If a cow ever got the chance...

I called my mom to ask when my grandma's birthday is (just to confirm that it isn't in like February before I mail off the giant cheerful birthday card I just bought). She told me, even before confirming it's October 6, that everyone there is worried because my grandma has been walking around sporting various band-aids, and no one knows why but they think she might have had some sort of skin cancer removed. She said, "I didn't want to ask about it and your dad hasn't asked yet either."

Well, not being graced with large amounts of tact, I did ask a couple weeks ago at the big post-Labor Day family barbecue, when she had a band-aid under her right eye. But--and this is driving me INSANE--I can't remember what, exactly, she said. The gist was that it was a cosmetic surgery of some kind (maybe a mole removed??) and it was nothing to worry about. And as you can see, I promptly forgot. FUCK. Plus, I didn't even consider that my grandma is really cagey, and in the past has been perfectly willing to not lie exactly--but to deliberately fail to mention--health matters to protect other family members from worrying. And this seems like exactly the kind of thing she would "not lie exactly" about. Well, it certainly worked on me.

Now I feel like an asshole for (1) accepting her story at face value and assuming everything was fine fine fine, and (2) forgetting what her story was in the first place when it didn't raise any alarm bells. What good does it do to be the only family member ballsy enough to ask these things if I can't remember them two weeks later? We all know I'm a big hypochondriac--last week I thought I had deep vein thrombosis from sitting in my cubicle all day--but it's a joke because deep down I know that everything is OK, that I am twenty-five years old and healthy in that rosy-cheeked-farm-girl / big ox sort of way. Maybe, as stupid as it sounds, I've been transferring that onto everyone else--that they are all fine and will continue to be so, even if they'll be 79 next week.

So now yes, I am worried. But looking forward to the multigenerational road trip in which Grandma, Dad and I drive to Florida after Xmas, there to meet up with my mom, my other grandma, my brother (maybe), my sister, and her boyfriend for the post-Xmas get-together. We may not have a chance to talk until then, but 1400 miles in the car together should fix that.

Later: the Waffle House fight scene from the last multigenerational road trip (which I wasn't privy to, but is courtesy of my sister and is amusing and should give more insight than you needed or wanted into family dynamics)

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