Thyroid Cancer. I googled it because I've been terrified all week about my biopsy. I have Hashimoto's disease, which means my thyroid is pretty much inactive and I have all of these little nodules in my neck. One of them is troubling because it's pretty sizable and my endocrinologist ordered a fine needle aspiration to retrieve cells from the thyroid to make sure they're benign. I waited in his office today for an hour. How can you make someone wait on pins and needles for an hour? Whatever words that would come out of his mouth would greatly affect me. He came in and reported that the cells that they retrieved were not thyroid cells, just blood cells, etc. They didn't have what they needed. WHAT?!
I did not compose myself at that point. I was so wired emotionally and I had just sat there to find out nothing. I could have received that lack of information over the phone and I thought he should know. I fussed at my doctor. I had never done that before. His response was to re-explain my condition and mine was to tell him I understood the condition, just not his protocol. I told him that I didn't appreciate waiting and paying $35 and writing sub plans for my students and using one of my sick days and not having enough money for the parking garage and having to scrounge for pennies in my car and arriving at 7:50 to be seen at 9:05! I was miffed. I still am.
My options are to have another FNA done in the same exact spot, which, by the way, is still bruised a week later, or to monitor it over time with sonograms. It's all just something that I wish would go away.

When I left the doctor's office, I drove through downtown and spotted a legless man wheeling himself along the sidewalk with a huge smile on his face. I'm going to be fine.

Cisneros.
Kane shared one of her poems with me today. I love that I can be in the midst of menial, everyday tasks and Boom! poetry is in my hands and it moves me and I swim in the words and I want to reread it.

Sandra Cisneros is also quite real.

Kane's assignment was to use her piece as a model to write a similar poem of his own history, interests, qualities. In his typical teenage reaction, he asked me to google it since he didn't feel like digging it out of his backpack again. The poem is You Bring Out the Mexican in Me.
Anyway, here's my inspired poem:

You bring out the yat in me.
When the bile in my gut brews
and words from my mouth spew
The yat in me can he heard
No g for my -ing endin'
I hear Kimberle curse Louie
and David's pretendin'
You bring out the yat in me
Now that I'm here, awol, overboard
Slashed the umbilical cord
You bring out the yat in me
When we eat at a franchise or
the same ol' chinese buffet,
I want fried oysters, boiled crabs,
shrimp po-boys and etouffee
You bring out the yat in
this suburban straight-lace
Dancing at the screen door
Look into her tired face
A dancer no more
You bring it out of me
The yat in me
right below the surface, 

seeping through each pore
My city, not just location, not just lore
It's in me! It's alive
Oft I wish to abort it, but it's mine.
Life would be easier without the yat in me.
There's labor in living with memory.

Painting by Pablo Picasso

Billie Burke. I'm watching Father's Little Dividends with Spencer Tracy and Elizabeth Taylor. The mother-in-law's voice was so Glinda the Good Witch from The Wizard of Oz that I had to google it. I was right! This old movie was a diversion from what I've really been watching all night: Anderson Cooper's coverage of New Orleans during these crucial hours of the storm. It now looks like Gustav is shifting west, so it might not be a direct hit. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. My toes, too.
My mom now has company, which makes me feel a little better. My very loquacious cousin is pacing around her place right now. I pity her. I envy him. I miss hurricane parties. They're just not parties anymore... not since Katrina. They used to be flickering flames from Saint candles, cans of Vienna sausage, dark skies, cool winds, populated porches, swinging screen doors, storytelling and reminiscing, and that sense of adventure because we were going to ride this one out. I miss my family. There's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place like home.

What Category?

I web stalked myself again today. This happens when I sit in coffee shops, wondering about the people back home. What are they doing now? Could they contact me if they wanted to?

Actually, no one back home is worrying about me or anything else trivial. Gustav is now a Category 4 and headed to the Gulf. My family keeps calling. They're evacuating, not evacuating, waiting, worrying, wondering. I also googled wwl to watch live coverage. Nagin was at the train station downtown. They're definitely smarter this time around. Stores are boarded, busses and trains are full of citizens without the "wherewithal"and en route to Tennessee. I feel sad. I should be there with them. Their trials should be my trials. Their city should be my city. I am lost, regardless of whether anyone can web find me or not.

Twenty-three Years Ago

The Color Purple is on WE TV tonight. I googled the movie to see when it premiered. It was 1985. I was in fourth grade. Regis and my dad took me, Mary, and Shay to the theater near Lakeside Mall on Vets. Afterwards, they treated us to Luther's Barbecue. It was the first and only time I'd stepped foot in the place. I couldn't tell you one detail about its atmosphere. My eyes swelled with tears for hours after Celie and Nettie reunited. It was so bad that I remember Regis and my dad getting pretty fed up with me. I couldn't control it. Two years later, the movie was on at my best friend Heather's house. Again, I cried and cried. Heather and her other friend Vicky left me on the couch as they went off to her room to listen to Poison cassettes on her boom box. They didn't get it.
Now I watch it and see the nuances of Danny Glover's character and feel a mother's love for Adam and Olivia and wonder where Shay and Mary are and wonder how I got here to 31 years in a city in which I never sought to live.
When I was in fourth grade, my teacher was Myrtis Dennis. I thought about her today as I set up my fourth grade classroom. I thought of her again tonight when I heard Shug Avery sing. Mrs. Dennis was my choir director. She had this voice. Even her speaking voice commanded attention, but not in an authoritative way. There was something about her style, her soul. She passed almost two years ago. I'll have to invoke her spirit this year. I'll try to be a Myrtis Dennis for my own fourth graders.
On Saturday, September 13th I will be at the Majestic Theater watching Oprah's Broadway production. The second they went on sale, I bought one ticket. Just one. That way, I can cry as much as I want and no one will have to deal with me.

Jelly

Today I googled my local movie theater to check out the selection. There are some flicks Kane and I can't see without Brenner getting jelly. He still wants us all to see Kung Fu Panda! We decided on Pineapple Express. I don't think I laughed so hard at a movie since the marmot jumped in the bath water with Jeff Bridges, "The Dude", in The Big Lebowski.
It's a rare rainy day here and I have to report to duty on Thursday. I'm glad the custodians are waxing the fourth grade wing today while Kane strums his guitar and I boil some eggs for my canned spinach ( a week-long craving now) and watch the Olympics. Otherwise, I'd be laminating and stapling posters to my bulletin boards.
Brenner got over the fact that we saw a movie without him, but now he has declared that he and Kane are going to a Chinese buffet while I meet up with my new colleagues for a small gathering. Huh.

It's A Wonder

Today Brenner and I watched Cash Cab on the Discovery Channel, so I googled quite a few things. He, however, would make a killing. The passenger/contestant had to name the ancient wonder of the world that still stands today. Did you know that there are ancient wonders, medieval wonders, and modern wonders? The seven ancient wonders are:

Great Pyramid of Giza
Temple of Artemis at Ephesus
Colossus of Rhodes
Hanging Gardens of Babylon
Statue of Zeus at Olympus
Lighthouse of Alexandria
Mausoleum of Maussollos at Halicarnassus

The one still standing? Great Pyramid at Giza.

The real wonder... that these two are still together.