November 5 – Saving Lucas

Inserted between the metal sill and the rubber frame of the window next to my seat on the train was a small envelope, like one of those that come with a gift card, on which was written a cell phone number starting with 732 and the name Lucas underneath. Perhaps some guy’s attempt to hook up with a young woman that didn’t go the way he hoped, giving her his number before he got off at his stop, and she so disinterested she left it in plain view of everyone who would come to the same conclusion as I did. Kind of sad. Lucas was publicly rejected. So without taking sides, I removed the envelope and threw it in the trash when I got off the Long Island Railroad train at Penn Station. I don’t know if I would have been so magnanimous if I had not just had some good news.

The story, because there’s always a story, starts about eight years ago back in Bayside when a small lump was discovered on my thyroid. I went to the endocrinologist, not even knowing what the hell that was, who reported to me immediately that yes indeed, there was a lump but it was too small to biopsy and I should come back in six months. Six months later it was smaller, and on my next visit a year later, it was the same. Then I moved to Brooklyn and not able to find an endocrinologist like my Bayside doctor who performed the ultrasound himself and let me know what was going on right then and there, I had to wait for the radiologist to report to the internist/endocrinologist then get in touch with her to find out that it was still the same size and was in their eyes, too small to biopsy. Then I moved to Manhattan and went to a diagnostic center. According to the new doctor I had found, who went on vacation so I had to wait quite some time for test results, the lump was still the same size and the doctor at the center was recommending a biopsy. Well two out of three doctors said too small, and there was something more pressing to take care of, so I did nothing and have not had my thyroid checked for more than two years. Where to go, what to do. I certainly didn’t want to go back to the last place.

I decided to go back to Bayside. So yesterday, I took the LIRR back to where I had not been in four and a half years. Some changes have occurred, like the noisy little diner where I would get so much writing done is now an Indian restaurant and the craft gallery where I once worked is now an empty restaurant. Yet it was a beautiful day for a stroll along the boulevards to the doctor’s office and not too long of a wait before I was brought to my room to continue to wait. And while I waited I stared at the scale thinking I should hop on as I hadn’t weighed myself since declaring I was under 145. But I have been very, very bad of late and couldn’t get myself on the scale. The doctor remembered me, though it’s been more than five years, and as we chatted he drew a vial of blood and did the ultrasound. We continued chatting until I remembered to ask him what the results were. “It’s not picking up anything,” he said. Darned thing just went away by itself after hanging out all this time.

So Lucas got lucky that I was in a jolly mood and even though he may well be the biggest jerk going, I felt enough compassion for him that I didn’t want someone with evil intent to get their hands on his phone number.

In celebration of my good news I did a full workout to Bruce’s The Wild, the Innocent & the E Street Shuffle. “Rosalita” is again my favorite Springsteen song AND my favorite song of all time, and “Kitty’s Back” is climbing up, if only I could understand the words. And because I don’t want to stare down a scale again, and lose, I will get back into a good exercise and eating routine. Well, starting Friday I guess because tomorrow is another movie with the ex day (using those leftover days) and I will be forced to eat bacon.