I keep asking myself what my purpose is in starting a blog, especially given my hesitance to hand out a lot of personal information. What if someone I know and love is upset by something I write? What if I sound like an idiot? What if I'm even more boring than I thought? Who the hell is going to care about anything I have to say?

Anyway. I'm just pissed at life right now, don't mind me.

And the bra was behind the toilet. I have NO idea why. I found it while rummaging through the Stack of Stuff that apparently lives next to our toilet in the master bathroom. In a laughable attempt at "organization", one of us sorted a collection of hair products, antiperspirants, lotions & such into a plastic basket-type thing especially designed to Collect Your Crap and make you think you're ORGANIZED.

In reality, what it is was seed for the Clutter Monster. Someone (could be me, could be husband), set said basket thingie on the floor next to the toilet. This provided a sensible place to start STACKING things. (not me. So not me.) Newspapers especially, but lots of other things find their way to The Stack. (aww who am I kidding, my entire house is a Stack.) And so it was that I tackled said Stack in an attempt to locate an antiperspirant that might be worth a damn, since I'm having hot flashes worthy of a Saharan heat wave.

And that's when I found the bra. Also one of my husband's forgotten deodorants, since he's now on this Natural Mineral Stone Instead of Anti-Stink Stuff kick. "Wild Rain"????? Who the hell comes up with the names for this stuff, much less the SMELLS. Thank heaven I'm not pregnant anymore (with the frighteningly acute sense of smell) because one stupidly curious sniff would have sent me unconscious, twitching and foaming at the mouth. No wonder that shit was forgotten next to the toilet!

As I said, I'm pissed at life. As if the pre-eclampsia and premature birth of our baby wasn't enough for us, we're now trying to figure out What The Hell is Wrong THIS time and unfortunately one of the possibilities is pancreatic cancer. My reactions range from "Fiddle-dee-dee, I'm not gonna think about it, positive thinking and all that jazz" to soundless shrieking inside my own head. I've got more tests coming and we won't have answers for a bit... I hate feeling like a downer in my own head, but for cripes sake, YOU try looking on the bright side when you get hit between the eyes like that.

I'm not going to go around telling everyone... I have one friend who's pretty much in the same boat right now with a mass in her neck. So we can hold each others hands while we try and look brave and not pee our own pants.

So what do I do? Do you try and brace yourself for the worst and hope for the best? What I want to do is just shove the whole idea back into my mental closet for now, but since this is all new to me, its not working. And my husband, God love the poor man, Googled. He Googled and he scared himself damn near shitless. So... great. He's the sweetest man I ever met to start with (until he pisses me off, bwah hah) and he has spent the last 4 days basically treating me like I'm about to keel over and die.

So while I WANT to sit down and gibber until I stop being scared, apparently I can't. Probably for the best anyway. I hate being scared. I fucking HATE it.