in other news ...

Lucy Magillicutty

It has been an interesting week with at least one of us getting enough sleep.

After looking at the costs to get my truck on its feet (so to speak) and in a passable inspection status, I came to the conclusion that it was not going to be financially feasible.  

Tires alone after mounting and balancing would be roughly $600.  The windshield has a crack and needs to be replaced, which insurance will cover after a deductible of $75, however, before they will replace it, the rust along the top of the windshield frame will need to be sanded and welded so there are no leaks.  That could cost anywhere from $1000 to $2500.

Ouch.  I only paid $1500 for the truck, and it probably wasn't worth that.  It is a 1999 Chevy Tahoe, and every time I slammed the back doors closed a piece of the door rust fell off.  Years in Michigan's Upper Peninsula and in Wisconsin, long winters, snow, ice salt ... I'm still just so grateful that it got me here before the tires decided to blow.  I decided to sell it for scrap and bank the money I'll get for it (just a third of what I paid) for another used vehicle.

Or not ...

The MRI results were finally sent, and my doctor called to discuss them with me this afternoon.  It was not good news, but let me go back in time for a moment first...

I think I mentioned a post or two before during this adventure that I've had a hemangioma on my liver for probably decades.  It has given me elevated levels in some blood tests.  Doctors have run the test again to confirm it, then done an ultrasound and told me that it was a harmless hemangioma ~ a weird cluster of blood vessels ~ and not to worry about it.  The last ultrasound was done in 2019 in Wisconsin and the tech noted that it was 1.7 cm.

So I haven't worried about it, especially after breaking out a centimeter to inches conversion app and figuring out it was a little bit more than half an inch big.  It wasn't growing, even though my test numbers were slowly climbing.  I would forget about it until the next time it showed up on a blood test and got used to pooh-poohing it away.  It's nothing, I'd tell them, just weird old Mangi.  No need to worry.  Had it for decades.

Only this time, instead of doing an ultrasound, the CT radiologist who saw it said maybe we should do an MRI.  Just to be sure.  There's never been one done before, what the heck.  She's got insurance.  They'll pay for it (and to be clear, I had insurance all the other times too).

The weirdo is now 4cm by 6 cm, and without a biopsy (yet) to confirm, has a high probability of some type of cancer or malignancy.

There you have it.  The six-lettered C-word.  In the left lobe of my liver.  I'm waiting now to find out when a biopsy can be scheduled.  Colonoscopy has been put on pause (which honestly, I and my colon are grateful for), and I'm taking things one day at a time.

I tried to find some liver humor on WeHeartIt to just be able to throw a bit of levity in this post, but everything was either about alcoholics or Blake Lively, and I'm not really sure how she even compares to the livers of alcoholics.

Tho, her hubs, Ryan Reynolds is a co-owner of Aviation American Gin, I'm sure that is only a slim very remote connection to the livers of alcoholics. (Just kidding, Ryan, all the alcoholics I knew liked Bud Light).

Both of them are clearly gorgeous people, and I've heard that they are also very gracious and generous: helping indigenous youth with a mentorship program; homeless youth; the hungry; and hospitals.

Who am I to complain if my weirdo liver is compared to them?