I saw that someone had left me a phone message at the wee hour of 9:00 am in the morning. [Don’t judge. I’m vampirish in nature].
I pushed play and it went something something something MEDICAL “please return the call as soon as possible …”
O, crap. My heart went into my throat. I immediately knew my lady bits Doctor took another look at the lady bits biopsy and found something amiss with my lady bits. [It’s called hypochondria].
A new month is dawning in 2020 after all. What fresh hell could possibly lay ahead? lie ahead? be in store?
I followed the phone message instructions.
A friendly voice answered and enquired about how she might help me.
“I was instructed to dial this number and then press the number 2 —
So I did.”
There was a bit of a pause and then a giggle. All I heard was “to schedule a mammogram” and I groaned a long toddler-like groan, “Whyyyyyyyy?” I finally surrendered. “Fine. Do it then,” I snapped oh, so tersely.
Another snicker.
NOTE: I did not realize I had choices in mammograms! These are exciting times! O, advanced technology, thy name is – 3D.
She went on with, “For verification purposes could you
P̷̘͎̈́̄͐́̂̾̉̓̋͌̆̅̊̒́̚͘͝l̶̢̨̬̠̹̥͇̆̃̍̅͂̏͘͘͘͜ẻ̶͓̗̮̳̜̼̪̙̻͕̭̜̰̝̙̲̏͆̀̈́͛̔̽̆̌̂͛͘̕̕̕͜á̵̩̃́̀̄͒̂̈́̾̈́s̸̢͖͓̗͉̖̺̟̤͉̦͆́̓́̇̋́̓̒͝͝͝ȩ̴̢̛̱̖͓̟̫̻̳͙̹̯̰͍̘̔̐̒͂̑̓͌̈́̾̃̔̈́̚͝ͅ ̶̧̢̰̪̫͙̠͈̌̎͂̆̃̿̆̿̊͂̓̉̀̿̍̊͘͜s̶̬͚̳͈̟̲̞̝͎̗̫̮̬̳̰̲͑̋̄̎́́͗̌̀͛͂̏̿̊̎͆͂͝t̷̡̗̖̼̲͕̥͔̰̟̫̃͐́͛̋͆̆͘͘a̷̢̢̖̞̻̝͙̗̟̹̻̦͍̝̪̪͕͗̉͑̾̇͛̑͘͜͝t̵̖̹̭̹͖͙̙̦̩̫̞̠̩͍̟̲̙͙͛̄̌e̴̡̨̢͖͖̥͙̱̝̍̀̽͒́͜ͅ ̸̧̥̹̺̫̙̞͇̗̯̗̪͉̼̹͖̦̂͊̿͜ẙ̶͈̰̯̺̘̯̼̖̬̄̂̽̋̅̊́̈̅͑͌̀̿͗ͅő̸̝̝͔͚̼͎̘̹̙̣͍̻̀̓̋̂́̀̕͜u̴̧̢̡̦̞̙̻͖̗̯̩͇̬̳̯̘̿͆̊̇́͆̈́͆̀̑͂̊̑̈̄̋͘͜͠r̸̙̬̖͖̗͖̿̍̏̔̓̉͗̌̋͂͝͝ͅ ̸͍̞̹̩̐͂̈́̆̐̍̈́́͑͆͋̉̋͑̆̽̚̚n̸̢̡̖̬͎͔̺̬͕͔̝̟̳̞̼̦̩͗̇͆a̵͙̣̝̭͖͒m̸̛̰̫̖̭̽̒̃̓͊͌͐͌̐͒̆̽̀͒̚͝ͅė̷̹̯̝͈̖͆͆̇̎̂͋̏̋́͝͝ ̷̥̯̖̬͂́͌͑͌̏̾̊͗̊͝ͅ ?”
Me: WAT
The woman on the other end of the phone suddenly burst into hysterical laughter.
So I did what any red-blooded American would do: I returned the revelry.
For 10 minutes straight.
I have no idea what the hell we were laughing at or about, but I got a runner’s cramp.
She finally continued:
May I have
T̴̬͉̤̜̗̺̰̝͕͉̙̳̜͐̈̄̐̐̒͜͝h̵̨͓̗̰̦̚e̸̛͇̱̭͓͕͓̙̣͔͑̈́̅̍̆̊̂͆͜ ̴̬̎̐̀̊͒̌͗̀̌̀̓̽͂̍͘͝͝ͅl̵̛̟̮̱͒͊͛̉̒̽͆̈́̏̉̈́̔̄̇͆͘͠a̶̛̭̙͓̼̜̫̥̘̬͂͋́̈́̅̓̀̒́̆͗s̴̡̪͈̺͇͚̘̞̲̰̣͑̒̈̽̽̇̌̿͝͠ͅt̵̖͙̫̦͌̆͗̉̒́͂̍̒̋̌͂̚̚͠ ̴̧͍͎̯̇͌͊̐̓̚̚f̴̙̹̠͖̘̲̺̅̀̀͜ȍ̸͉͙̜̏́͗̈̅́͌̐̌͝ư̶͈̲̻̭̱͔̎̀͂̓̓̃̐͂̋̍̃̀̈̕̕͝r̸̥͎̼͈̀̓̀͌̒̆̿͛̆̉͂̋́̀́̚͠͝ͅ ̴̧̬͓̦͍̅̾̊͑͘͝͝d̷̛̪́̈̓̈́̂̌̆̽̌̚ͅi̸̢̛͖̱̞̺̙͍͚͙̮͈̽̏̆͋̅͠ǵ̵̢̢̛̯͉̙͕̙̦̬͓͎̟̳͙̺̭̓͑͊͑͌̀̉̚͜i̸͍̖̰̘̞̣̲̟͛̇́̽̈́͘t̵̨̢̨̞̙͓͓̬̫̟͚͕̠͍̏̓̌̈́̏͐͒̄̀̄̌̓̚̚͝͝͠ͅs̵̢̛̜̭͇͎͖͎͈̳̖̮̰͒͐̍̌̐̈́̄̃̂͑̚͝ ̶̮͔͉̭̟̦̤͉̟̥̱̩̽̋̃̑͋͒͂͐̒͘̚̚͜͝ͅơ̵̝̤͍͇̠̭͌̀͌f̷̡̱̩͓̝͍̘̱̘̟̠͙̰͓̺͖̖̆͌̐̕ ̴̧̥͓͇̙̯̰̞̻̼͍̹̱͐̄͆̇̈ẙ̸̡̨̧̡̱͉͓̘̹̳͇̣̥̗͕̫̓̓̒͆͗̈́̂̔̒͂͗̒̔̿̚̕͜ớ̸̡̢̪̹̝͎̲̰͈̰͍̈̑̈́́̄͂͗̓̔̾̊̾͌̕u̶͍̳̣͈̯̘̰͕̺͈̜̪͆̈́͜͜r̶͈̝̩͎͎̜̻̫̩̲̠̖̥̯̾̄͛̃̌̅̕͠ͅ ̸̧͔̮͓̪̘̬̪̮͎̜͚̗͖̝͌ͅs̵̢͍͈̼̻̊̋̈́̈́͌͂́̈͗̅̽̚͘͠͝s̵̛͔̓̈́̊̂ ?”
Me: WAT.
And it all started again.
Eventually, we did manage to get to the most important information such as we both gained lots of weight during quarantine, she lives near me and we both have noticed the inordinate number of local skinny suburban housewives in yoga pants that we both lovingly referred to as “Karens.”
“You know,” I say, “you may have seen me walking to the lake. Can’t miss me. I have long red hair and dress, comparitivly to Karen, dumpy.”
Her: OH MY GOD! DO YOU WALK LIKE YOU’RE ANGRY?!
Well, obviously it was me. It’s a no-brainer. Hey – you would look angry too if you had daily existential crisises criseeze crises if you were a nihlist.
I directed her to my website to see my photo for verification.
OH MY GOD IT IS YOU!!
She was looking at the comic.
The conversation and chortling continued.
For 45 minutes.
She shared how to work out while holding an ice cream cone and I shared how to do butt and leg lifts while laying in bed at night eating potato chips – never missing a chip.
SO CAN YOU!
We even shared things I can’t write about publicly. Well … I shared things I can’t … you know … write about publicly because I have no boundaries. [The call may have been recorded for quality assurance] *ahem*
When there was a lull in the wackiness action I asked, “So what time is this appointment?”
“Ten a.m.”
“Wait. I asked for afternoon.”
Trying to stifle guffaws she blurts out, “I FORGOT!!” and then we returned, yet again, back to the beginning levels of jocularity. We did not pass “GO” we did not collect $200. I snorted. I cried. And – I peed my pants.
My rabbits looked disturbed and that made it all the funnier.
HAHAHAHA 
HAHAHAHA
I realize there is a good possibility that this is one of those “you had to be there” events – Still, I highly recommend some good howling laughter for everyone.
Watch this:
Ok. Try watching it at 3 am after eating a family sized pack of Oreos, a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and thinking about death. It’s freaking hilarious!
It seems I found a lost member of my tribe. In these times of insanity and uncertainty, it was an unexpected connection and a much-needed catharsis.
It truly is the best medicine. Especially for existential hypochondriacs like me.
