The last few weeks in the life of Brian, your faithful author slash blogger of Life of Brian have sucked a bit on the much side . . . but at least the big worry is out of the way.

I have been under the weather lately, with a bit of a pain in the gut that I get every once in awhile for reasons that were previously understood . . . however, a new doc took a closer look and he found a mass in my gut, one that ain’t there for most folks and it happens to be the source of all this non-happy pain . . . he suggested I get my butt to the hospital and have ’em do a real check on it as it felt like a tumor of some sort.

Well . . . the hospital doc also said it seemed likely that it was a tumor but that I shouldn’t worry as it might not be cancer . . . uh, when you tell someone not to worry that they might not have cancer, guess what they’re going to have all those wonderful sleepless nights up worrying about? Right. We’re talking full-on sleepless nights “trying” to get some sleep and “trying” not to worry and anyone who has every talked to me about the real meaning of the word “try” knows that when you “try” to not think about how worried you are that’s exactly what you’re going to do (close your eyes for a couple moments and try not to think of a pink elephant . . . really try . . . do it NOW . . . so, what color was the elephant you just thought of?).

I finally got in for my sonogram and the nurse had trouble finding it with her hitech equipment (I often have medical folks with problems finding various of my internal bits . . . it’s really quite frustrating and I suspect part of it may be my alien DNA).

She called in the doctor in attendance and she went to prodding and poking and scanning and the like and she found it . . . much larger and much longer than previously thought and a whole slew of the beggars instead of just one but the big ‘un, the source of all this happy discomfort, is less like a lump as it is a cord, cable, or rope that extends across the belly right where the ol’ trouser line goes. As she did her scanning, she said it’s obvious it isn’t a tumor. It’s a strange formation of fat cells that have been inflamed and formed weirdness just for yours truly.

Tuesday, we went in to see the doctor and he confirmed her read of things.

No cancer . . . not a tumor . . . just weirdness. In a very strange way, the fact that I have this weirdness makes me happy . . . as it ain’t something so much worse.

Oh, the pain . . . I get to keep it . . . learn to live and cope and all that . . . or, have it cut out . . . but that’s out for me . . . I may not be a young man anymore, a little far from it . . . but neither am I all that old and I’ve just had too many surgeries in my life (scars on various bits to prove it), some major and some awfully tender subjects in and of themselves . . . so, I’m not looking for anymore.

For some reason, I feel so much better now.

BTW, don’t wear your jeans too tight . . . loosefitting clothes, that’s the ticket . . . that’s all I can say.