I may have the upper hand when it comes to nutrition and exercise, but my mom certainly does know her way around a stack of MRI slides.
"Looks fine," she said on Monday, as she held the images up to the sunlight.
And on Wednesday, that's what the doctor said too. Of course he said a few other things as well, the main issue being that the stand-off in communication continues with my pituitary and my thyroid and that he will continue to throw a boatload of synthetic hormones into my body in an effort to foster good feelings between those two glands. I guess it's true: I really do avoid confrontation at all costs, and on all levels.
As for my mom, I have a renewed appreciation for her optimism and intuition. I left the house this morning convinced that I had a malignant tumor the size of Canada in my head. She shook her head again. "I just don't think so."
I hardly ever say this, but it's certainly a profound statement today: I should listen to my mother more often.