Thanks for seein' about a girl, friend. here's where I'm writing my own history—for you, for me and anyone else who needs to laugh to keep from cryin' every once in awhile.

Doctor, doctor, will I die?

Yesterday I had my annual physical. It was a good time. While signing in an old man sidled up so close to me and was breathing so heavily that my arm hairs were practically swaying. When I looked at him with my best "Are you aware of such a thing as personal space?" glare he responded by giving me a big ol' gapped & gold-capped smile and leaned in a little closer. I sat down.

A surprisingly short while later I was chided by the nurse for having big hair. "Still tryin' to appear a bit taller, huh? You think I won't just smash this right through your hair to get to your actual head? Congratulations, honey. Comin' in just a hair short of 5'4"."

Ha.
Ha.

An even shorter while later I found myself shivering in that baby blue paper contraption, my short legs dangling off the edge of the bed discussing my family medical history with the doctor.  A big proponent of genetic counseling, my doctor once again suggested I investigate my options. "Granted, it's a can of worms you'll sorta be opening, but it might be worth it considering your family history of cancer, high blood pressure, heart disease, strokes ..."

Sorta be opening? No.  Obtaining genetic counseling is the equivalent of ripping that can open and sticking my face in it tongue first. Do I really need confirmation that my twisted double helix has spiralled out of control?

Isn't it enough of an indication that my mother, maternal grandmother and great-grandmothers (maternal) all suffered and in some cases died from breast cancer? "Maybe," she shrugs.

I ask her if she'll prescribe the mammogram as a result of said history and she shrugs again. "I mean, you're a little young for that. We should wait until you're 30 or really 35."

And then she flipped the script a little bit with, "Do you have any kids?"
 
"No," I reply with a hint of "ew" in the tone.
 
"Well, you're 28. Are you thinking about having kids?"

"Nope" I say, legs swinging carelessly.

"Well, maybe you should because birthing children has been shown to delay or prevent breast cancer."
 
What? Wait, really?

So let me see ... I should birth some babies to possibly prevent getting cancer?

Wait, don't forget the tax break and how cute they are and how you can dress them up and how you can inadvertently teach them curse words that they'll then use to embarrass you in public. And, as life has shown me, they could come in handy when I'm old and need someone to take care of me. 

So, so far we've got a total of two, possibly three guaranteed benefits that come with having a child (at this time). Nevermind that I'll have to apply for public assistance to afford the li'l shiester and we won't even DISCUSS how this conception could possibly occur - maybe I could change my name to Mary and pray that God loves a sequel?!
 
And what about the fact that all the women before me obviously had children and wound up with breast cancer anyway? I'm thinking that going the no-kid route might place the odds in my favor, no?

If You Look Into My Life, See What I See ...

You know, I've been thinkin' ...