurr of the room. 

Thankfully, The girls were back in the kind but chilly hands of the same fabulous technician who had taken my first round images and she got me back to blinking. She also got me back on my feet to face what was coming next... but having her help me this day was not by chance...

Small towns have many disadvantages, but small towns with pubs solve most of those.

After what we are calling round one, Liza and I went to our local living room to make what I call bad choices.

"Big girl or little girl?" code for how much wine I am planning on drinking. I chose little girl but by the time I had told my tale I had emptied one for each of girls in Facts of Life -  with two for Blair because that is the only way handle that beeotch - and I had an ally.  A super nice ally. A super nice connected ally who would help us prep for round two.  -and line up the same gal to do them. After all, we'd been to second base together and like most players on my team I am a serial monogamist. That and I really did not want scrape off my shoes again.

However...

Guitar picks and sea monkeys require excessive scientific experiments. Excessive scientific experiments like enhanced images, ultra sounds and biopsies take time to arrange. Thank god I have adhd. I do not understand time. I just know that stuff happens and the weather changes.

19 days - we waited.

Lotsa stuff happened but the weather didn't change. It was still crappy.

So on their round two call back Ethyl and Myrtle were greeted by name at the desk. I was handed a paperbag with a whole big girl in it called Lucky Stones, a lovely card, and Twins named Stella. Crying at 9am in public takes getting used to. So does hugging. And letting people care for you. But I am trying.

So this time I rocked the waiting room, sporting super gay wonder woman converse, a big grin and properly fitting gown. What I didn't rock was the close ups.

Peter, Paul and Scary Mary were huge. It was 1977  big screen Star Wars. There was the Millennium Falcon front and center surrounded by space cancer. My breath went into hyper drive. I was heaving and my little heart was having a Tiesto dance party. I was not running red lights but I was seeing them.

 My super Tech peeled me off the plates. Who knew boobs could sweat so much? She was telling me a great story about her kid and how cool they were... which helped put me back together.

Super Tech helped me into the gown, " Here, you put it on like a coat" and walked me out to the waiting room. I was sheet white, sore and scared. She patted me on the back - and told Liza to take me for a drink.

"Do you mind if I change first." I asked. " I may have peed my pants."

Super Tech laughed. Liza rolled her eyes.

"Seriously, go for a glass of wine and bring her back in a hour- but just a little girl"









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8/13/2014

I Thought my shoes would give it away

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I got called into the inner chamber of boob doom next. It was dimly lit and housed what  I can vaguely describe as a  humongous 1954 white and glass wringer washer, two chairs and a crooked bulletin board.

My host asked me to sit and began to ask me questions from her clipboard. Her tone had all the enthusiasm of a 98 year old bingo caller and she did not make eye contact. Once we got thru all the data of my being she asked the question - the dreaded question.

"Is there any chance you could be pregnant?" Nervous laughter. From me.

"Uhhhh nope - not a chance"  She made direct eye contact. " Are you sure?"

I am now crimson. And giggling.

 "OH ya I am so sure." ( inner voice of horror -  I am going to have to explain why - I am gonna have to tell her.. this is so awkward...)

"Mnnn.  Did your husband have a vauscitonjkjkjskjfk......? " (what is that? a vasc??? husband?? oh god. it's now or never - )

"It's a girl!!" I was shouting.

She is now standing and staring at me.  "I thought you said you were not pregnant!?"

I have gone from crimson to flaming red and am now flailing my arms and stuttering loudly.

"No No I am not - My husband is a girl. He's a girl"  This went over the cliff like Thelma and Louise.

"oh OH OHH - So you are a lesbian. " said my host who was joining me in turning a variety of colours. I panicked. My brain left the room. My mouth took over.

"Lesbian? Well yes - but no - Gay - oh god - Lesbian always sounds like something you stepped in - 'oh no I have lesbian on my shoe!!' I then mimed scraping the lesbian off the bottom of my shoe.

I have never seen anyone's face fall off quite the way hers did. She looked happy and dead at the same time. I could not get my stick on the ice. I was so embarrassed. We both were. But she had a glint in her eye as she gave me a warm consoling smile and put down the clipboard.

"I am so sorry" I said, " I thought the shoes would give it away."  I looked down at the floor.

" Its ok" She said, "I don't really pay that much attention to that area -  I kinda focus my attention on the waist up."

"Me too" I grinned back.

Then we both laughed our guts out and spent the next 20 minutes making pancakes, panini's and smores out of my breasts.










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