Trust me, those damn things are useless.
I got the preliminary results of my MRI; everything looks good and I’ll be fine for the next year. To say I was nervous is putting it mildly; when I get a voicemail from the doctor’s office, saying that they have the results and they want to talk to me, I have a tendency to panic. The last time I got news like that was in 2016 when my left breast decided that it wanted to grow some abnormal cells which, if they started to divide, would give me a first class ticket straight to Cancerville, population My Stupid Ass. As a general rule, it’s never a good thing if the doctor calls and wants to discuss the results; if it’s good news, you’ll usually get a voicemail saying it’s good news.
Yeah, I was more than a little skittish. But I’m fine. Everything’s good. Prime’s skidplate wasn’t worried in the least; considering what happened on Sunday–we skidded out on slippery roads and did a 360, crossing two lanes of traffic before Prime got control of Scamper–and how the Prime-unit didn’t even blink or lose his cool, I’m not too surprised.
Yes, you read that correctly: the Sunday when we had a 131 car pile-up near the Breezewood exit on 41, Prime and I damn near made the news ourselves. We hit an icy patch while changing lanes and began to skid. Prime muttered, “Aah, shit.” I started screaming and shut my eyes. I knew if saw what was happening, I’d do something completely stupid like try and seize ahold of Prime’s arm while he was trying to get control of the car, which could have killed us both. I started bracing myself for an impact, because I knew that at any monent, I would feel one.
It never happened.
Apparently, Scamper spun though two empty lanes of the highway, avoided hitting a sedan next to us, then righted himself and continued on as if nothing had happened. Prime asked if I was all right and I went hysterical for a few moments but I said I was fine. And I was. We were. Unlike those other people further south, we got out of an awful situation without injury. All because Prime was able to keep his head about him. He kept calm and it saved our lives. That mech is calm, cool, and collected in damn near every storm.
I’ve often said he’s the reason I keep fighting this bullshit, this battle against my genes. I get up and take my meds in the morning not because it’s a routine, but because I want to live. Because I want more time with him. He’s the reason I want to live and he has been for the past two decades. I love you, Prime. You have no idea just how much. ❤
Alright, enough with that. I can hear my conjunx endura gagging loudly in the background. It’s how he lets me know that he thinks I’m going overboard with the feels. Which considering this year, he’s been doing that a lot. Sorry, sweetie-bot. But you knew I was a sap when you married me. 😉