Roots Radical
It's funny sometimes what will take you back to your roots. My particular seed sprouted in North Carolina, but my mother was born and raised in western Kentucky, and Kentucky is where I planted most of my roots. Living there for the most impressionable years in my life (from 9th grade to college graduation), it is in Kentucky where I came into my own, and where I consider myself to be "from."
Anyway, my mom comes from a long line of some back-ass-woods country people, too nice to for me to call redneck, but very much the kind who would sport "Aint Skeered" stickers on their old pick-up trucks and give their kids nicknames like "Peanut," "Tojo," "Mary Maggot," and "Fuzzynuts." Yes, that's my family. They're good people, for the most part (of course there the spoons in every family who like to keep the shit stirred), and now that I live almost 600 miles away I can truly enjoy the family get-togethers that I'm able to attend. I cherish the memories of catching lightning bugs with cousins and drinking bottles of Dr. Pepper, which my Grandpa told me was made from prunes, on the front porch swing of his and my Grandma's house. As we've grown up, though, several of the cousins I was closest to have gone different ways than I, and my Grandparents have been dead for nearly a decade.
Having missed my mom's call on Monday, I decided to phone her on my way home from work (yes, I talk while I drive--for fuck's sake, it's an hour commute!). She had gone to her hometown over the weekend to put flowers on her folks' graves for Memorial Day and to see some of her siblings. It's always fun to hear what the relatives are up to nowadays, so I listened intently as she relayed all of the current family gossip. So-and-so is pregnant, so-and-so has three kids now, cousin-blah-blah is working at the Purdue Chicken plant, so-and-so's wife is antisocial, cousin-whatever's kids are completely out of control, etc.
She never mentioned if my sister (older by 17-months) and her husband and their son had gone with her, but considering my mother won't go 15 minutes without talking about my nephew, I figure the family got enough of him at least through conversation. She did say at some point in the day nearly every person had asked her about me giving her some grandkids, which made me laugh. I don't want human children (nor does the Hub), and apparently my mom just told those who asked that my Hub and I aren't planning on having any.
One of my crazy cousins in particular wanted to press the issue, though. She and I were the terrible twosome back in the day, but since she dropped out of school and popped out a couple of kids and took up in a single-wide with some boyfriend and got fired from the Purdue Chicken plant, etc, we really haven't been much in contact (um, we really don't have much in common now, you know?).
But like I was saying, she wouldn't take my mother's "drop the subject" hints.
Let me interject by saying that my mother is not happy about my upcoming hysterectomy. Honestly, she's handling it worse than I am, possibly because I'm in denial and ignorant (for the most part) about what to expect with the surgery. She's worried, as any mom would be, and though she knows that the Hub and I don't want human kids, I think that she's a bit disappointed. I'm not sure why, considering I was her problem child (to say the least), but whatever. She's also concerned about how I'm going to handle the surgery itself--she's had 3 cesarean sections, so she knows almost exactly what's going to be taking place (they're having to do an abdominal hysterectomy on me b/c I haven't had children or been pregnant and thus my uterus is still up high in my body).
That being said, let me also explain that if you ever meet my mother and begin to embark on an issue that she prefers to be left alone, take her hints and change the subject. She will give indications that the conversation is not to her liking--she's got a Southern woman's grace about things and will tend to behave in such a manner right up till the point where she introduces the passive-aggressive bitch that will sit your ass on the sharp side of an up-ended barstool before you feel the breeze go by. I know, because I've seen her do it (and been the recipient more times than I'd like to go into).
Okay, so mood set. She's bristled by my cousin's insistence in talking about why I'm not going to have any kids.
My cousin asked her again, "So when's Dora gonna have you some grandbabies?"
"Well, it's not in her plan," my mom answered (see, Southern grace).
"You mean, she ain't gonna have no younguns? I cain't believe thayut."
I can only imagine my mother's facial expression when she countered, "No. She's not going to have any children. Dora has cervical cancer and will be having a hysterectomy in July."
From what my mom told me, silence fell upon the whole lot of them.
"Dora," my mother laughed over the phone, "You could've knocked 'em over with a feather!"
I was roaring to the point that I noticed I was, ahem, exceeding the speed limit.
"Mom, you're so mean. You know cousin retard doesn't know what a hysterectomy is," I said, trying to breathe.
"Oh, hush," she told me, "It just serves them right for getting into your business."
(Um, okay, like we had not just been gossiping about all of them for the last 20 minutes or more?)
Anyway, it was probably a whole lot funnier with my mom's country drawl and knowing how uppity she can be sometimes. She did make sure to let me know that she did tell them that the Hub and I do have children, just of the creature-sort.
"And I told them how much money you spent on having your lizard's penis fixed," she added.
Oh, for fuck's sake. I wonder what they're saying about me now? The crazy cousin who has to have her lizard's penis lopped off? Sheesh.
{To set the record straight, I don't have cervical cancer right now--leave it to my mother to call in the drama. In 2003, I had to have a procedure done to remove cancer cells and high-grade precancerous cells from my cervix, and after only 3 pap-smears, the abnormality has recurred. This time my doctor said that it's mid-grade precancerous dysplasia, but that abnormal cells were also found in the biopsies that he took from the inner part of my cervix. So, it's invasive this time. Hence, the hysterectomy. Instead of going through more procedures and more pap-smears every 3 or 6 months and more biopsies and poking and prodding and putting my feet in those goddam stirrups, the hysterectomy is really the best option (for both short and long term). I'm still going to have my ovaries, which don't work very much but will hopefully keep me from going through early menopause. And I guess I will have to put my feet in those goddam stirrups still, because they'll have take a small swab of the tissue of my upper vaginal wall for my well-woman exams every year to make sure that the cells around the previously affected area are still okay. But in any case, to my friends who may read this, don't freak out--everything's going to be fine (especially if I can convince myself of that!).}
Anyway, my mom comes from a long line of some back-ass-woods country people, too nice to for me to call redneck, but very much the kind who would sport "Aint Skeered" stickers on their old pick-up trucks and give their kids nicknames like "Peanut," "Tojo," "Mary Maggot," and "Fuzzynuts." Yes, that's my family. They're good people, for the most part (of course there the spoons in every family who like to keep the shit stirred), and now that I live almost 600 miles away I can truly enjoy the family get-togethers that I'm able to attend. I cherish the memories of catching lightning bugs with cousins and drinking bottles of Dr. Pepper, which my Grandpa told me was made from prunes, on the front porch swing of his and my Grandma's house. As we've grown up, though, several of the cousins I was closest to have gone different ways than I, and my Grandparents have been dead for nearly a decade.
Having missed my mom's call on Monday, I decided to phone her on my way home from work (yes, I talk while I drive--for fuck's sake, it's an hour commute!). She had gone to her hometown over the weekend to put flowers on her folks' graves for Memorial Day and to see some of her siblings. It's always fun to hear what the relatives are up to nowadays, so I listened intently as she relayed all of the current family gossip. So-and-so is pregnant, so-and-so has three kids now, cousin-blah-blah is working at the Purdue Chicken plant, so-and-so's wife is antisocial, cousin-whatever's kids are completely out of control, etc.
She never mentioned if my sister (older by 17-months) and her husband and their son had gone with her, but considering my mother won't go 15 minutes without talking about my nephew, I figure the family got enough of him at least through conversation. She did say at some point in the day nearly every person had asked her about me giving her some grandkids, which made me laugh. I don't want human children (nor does the Hub), and apparently my mom just told those who asked that my Hub and I aren't planning on having any.
One of my crazy cousins in particular wanted to press the issue, though. She and I were the terrible twosome back in the day, but since she dropped out of school and popped out a couple of kids and took up in a single-wide with some boyfriend and got fired from the Purdue Chicken plant, etc, we really haven't been much in contact (um, we really don't have much in common now, you know?).
But like I was saying, she wouldn't take my mother's "drop the subject" hints.
Let me interject by saying that my mother is not happy about my upcoming hysterectomy. Honestly, she's handling it worse than I am, possibly because I'm in denial and ignorant (for the most part) about what to expect with the surgery. She's worried, as any mom would be, and though she knows that the Hub and I don't want human kids, I think that she's a bit disappointed. I'm not sure why, considering I was her problem child (to say the least), but whatever. She's also concerned about how I'm going to handle the surgery itself--she's had 3 cesarean sections, so she knows almost exactly what's going to be taking place (they're having to do an abdominal hysterectomy on me b/c I haven't had children or been pregnant and thus my uterus is still up high in my body).
That being said, let me also explain that if you ever meet my mother and begin to embark on an issue that she prefers to be left alone, take her hints and change the subject. She will give indications that the conversation is not to her liking--she's got a Southern woman's grace about things and will tend to behave in such a manner right up till the point where she introduces the passive-aggressive bitch that will sit your ass on the sharp side of an up-ended barstool before you feel the breeze go by. I know, because I've seen her do it (and been the recipient more times than I'd like to go into).
Okay, so mood set. She's bristled by my cousin's insistence in talking about why I'm not going to have any kids.
My cousin asked her again, "So when's Dora gonna have you some grandbabies?"
"Well, it's not in her plan," my mom answered (see, Southern grace).
"You mean, she ain't gonna have no younguns? I cain't believe thayut."
I can only imagine my mother's facial expression when she countered, "No. She's not going to have any children. Dora has cervical cancer and will be having a hysterectomy in July."
From what my mom told me, silence fell upon the whole lot of them.
"Dora," my mother laughed over the phone, "You could've knocked 'em over with a feather!"
I was roaring to the point that I noticed I was, ahem, exceeding the speed limit.
"Mom, you're so mean. You know cousin retard doesn't know what a hysterectomy is," I said, trying to breathe.
"Oh, hush," she told me, "It just serves them right for getting into your business."
(Um, okay, like we had not just been gossiping about all of them for the last 20 minutes or more?)
Anyway, it was probably a whole lot funnier with my mom's country drawl and knowing how uppity she can be sometimes. She did make sure to let me know that she did tell them that the Hub and I do have children, just of the creature-sort.
"And I told them how much money you spent on having your lizard's penis fixed," she added.
Oh, for fuck's sake. I wonder what they're saying about me now? The crazy cousin who has to have her lizard's penis lopped off? Sheesh.
{To set the record straight, I don't have cervical cancer right now--leave it to my mother to call in the drama. In 2003, I had to have a procedure done to remove cancer cells and high-grade precancerous cells from my cervix, and after only 3 pap-smears, the abnormality has recurred. This time my doctor said that it's mid-grade precancerous dysplasia, but that abnormal cells were also found in the biopsies that he took from the inner part of my cervix. So, it's invasive this time. Hence, the hysterectomy. Instead of going through more procedures and more pap-smears every 3 or 6 months and more biopsies and poking and prodding and putting my feet in those goddam stirrups, the hysterectomy is really the best option (for both short and long term). I'm still going to have my ovaries, which don't work very much but will hopefully keep me from going through early menopause. And I guess I will have to put my feet in those goddam stirrups still, because they'll have take a small swab of the tissue of my upper vaginal wall for my well-woman exams every year to make sure that the cells around the previously affected area are still okay. But in any case, to my friends who may read this, don't freak out--everything's going to be fine (especially if I can convince myself of that!).}
posted by Dora Maar at 7:06 AM
4 Comments:
Oh man. I haven't seen my Kentucky cousins in ages!! I need to get back there for a visit at some point too.
Strange. Just two nights ago, one of my students (a really sweet girl trying to get her shit together) told me she had cervical cancer. Kind of frightening. She's about four months older than I am. I'm glad I'm not a female, considering all the female members of my family's gynecological problems. None of my female relatives has their reproductive organs intact. All have had hysterectomies due to cancer/precancerous conditions. As my younger female cousins started going through puberty, it was constant trips the the ummm "Cooterologist" for cysts, etc.
If i had any of that stuff up in me, I'd have cut it out my DAMNED self.
So, obviously, I'm still scared and do the self-test on my balls (DAILY) *wink*
John
It's amazing how many women my age and thereabouts are going through this same thing. Two of my close friends, three women I used to work with, at least one friend from high-school (the only one I keep in touch with), and numerous others (including my sister and two of our cousins) have dealt with this in their recent past.
I'm beginning to think there was something to that email-chain-letter (that I got like 7 years ago when I was in college) about carcenogenic tampons. Who knows?
And keep on inspecting those balls!
~Dora
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