Well, friends…
After weeks of suspense, anxiety, medical plot twists, and enough imaging to stock a small radiology museum, I finally have an answer.
It’s benign.
Actually benign.
Like officially-benign-with-pathology benign.
The diagnosis?
Adenomatosis.
If that word sounds made up, it practically is. And the odds of developing it? About one in one hundred million. Naturally. Because why wouldn’t I pull another astronomically rare diagnosis out of the cosmic grab bag?
I mean, I already had Ewing’s sarcoma in my forties, which basically stamped UNICORN across my medical chart in glitter ink. Apparently the universe decided to double down and hand me something even rarer, just to keep things interesting.
So what happens now?
Here’s the beautiful part: I’m okay. Truly okay.
But because I’m still a limited-edition medical specimen, Mayo Clinic is treating me like a Fabergé egg. I’ll be getting MRIs every three months—and yes, that means flying back to Mayo four times a year, because my liver refuses to be evaluated by mere mortals. They also want a PET scan, because at this point I’ve collected so many imaging studies I may qualify for museum curation credit. And of course there will be the routine check-ins, CT scans, and all the usual “make sure the unicorn stays alive” follow-up.
But the headline?
Benign. Benign. Benign.
No cancer.
No neuroendocrine tumor (one of the big fears—now ruled OUT).
No Ewing’s recurrence.
Just a liver that has apparently decided to express itself creatively.
The takeaway?
That even after a one-in-tens-of-millions cancer and a one-in-one-hundred-million liver phenomenon, I’m still here. Still laughing. Still writing. Still showing up for my family, my life, and myself.
And the doctors at Mayo—literal experts in the rare and strange—looked at everything, huddled like the Avengers, and agreed:
All is well.
So my husband and I celebrated our 27-year anniversary this past weekend, we’re already planning our next trip to Rochester (because of course we are), and I’m dusting off my gym membership and getting back to writing, parenting, and dog-wrangling with a lighter heart and a slightly more famous liver.
Life moves on. Blessedly.
Absurdities and Fires 