Loplop Introduces Loplop who in turn introduces more Loplop

Woke up yesterday morning, took a shower, got dressed, stuffed a bag full of necessaries, sat down at the computer and promptly developed back pain. Good times!

Doctor says it’s stress. Lots of stress. Wonder why I’m under stress? Oh, yeah… Tumors!

Saw the doctor in McAllen. Got a second opinion. Turns out that Loplop is not one tumor, but three. Loplop introduces Loplop and Loplop. Max Ernst has a wonderful painting which illustrates my dilemma:

Loplop Introduces Loplop

There’s Loplop, introducing Loplop. Granted, I require one more level of Loplop-edness, but until Max Ernst returns from the dead to paint another one, this is the best I got.

McAllen doctor did the ultrasound himself, instead of relegating the duty to a technician. Which I thought was nice. Although, having an intra-vaginal (::shudder::) ultrasound is not really pleasant. Even when the doctor is being enthusiastic about pointing out the large mass eclipsing all my baby-making parts. The best part was my father’s face throughout this whole procedure. He stood by me, angled in such a way as to not see the good-looking man wielding the penetrating camera wand inside, and held my hand. Squeezing as the doctor said, “you see this giant black thing here? That’s your tumor! Oh, wait. It’s three tumors!”

So, instead of a giant big thing of doom, I have two large-esque things and one tiny thing. Surgery is being schedule for Monday. Tomorrow I got to the hospital to pick up my “orders.” It’s like I’m being shipped out. Have I mentioned that vertical motion is a little impossible right now. Because I’m stressed. Because I have Tumors! Hoorah!

I’m trying to finish up my syllabus as well as some other things I figure I should have done. Just in case I enter into a giant coma and someone else has to teach my class. Although I don’t actually think I’ll enter a coma, even though I did skim through Robin Cook’s book Coma today. I suppose I should tell my parents to move the shelf of medical thrillers to another room. Seriously. This stuff isn’t scary enough without Robin Cook spoiling my jovial mood.

Otherwise, things are all right. I got Twitter. Even though I’m not sure I understand the point. It’s like a facebook status generator. I’ve been playing with my new phone and new applications make me happy, even though I’ll probably never use them. Such is my love of technology.

Anyway. My friend Daymon is coming over and we’re going to watch Sick, a documentary about a guy that uses S&M to deal with his excruciating pain. Another uplifting story. For sure.