I promised to tell the truth, so here is it. I had a pedicure yesterday. Let me explain.
I went to the gastroenterologist on Thursday for, well, let’s just say, digestive issues. Please keep reading. I promise I won’t ever write about this kind of thing unless it’s a really funny story about my kids or it’s crucial to the blog. In this case it’s the latter. The doctor doesn’t think it’s anything serious, but he wants to do a colonoscopy to officially rule out any of the bad stuff. Yikes.
Starting next Wednesday, I will begin a 48-hour “cleanse” for the procedure on Friday. All I can think about is (1) the valium I’m going to request once they get the IV in at the hospital and (2) shopping. Retail therapy is tailor made for situations just like this!
This was hardly the way I wanted to start my month-long spending freeze, but Friday was a new day, so I put the colonoscopy in the back – the very back – of my mind. After dropping Dylan off at camp, Riley and I headed to my dermatologist appointment. Somehow the colonoscopy came up and the doctor proceeded to tell me about how his son just had one and the twilight anesthesia didn’t work. He was awake through the whole procedure and felt everything. He said his son was in agony.
Sidebar: I tend to overreact about my health. Panic is probably a better word. If I have a headache, I think it’s an aneurism. Swollen ankles during pregnancy had to be deep vein thrombosis. Last year I had a ventral hernia. Until the doctor confirmed it, I was sure the bump above my belly button was a malignant stomach tumor. My mind goes straight to the worst-case scenario.
This anecdote about the son’s colonoscopy-gone-bad was the spark that lit the shopaholic fire in me. It’s not bad enough that there might be cancer lurking inside me (see sidebar above), but now I have to worry about the anesthesia not working and being awake and in excruciating pain through the whole thing. I drove home with blinders on to keep myself from stopping at Target or Old Navy. (Riley could use a new bathing suit.)
The phone rang when we got home and it was the spa calling to confirm my pedicure for Saturday morning. I had made the appointment a few weeks back. I should have cancelled with the woman on the phone because pedicures are not sanctioned in shopaholic rehab (food, diapers and gas only), but I caved. I felt sorry for myself and this stupid colonoscopy, and I confirmed the appointment.
Off the wagon I fell.
The pedicure was wonderful and my feet and toes look beautiful. I had a much needed one-hour rest from thinking about the colonoscopy, and I got a short break from my kids. At least I didn’t blow it on floss. The shopaholic mama, with pretty purple nail polish on her toes, is back on the wagon again and spending the day at home, free of charge, with her kids.
The Runaway Mama by Jen Gregory 