a minor medical adventure

A couple of weeks ago, I discovered a lump on my shoulder. It's on my right shoulder, about 1cm long, mobile, firm but not hard, and not painful at all. It reminded me of the lipomas that my Puppigrrl used to grow in great numbers on her chest when she reached middle age. Shoulder cancer?

It took me two weeks to remember to call Dr. Funnyname's office, but they agreed to see me the next day, to my relief. Said he, It's a synovial cyst. It turns out that the sacs of synovial fluid in the joints between your bones can get a small piece pinched off of them by repeated stress. That piece is then a cyst.

He described treatment, which is basically removing* them, but they typically only do that in cases where it's interfering with a patient's life. Mine definitely isn't; I'm not even all that sure how long it's been there. I asked Dr. Funnyname if such cysts ever go away on their own. "Maybe," he said.

I typically wear my purse across my body with the strap on my right shoulder. I have a good-sized bag with lots of stuff in it that I don't use very often. I might want to change that up.



*Usually, lancing them only makes them go away temporarily.

Nun tears up Capitol Hill with Comfy Lady.

A couple of weeks ago, Comfy Lady asked me on a date. I've so often been the instigator of dates with all the dysphoria that entails that I find it really, really nice when other women ask me out. Plus, the main attraction did actually sound like tons of fun: a documentary called "Sirens" at Northwest Film Forum, as part of the Sundance festival. It's about young women who've formed metal band – in Beirut.

The producer and director, a youngish woman of Moroccan extraction who lives in (Where else?) LA, said that she wanted to make a movie that wasn't about all the bad stuff about the Middle East. Wayell, she didn't succeed at that entirely because she's reasonably honest. An example: the explosion in the port of Beirut that killed over 200 people happened during filming, and it absolutely did affect the lives of everyone involved in the film. It would have been hard not to show that. But all credit to the filmmakers and editors for coming up with some beautiful cinema, like the time two of our metalheads are talking about hooking up at a party when a protest just happens to sweep right past them, so they join it. I couldn't shake the anxiety that Beirut's present might be what our future looks like: cultural repression and lethal corruption on a massive scale.

One more thing about that movie: it contains an astounding amount of code-switching between Arabic and English. Half the time I didn't need the subtitles. I couldn't help but wonder if they were doing that for audiences' benefit, because the filmmakers and subjects are all native Arabic speakers.

But! Back to Comfy Lady & me. Late Thai dinner at Bai Tong, which she likes more than I do*. Walking around, noticing how many business still haven't extended their hours to pre-pandemic lateness or earliness. Otherwise, activity on the Hill looked as though it has returned to the levels immediately pre-omicron.

Comfy Lady & I hit the Wildrose at her suggestion. We had drinks in the dark back corner and watched the astoundingly young-looking sweet thangs on the dance floor. Really, I have to fight the urge to ask them, "How are you legal?! Have you done your homework, young lady? And are you into women over twice your age?"

Comfy Lady had a brunch date with an old friend this morning, so no sleepover. But I did get to engage in some real talk with CL about bits of crumminess in my week, which is why she's so comfy. There shall be more dates soon, oh yes, there shall.



*My fave Thai joint? Thaiku, which is a short walk from my place. I ♥ my neighborhood so hard.