Shhh! Don't Tell Anyone

But the Matron is not stable.

And some of her favorite blogs are to blame. First, there is an infestation at the Manor. Mrs. G, how are you? The Matron (almost) knows your pain.

Three years ago, just as the Matron was conveniently running a high profile mayoral campaign nearly to D-day (voting!), the school nurse called to inform the already hysterical Matron that her daughter had head lice. Like two.

It appeared the nurse discovered the foul creatures about one minute after they jumped ship from her friend Lia's head, into Scarlett's.

But even one louse is an infestation.

On top of managing a campaign from 5 am till 11 pm (yes it was that crazy), the Matron now had to bag stuffed animals, wash every fiber in the house, vacuum each rug by its individual thread AND spend hours upon hours upon hours combing and sifting and examining the contours of Scarlett's head.

After the two lice were decimated and the five nits removed, she thought she was home free until another LONE LIVE bug was discovered 20 days later!

Sorry, Mrs. G. And the Matron had been combing that kid's head the entire time.

This time, after all the cleaning and laundry, the Matron made her child sleep with this on her head for 22 days.



How deathly afraid of contracting lice is the Matron? Friends, she also slept with that gunk on her head and didn't even have one single bug!

Unstable.

So yesterday, the Matron made her poor husband (who did not know these details when they stood at the alter) check her head for lice--thoroughly, even though he had better things to do than enable.

But her head still itches!

Then, the Matron happened upon HippyHappyHay's tapeworm recitation.


The Matron could not sleep that night, she was so full of this:



It's not your fault, friends. The Matron is so unstable that her hypochondria barely needs a trigger! Her current slightly clogged sinus? Probably cancer.

Indeed. . remember her recent $6000 date with the doctors? (yes, that was the bill the insurance company picked up for that little excursion) Deep down, the Matron knew she was fine and OVER-REACTING.

The Matronly panic over all things physical ebbs and flows. Frequently, she's fine. But under pressure (just ten more research papers and a couple of clashes over final grades ahead!), that hypochondria likes to give the Matron some bling.

Now, the Matron has the unusual privilege of having antibodies for not one, but two endocrine autoimmune diseases - Graves Disease and Hashimotos. When her grading is finished, she'll explain how to tape your eyes shut at night when they stop closing naturally.

Got your attention, hmmm?

She doesn't have to do that anymore. But! Her Judas-body also housed a rare endocrine cancer in its appendix. While she was being treated for that unpleasant condition, her oncologist DIED after heart surgery. It's unfortunate enough to have an oncologist, but doubly so when the person in charge of preventing your death capitulates to that condition himself.

Don't worry. There's a .000000000000000000000000000000000000000009% chance of that cancer coming back.

Still, if anyone has street creds in the Unpleasant Illness Department, it is the Matron.

Today, just after she talked herself down from the cliff of the sinus cancer, a student handed her this research paper: "Bladder Cancer: What You Don't Know Can Kill You."

And the Matron immediately had to pee. All day long. With burning sensation. She assumes this malady will cease when those grades are finally entered . . . .