Running on Empty

Sabotage from the inside. 

I have my MRI today, and I'm really fucking scared. The most viable options seem to be a cyst or a tumor, since I don't see how I could have injured it...also the giant lump in my calf. It's really hard to calmly try and come to terms with what the answer might be.
I also had kind of a blowup with Lindbergh last night, and another uncomfortable conversation with Foxx.

The situation with Lindbergh is kind of twofold. I started reading this book we got at church (and if I haven't mentioned it before, I'm Catholic). It's about this Protestant couple who ended up converting to Catholicism, but before that happened, they were super anti-Catholic. Like, to the point of honestly saying the Pope was the antichrist and that Catholic's souls were ruined, one guy even calling it the "synagogue of satan" (which actually seems wrong on a few levels).  Anyway I had no idea that there were people who were that against Catholicism, so I got curious. I asked Lindbergh what denomination he was...he's non-denominational; I was curious so I asked about that. I think he was weirded out by my questions. Seriously, I was just curious. We went on to chat about other things.
Later on, I asked Lindbergh if he prays much anymore. (Oh, this is the second...fold?) His answer was "Whoa. Shit just got real."
Uh, really? That is the tipping point? Of all the weird, gross, borderline dumb things he's said to me...asking about prayer is the line. Interesting. So I apologized when I got another couple of texts from him. One was asking how he ends up at the bar on a Monday, and the other was a picture of beer. While he was sending those, I sent him my explanation: that I was really scared and was just going to ask for a prayer. He said something about kind of wanting to change the subject.
Then...I got mad. I told him that I truly didn't think cancer was out of the question and that it was really cruel and heartless of him. He told me that the beer texts were supposed to have gone to someone else and that he felt dumb about it. He sent a longer apology today; I haven't responded.

The weird conversation with Foxx was kind of my fault...I should have known better. He put a really funny video on Facebook...it was in the vein of a sad "adopt these animals" commercial, except it was for white women to adopt black men (because black women were mean to them). It was hilarious, and I commented on it "oh no, do you need to be adopted?!"
Yup. Bad move. He asked if I'd adopt him, then started telling me that he would like to rest his head on my soft spots. Ah..haha. He kept pushing it and I told him that he knew I wasn't going to say yes. Then he started the "oh am I making you  uncomfortable? I'm so sorry!" bit. I once again explained that we work together. How do we keep having this conversation and how does he conveniently keep forgetting about it? So obnoxious.

So, the MRI. I don't have an answer yet, but they think they ruled out cancer. (Interestingly enough, my doctor never outright told me that was an option...I kind of figured it out on my own. But my concern wasn't completely in crazy town.) Although that's good news, I still don't have an answer. And I look like a freaking idiot every time I try to walk! It's embarrassing. Luckily, my doctor put me on bed rest again, at least for tomorrow. Unfortunately, she's hoping to get me in tomorrow for the next test...stick a needle in that bitch.