I don't think I have cancer

Have you ever wondered if you're a closet hypochondriac? I know that when I developed a fast-growing lump in my neck right after I came back from Cozumel, I thought for sure it was lymphoma. Panicky, I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want to jinx myself until I heard it from a doctor. Why didn't I think it might be a reaction to that jellyfish sting? My lymphoma scare was most likely triggered by knowing a friend at that time who'd had that kind of cancer in close to the same spot on his neck - which had started as a strange lump.

I also once danced with the idea that I might have had a cataract. Turns out I just had a hole in my contact lens, which I discovered just one day after my paranoia began. My mom also was going through eye trouble at the time, so it was fresh on my mind.

Then there was the time that our next-door neighbor told us that radon in her last house was what killed first her dog, then her fiance, and then gave her cancer before they realized the house was full of radon... Of course, I ran out and got a test kit immediately - even though my house was only two years old. And then I began questioning my tiredness over the previous weeks. Could cancer be wearing me down? How about those headaches I'd had? No radon. No cancer. Just some speculation.

This morning, I went to my 6-week postpartum checkup. When the doc asked if I had any concerns, I said, "Yeah, it's about a lump. It rolls when you press it and it's scary." She immediately thought breast, but then I explained it's on my back - kind of by my shoulder blade. I know it's not her area of expertise, but at least she could tell me if she suggests I go see someone whose area it is.

She matter-of-factly told me I have a muscle knot. Then she jokingly asked if DH has been slacking on his duties as the husband to a wife who's just given birth. I couldn't help but roll my eyes. I couldn't even talk him into a back rub while I was IN the hospital, much less since I've been home.

Anyway, besides the knot, all is good. I'm still one pound heavier than when I found out I was pregnant, which means I'll be eating more carrots and less cookies to keep me going in the weeks ahead. And then someday soon, when I have a hubby around to help a little bit, I can actually make the time to cook and eat the stuff I really like (ahem - I miss having a griller in the house). If nothing else, I'll likely be able to dance off that last pound at the in-laws' wedding in a week and a half.

On a side note, I think that knowing the numbers of your weight is so extremely depressing. I have never owned my own scale, and except during pregnancies, I have never looked at the weight at the doctor's office. I even ask the nurse to not say it aloud because I'd simply rather not know. I prefer instead to go by how my clothes look and feel, and by paying attention to what kinds of foods are in my diet - I'm not into low-carb or high-protien, etc., but rather just heart healthy. But in hearing how some of my friends and family (and the media) obsess over a pound here and a pound there, oy, I think I'm alone in my avoidance of knowing. Oh well.