Pollyanna, Biopsies, and The Glad Game

Admitting something here that will forever brand me as the biggest cupcake in the history of cupcakes. An admission that will be tattooed forever across my forehead in florid illuminated script: “Pollyanna dork-a-saurus”

I love the movie Pollyanna starring Hayley Mills.

I said it.  I am a big pink icing-slathered jimmy-festooned cupcake dork-a-saurus. But that’s beside the point.  See, in the movie Pollyanna spoke of a game she played with her missionary parents when the going got rough in some deep dark non-Christian place where they were converting the heathens to proper British religiosity.  Like the time she got crutches instead of a fancy baby doll for her birthday…Must’ve sucked out loud mightily, but they just turned it around by using “The Glad Game” – They were glad they didn’t need the crutches, they were glad the crutches were there in case someone needed them, glad that they were such sturdy well-made crutches and so on.  This helped Pollyanna to put things into perspective, even though it still bit the big one that the baby doll didn’t make it to her little girl arms. With my anger issues, I’d have thrown those crutches on the community bonfire in the middle of the pagan third-world village they were there to save.  Then I would’ve personally loaded my parents into the big, black cauldron for the village matrons to season up and braise into Missionary Stew. For Pollyanna, a vision of spunky grace and good will, a little positive thinking goes a long way.  Thank god, she is a role model for me.

 
“The Glad Game,” although we don’t know it at the time, is the one pastime my Mom and I naturally employ when things seem tinged with overwhelming melancholy or danger or fear.  As tough as I think I am, sometimes it is all just too crazy to muster up the usual snarky survival techniques, and reverting to the “game” with Mom is a saving grace.

Wouldn’t you know it would be raining…
I’m glad it is, less traffic.

I hate hospitals…
I am glad this one has that gorgeous player piano in the lobby.
Yeah, and I am glad the ceilings are nice and high and the Christmas tree is pretty…and everyone is smiling.  I’m glad.

What in the name of the Inquisition is all that?
You should be glad that all those needles and tubes are packaged perfectly sterile and your nurse is opening them up in front of you…
Yes, I am glad everything is nice and sharp and clean.
Damn, I am glad my nurse is really good at what she does. That didn’t hurt at all!

Oh great here comes Doc, it’s time…
Be glad he is on time and so handsome too!
I am glad he didn’t dumb it down either.  I am glad he respects me.  This is going to hurt…but I am glad he could get to the tumor through my back. I am glad he looks nice and buff so pushing that giant core drill needle through my back won’t be hard for him.

Every time you punch through, pain is shooting down my leg…Glad you are stabbing my freaky growth/mass/tumor.  Glad you keep stabbing it. Glad you don’t mind if I cry a little.

We’re almost done.
I am glad we’re almost done.  I am glad you could get more tissue in the biopsy than you thought.  I am glad this is over. Glad for reality altering meds in my system to help me accept this puncture invasion of mind and body.

Glad this step in the journey is done.

Damn, I am so glad to see breakfast and pie.  And Mom.