How my breasts define me…

Hello?  Obviously, they don’t! 🙂 That is, the ta-tas are not the woman, nor do they a woman make.

We have until Monday before this is over.  I drove far and wide today for the pre-op appointment, had blood drawn, an EKG, a chest x-ray, and that all important challenge: peeing in a cup.  (Made extra special by hearing my name called for the EKG as soon as I sat on the toilet.)  I had to have a little cry when we left because it hit me, while I was changing into my stylish hospital gown, that the very next time I do that will be to have both of my breasts removed.  It overwhelmed me for a moment there.

I paid through the nose for my co-pay, made the young man registering me laugh really hard when he gave me the list of things NOT to bring: don’t bring a camera.  Really?  Who doesn’t want a photo journey through a bilateral mastectomy?!  Imagine the coffee table book you could make out of that! And, of course, they failed to include strippers and kegs on the list of things NOT to bring, so I feel confident that no one there will care if I have a bevy of strippers sending off my breasts.  Amateurs welcome.

My daughter got “sick” at school today, and had to be picked up.  They thought she was coming down with the stomach flu, so I arrived decked out in a mask.  Never underrate the value of mortifying your child, it leads to great threats of potential embarrassment should they misbehave in public!

I feel incredibly loved, and incredibly blessed, right now.  My best girlfriend arrives Sunday, another pair of wonderful friends are helping with the kids on Monday so I can wake up to see Becky’s face at the hospital.  I have friends popping into town for short visits tomorrow.  I have learned so very much about myself, and about the people I truly share my life with, and despite the bumps and bruises I cannot help but to feel immensely grateful.

Blessings to you all…and Happy Friday the 13th!

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