Bad Gay: Episode 6

Five important things happened to me last week:

1. I had a very disappointing experience with lima beans: a vegetable that has never let me down. Lima beans are the only vegetable I eat out of a can. I love to add them to rice. (Cook the rice and then add lima beans and fresh dill. You will not be sorry.) I was preparing this dish to give me some comfort after experiencing Nos. 4 and 5 below. But when I opened the can, the lima beans were mushy—not the hardy, little green soldiers I’ve always relied on. I was too sad to return to the store. They let me down when I needed them the most.

• I had my first colonoscopy. I recently turned the age when you are told to get preventative screenings. So, ticked off the colonoscopy and mammogram boxes last week. It also was my first experience with anesthesia. It was propofol. The nurse called it the Michael Jackson anesthesia because it’s the one that killed him. I can understand why he got addicted to it. One of the side-effects is that it gives patients good dreams. I had a dream that I was on a date with the lady doctor who was doing the procedure. We had a nice time! Oh, and my results were fine.

• I learned that one of my renters (I own a few rental cottages in a resort town) was a former contestant on The Bachelor! After the rattling events of Nos. 4 and 5 below, I hightailed it to one of my open rentals to hide out. On this day, I felt like a sleepwalker—as if I was still under the dreamy properties of propofol. Everything seemed blurry and not quite real—like living in an impressionist painting. In mid-afternoon, there was a knock at my door. It was one of my renters’ mothers. She’d seen my car and thought she’d drop over for a chat. I’d met her only once. How did she know my car? Who just drops over for a chat? But she had a plate of cookies, so I let her in. She stayed for two hours. She did most of the chatting. Somewhere amid detailing the weirdly fascinating mundanity of her life (she has many adventures at swap meets) she revealed that her daughter—my renter—was a contestant on an early season of The Bachelor! She made it to the final contestants and was “a fan favorite.” (This checks out. I Google it.)

• I received news that I have a “mass” in one of my breasts. “Don’t panic,” my doctor said. “I’m not sure how I’m not to panic once the word ‘mass’ is introduced into the conversation,” I responded. My doctor said that the size and shape indicate that it’s almost certainly benign. (This checks out. I Googled it.) I go in for other scans in a few weeks. It’s probably fine. But I’m scared.

• I left my spouse. This is what’s called burying the lede in the news business! We experienced a major crisis two years ago and have been struggling to right the ship since. It’s been miserable. I know what it feels like to want to leave a relationship, so I know that I didn’t leave because I wanted to. I left because I had to. We just kept slamming into the same wall repeatedly and neither of us had the wherewithal to grab the wheel and swerve. But after the breast “mass” news, I grabbed the wheel.

After the drama of screaming the phrase “I want to separate,” something magical happened. My leaving broke the terrible spell we’d been living under—for both of us. Suddenly, the problems that were insurmountable seemed no more life-shaking than not being awarded a rose on The Bachelor. Sometimes you need to dangle your legs over the abyss before realizing the difference between dire and just a disappointing can of lima beans.

I’m back home now. Finally waking from the stupor of the past two years. Unlike propofol, the anesthesia that’s numbed me for many months has not been pleasant. Marriage isn’t easy. You hit bad patches. You slam into walls. But like many breast “masses,” it’s often not deadly. You will be fine.