Death and Monkeys

I’m a little bit hyped up this morning, despite feeling like crap, thanks to a breakfast consisting of approximately five cups of coffee, one partially burnt brownie, and a glass of Emergen-C, as well as finding proof that I’m either on the verge of death, or totally fine, depending entirely on the nature of what I discovered.

That should be explained.

Right, so, there I was, plucking my eyebrows using crappy tweezers and a half-broken hand mirror that E kept poking at in an effort to rearrange my face (he’s obsessed with touch-screens and tries to make things happen on the TV, laptop, and mirrors using his finger). Due to a strange (or not so strange, really) fear of having anything lodged in my teeth and smiling at people (this happened to me! I had broccoli for dinner, went to Walgreen’s, and was feeling overly smiley one night and didn’t realize til hours later that there was broccoli winking at the cashier when I flashed my pearly whites at him(this also is a reason why flirting just does not work for me))…

Whoa, slow down.

Ah, yes. I curled my lips back in an ugly snarly way to see if any bits of brownie had taken up residence between my teeth, and that’s when I noticed a tiny little round black spot on my gums.

I poked at it, tried to scrape it off in the hopes that it was ground pepper (which was silly, because I’ve not consumed pepper in days, and yes, I have in fact brushed my teeth since then. At least once, but if my memory is correct, it’s been more like six times).

It didn’t budge. It also didn’t hurt, either, so, as any sane person would do, I Googled it.

By the way, if you’re going to Google any kind of medical anything, don’t bother looking at the pictures, because not only will you see disgusting photos relating to what you’re actually looking for, you’ll be distracted by disgusting photos that are completely UNrelated to what you’re actually looking for.

Man, there are people out there with really, REALLY gross mouths.

Oh, hell, I’m one of them now! I’ve got a BLACK SPOT ON MY GUMS!

Anyway, the information I found tells me that this spot COULD just be a discoloration. It COULD just be a bruise from vigorous tooth-brushing.

Or it could be oral cancer in its earliest stages and I’ll probably die a horrible death if I don’t go see a dentist ASAP.

So, I’m either totally fine, or on the verge of death.

Actually, nothing said anything about dying, but that’s just my mind’s natural progression; I find a spot that didn’t exist as recently as yesterday, and I assume it’s a death omen.

Like on The Muppets Treasure Island (er, is that right? You probably know what I’m talking about, regardless), with the black spot. Totally similar.

To make my day even better, I’ve got what I suspect is a cold, but feels more like the flu, and I only think it’s a cold because it started with just a runny nose, then has slowly gotten worse over the last several days. I am now at the point where I feel much like crawling under a blanket and sleeping for a week. The problem with this plan is that L won’t let me sleep that long, and E would just pull the blanket off of me to throw on the floor. And then he wouldn’t even play with it.

Why are children so mean?

To tie all this together nicely…

I’ve had a headache nearly every day since my nose first started being all snotty. I had assumed the headache was courtesy of whatever bug I’ve caught, but now, since finding the spot on my gums, it seems far more likely that the headache is being caused by a major brain tumor that is showing itself through the spot on my gums.

And this is why I should

A) Not be left to my own devices for long periods of time
B) Not pluck my eyebrows
and
C) Never Google anything. Ever.

Now all I want to do is call Clint at work to run my theories by him and see if he agrees that I’m likely to die in the next few weeks.

Oooh, he’d be so mad.

Yeah, not about my death, about me calling him at work to discuss my death.

…BUT WHAT IF I REALLY AM DYING?!

He’d probably say, “Well, we can worry about that when I get home. It doesn’t sound like you’re going to kick the bucket before dinner time. Oh, speaking of dinner, what are we having?”

Because dinner is an acceptable discussion to have while he’s on the clock, but not my death.

He’s gonna feel really awful if this black spot has swallowed my whole head by the time he gets home.

Note: I think Clint tends to sound fairly heartless in my imaginary conversations with him. This is not the case. He’s just not impressed by my frequent claims that I’m dying.

Also, I imagine that one day I really will, really and truly, be convinced that I’m dying, and I will look back over my life and hate myself for all previous false alarms. Such a waste of time! Why, oh why do I spend so much life on being afraid of death?

Right, I’m totally going to live it up now. Sky diving, and…roller coasters…and…

Whatever. I’ll get to that stuff when this cold goes away and I’ve seen a dentist.

P.S. Yeah, this post has nothing whatsoever to do with monkeys, but it’s the first title that popped into my (possibly cancerous) head. Oh, wait. Me and E watched Curious George this morning. So, there ya go. A monkey made it into this post.