As many of you know, I'm working at a law firm now. It's really interesting, especially because we do a lot of cases that involve medical stuff, so there will be pages and pages of books about insides and guts and all of that good stuff for me to copy and put in the computer.

The hard part, though, is that recently there's a lot of stuff about colons.

Now, don't get me wrong, I still think that the word "bowel" is hilarious, and I take a lot of pleasure in naming the saved files funny things that only I will get, so that when I have to pull them up, it makes me giggle and no one else will ever know. The downside is that learning more about how doctors diagnose issues with colons makes me think about my mom and all of the warning signs which nobody put together until it was too late.

I know, I know, I work for lawyers, and some people would've probably looked into legal action, but the thing is, in my mind, there's nothing that can get my mom back for us, so why drag a bunch of people and ourselves through all the poop? It's not like any one doctor just maliciously ignored something that later turned out to be a big deal, like the time three years before her diagnosis when she was hospitalized for a bowel obstruction (which I now know can be a sign of colon cancer), and they saw some spots on her liver when they scanned her which the radiologist decided was nothing, and which we now know were the cancer spreading from her colon to her liver.

I know in my heart that the guy was trying to do his job. No one would purposely ignore something that they had any suspicion was something as serious as cancer cells on someone's liver. But I hate it that I didn't know and didn't stop it before it was too late.

I realize that I'm not a doctor. I just wish I was psychic. And a doctor. A psychic doctor.

Anyway, today, reading stuff that confirms all of the things we now know are true, I wish I could've changed it. I wish I could've saved her. I know that's impossible, and that she's in a WAY better place now, doing all the fun stuff and not having to have cold winters, Grey Poupon, or those terrible shots in her elbow ever again. I know.

But I still hate it.

Also, bowels. Bowels, bowels, bowels.

I'm good now.