Okay, that really isn't the question. It's more like to biopsy or not to biopsy?
I had my spot magnification mammogram yesterday. I got to see the first mammogram. The two calcifications glowed a bright white. They looked kinda like a snake bite. The technician used that to line up the magnification mammogram. The head on view was a piece of cake. Next came the side view. OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I had a pain all the way to my back. My armpit had an agonizing pain deep in the center. The technician asked me if I was okay, and I said sure. Duh! Apparently that answer meant I could with stand a few more pounds of pressure placed on my breast! I must have been as flat as a pancake! Which many of you who know me knows that that must have been quite an accomplishment. I'm no Dolly Parton but I'm not small either.
Then the technician develops them and tells me she is taking them to the radiologist. Last time I didn't wait too long before the technician came back and told me I could go. This time I sat. And sat. And sat. I sat long enough to begin to worry that perhaps there really was something wrong. Shortly after that thought went through my head the technician reappeared. She told me that the radiologist feels that the calcifications are probably benign but highly recommends a biopsy. If I choose not to biospy then I must come in every six months for a year to watch them.
Now, I've gone and done some research on calcifications and mammograms. If you scroll down on the last web site there are actual mammograms for your viewing pleasure. Look for the "Knotted suture calcifications". They are the closest looking to what mine looked like on the first screening. I did not have an opportunity to see the spot magnification films. So I might be missing some details.
As you can tell, I've done my research. I'm ready for when my doctor calls me. I've got several questions for her. Like what BI-RADS category did the radiologist assign to my calcifications. If she answers with a 0 or 1 or even 2 category I am simply not going to go in for a biopsy and really question the necessity of semi-annual mammograms. If it is rated a 3 then I will go dutifully every six months for a mammogram. I reserve the biopsy for a rating of 4. I also want to know what kind of calcification it is and the distribution modifier used to describe them.
I'm feeling rather empowered right now. I am not fearful. Since I don't have a whole lot of information on this I am amazingly calm. My sister I/I told me to call the doc's office no later than Friday if I haven't heard from them. She also told me not to take any gruff from them. Simply explain to the individual I'm talking to that I would like to discuss with the doctor the attitude of the individual. Though this may not be a big deal for her it is my health and well being not hers. I love my sister I/I. She's helped me through so much in my life.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
More memories
The day I gave birth to Storyteller was a beautiful February day. I had just started my maternity from work. I wanted a few days with Drama Queen before the new baby came.
It was Monday. I had been up most of the night visiting the toilet. My bladder appeared to have weakened overnight, and I was actually worried that I might have a bladder infection. When I got out of bed that morning I just didn't feel right. Passionfruit was home working on his thesis. I remember walking into his cluttered office telling him how sorry I was but I think I was going to need his help today. I know he was frustrated; he wanted to get the accursed thesis done.
Then I wandered back out to the living room. DQ was there tearing up the newspaper. That was a favorite activity. I read to her and played with her. Soon she got hungry. It was time for lunch. I remember thinking that I really didn't feel right. Nothing that I could explain. I just didn't feel right. I got us lunch. I ate a sandwich with Miracle Whip on it. Which I later regreted as I lost my stomache contents a few hours later.
Soon I really didn't feel right. I called the nurses and told them that I really didn't feel right and that I was urinating frequently. They told me to go to the hospital and get checked. So I started gathering up DQ and making calls to my siblings that had a role to play. My brother and his wife were going to take DQ, and my sister was my coach along with Passionfruit.
While we were driving into town I watched the beautiful blue sky. There were those streaky white clouds. As we neared town I decided I must be in labor because I had developed a bad crampy backache. It was like a bad menstrual cycle.
When we got to the parking lot it was so warm I didn't need a jacket. Passionfruit parked the car and I got out and started walking into the hospital. (I know that sounds awful but at the time I thought I could make it. And I did, too.) During that walk into the hospital I got so emotional that I was crying by the time I got to the elevator. I remember walking up to the desk crying. I said, "I think I'm in labor." The nurse looked at me and said, "Honey, didn't you go to the classes?" I said, "Of course."
"Then why are you crying?"
I'm thinking, "How the hell should I know? Do you think it just might be all the stupid hormonal changes that goes on during labor?" But instead, I just said, "I'm scared."
The next thing I know I'm in a room the size of a walk-in closet. They have a stupid TV going. The nurse touches my tummy and says, "How long have you had this contraction?"
"What contraction?" I asked.
Nurse puts my hand on my tummy and says this is a contraction. How long has it lasted. I answered with "I don't know. I didn't feel anything." Her next question, how long has the labor been going on? "I don't know. I didn't realize I was in labor. I didn't realize I was having contractions. I just know I haven't been feeling right all day."
Then she asks, "What does not feeling right mean?" "Duh, I just didn't feel right. Nothing I could put my finger on; that's why I'm here." Nurse told me, "Well your in labor."
So I'm stuck in this tiny room. Waiting for the labor to pick-up the pace. It seems like I'm there along time. Finally the nurse tells me I can go to the labor room. They get me up and walk me over there. Usually I have a pretty good stride but not now. Now I am barely able to put one foot in front of the other. The walk to the room is one of the longest I've taken in my life.
Now I'm laboring in one of their fancy birthing rooms. Time moves slowly it seems. Finally I'm told I can push. I ask for the birthing bar. They have to run around looking for it. Seems no one ever uses it so they can't seem to remember where it is. I was doing all of this without drugs. Around 6 PM, I had had a half a shot of morphine. I didn't think it helped anything so I thought, "Screw it! No more."
At some point my sister says, "Look up!" I did. There in the door way is a bunch of hospital folks. They are all standing around watching. Not only was I doing a natural birth I apparently was quiet about the whole thing. They had never seen someone labor quietly.
Finally, little Storyteller's head comes out and the doctor suctions her. Then Passionfruit moves between my legs and catches Storyteller as she finishes her journey. Next Passionfruit gets to cut the umbilical cord. He messes up his first attempt. I remind him that there is no way he can hurt me or the baby because there are no nerves there. Passionfruit tries again and cuts the cord perfectly. He looks at Storyteller and tells me she is beautiful which she is. She is perfect. Her head is perfect her face is a pretty color of pink. Her nails are perfect-- topped with rounded half moons. Her hair is intriguing-- dark brown with the tips being blond. Her nose is perfect. Storyteller came into the world at 10:37 PM. To this today she continues to be a night owl. Wandering nocturnally through our house but the most amazing thing of all is she is a morning girl, too!
It was Monday. I had been up most of the night visiting the toilet. My bladder appeared to have weakened overnight, and I was actually worried that I might have a bladder infection. When I got out of bed that morning I just didn't feel right. Passionfruit was home working on his thesis. I remember walking into his cluttered office telling him how sorry I was but I think I was going to need his help today. I know he was frustrated; he wanted to get the accursed thesis done.
Then I wandered back out to the living room. DQ was there tearing up the newspaper. That was a favorite activity. I read to her and played with her. Soon she got hungry. It was time for lunch. I remember thinking that I really didn't feel right. Nothing that I could explain. I just didn't feel right. I got us lunch. I ate a sandwich with Miracle Whip on it. Which I later regreted as I lost my stomache contents a few hours later.
Soon I really didn't feel right. I called the nurses and told them that I really didn't feel right and that I was urinating frequently. They told me to go to the hospital and get checked. So I started gathering up DQ and making calls to my siblings that had a role to play. My brother and his wife were going to take DQ, and my sister was my coach along with Passionfruit.
While we were driving into town I watched the beautiful blue sky. There were those streaky white clouds. As we neared town I decided I must be in labor because I had developed a bad crampy backache. It was like a bad menstrual cycle.
When we got to the parking lot it was so warm I didn't need a jacket. Passionfruit parked the car and I got out and started walking into the hospital. (I know that sounds awful but at the time I thought I could make it. And I did, too.) During that walk into the hospital I got so emotional that I was crying by the time I got to the elevator. I remember walking up to the desk crying. I said, "I think I'm in labor." The nurse looked at me and said, "Honey, didn't you go to the classes?" I said, "Of course."
"Then why are you crying?"
I'm thinking, "How the hell should I know? Do you think it just might be all the stupid hormonal changes that goes on during labor?" But instead, I just said, "I'm scared."
The next thing I know I'm in a room the size of a walk-in closet. They have a stupid TV going. The nurse touches my tummy and says, "How long have you had this contraction?"
"What contraction?" I asked.
Nurse puts my hand on my tummy and says this is a contraction. How long has it lasted. I answered with "I don't know. I didn't feel anything." Her next question, how long has the labor been going on? "I don't know. I didn't realize I was in labor. I didn't realize I was having contractions. I just know I haven't been feeling right all day."
Then she asks, "What does not feeling right mean?" "Duh, I just didn't feel right. Nothing I could put my finger on; that's why I'm here." Nurse told me, "Well your in labor."
So I'm stuck in this tiny room. Waiting for the labor to pick-up the pace. It seems like I'm there along time. Finally the nurse tells me I can go to the labor room. They get me up and walk me over there. Usually I have a pretty good stride but not now. Now I am barely able to put one foot in front of the other. The walk to the room is one of the longest I've taken in my life.
Now I'm laboring in one of their fancy birthing rooms. Time moves slowly it seems. Finally I'm told I can push. I ask for the birthing bar. They have to run around looking for it. Seems no one ever uses it so they can't seem to remember where it is. I was doing all of this without drugs. Around 6 PM, I had had a half a shot of morphine. I didn't think it helped anything so I thought, "Screw it! No more."
At some point my sister says, "Look up!" I did. There in the door way is a bunch of hospital folks. They are all standing around watching. Not only was I doing a natural birth I apparently was quiet about the whole thing. They had never seen someone labor quietly.
Finally, little Storyteller's head comes out and the doctor suctions her. Then Passionfruit moves between my legs and catches Storyteller as she finishes her journey. Next Passionfruit gets to cut the umbilical cord. He messes up his first attempt. I remind him that there is no way he can hurt me or the baby because there are no nerves there. Passionfruit tries again and cuts the cord perfectly. He looks at Storyteller and tells me she is beautiful which she is. She is perfect. Her head is perfect her face is a pretty color of pink. Her nails are perfect-- topped with rounded half moons. Her hair is intriguing-- dark brown with the tips being blond. Her nose is perfect. Storyteller came into the world at 10:37 PM. To this today she continues to be a night owl. Wandering nocturnally through our house but the most amazing thing of all is she is a morning girl, too!
Monday, July 24, 2006
The past crashing down
This morning while walking Miss Independence to preschool there was something about the morning that threw me back into the past. I so vividly remembered walking along the road in my housing development. I had my brand new shoes on that had rubber soles. The heel on those soles looked like a horseshoe.
So, I started walking on my heels with my toes pointed high in the air. That way I left only a horseshoe impression in the soft sand that collected along the curb of the street. I really thought I was so clever. I remember I had so much fun walking that way.
Soon I was thinking about Drama Queen because the shoes I remembered had a couple of inches to the heel. DQ so loves high heels and anything girly but she is still a little girl, and I could see her walking the very same way.
Later that morning I read Adjective Queen’s blog. She was reminiscing about visiting family, and once again I had vivid memories crashing over me. I remember our annual vacation as a child. We went and visited our grandparents. We would spend three miserable days in the car. This was before minivans. Even if they existed I don’t think my parents would have bought one. I think they took great satisfaction in seeing how many children and suitcases they could cram into a four door sedan. My most vivid memories are of the Chevy Nova we had for twenty some years.
Anyway we would drive half way across the continent to see our parent’s parents and their siblings. We would stay at my Grandpap’s for a few days and then we would pack up and stay with my Grandma. Then we would pack up and stay with my Grandpap and then back to my Grandma’s. In between we would go to different uncles and aunts’ houses to have dinner. My father’s family was relatively okay. The main problem there was our cousins thought we were all a bunch of country bumpkins. They lived all their lives in a big city and had tough city mannerisms. We were a bunch of Air Force brats that behaved in a regimented way. We had to. Our father’s very livelihood depended on our behavior. Most civilians don’t know this but your Dad could loose his stripes based on your behavior. Walk on the grass… RIIIIIIPP! There goes a stripe. There goes the money that fed you. Dare to TP a house... RIIIIIIIPP! RIIIIIIIIIIIIIP! There goes a couple of stripes and the money that fed you.
But I digress. The real big memory that came back to me reading Adjective Queen’s entry is my mother’s family. I remember sitting in the car watching my mother’s older sister chew her out. My mom hadn’t done a thing to earn this treatment other than to be alive. I remember watching the scene and being scared. The livid red face, the spittle flying, the hands gesturing erratically. My mom’s face turning pale, crest-fallen. I remember wondering why we kept going there because none of us ever had a good time. I think my older brother was the only one that did have a good time but he was old enough to blow off the family and go his own way, and my oldest brother didn’t even have to go on these annual summer sojourns.
Now with my own family I don’t torture the children with endless visits to family. When we go on vacation… we go on vacation and visit family along the way. We spend an afternoon with this aunt and uncle. We spend an evening visiting that uncle and aunt. But we always have a destination in mind and rarely do we spend an overnighter with family. Although, we do have a few family members that we enjoy visiting longer and we do go and see them.
No, what amazes me today is how the past can be replayed in your head like the days, weeks, months and years that seperate you from the event never happened. It all was just yesterday. I opened with a memory of something that was about 25 years ago. The other was even older (31 yrs.) but despite those years I was still sitting in that car watching my mother getting attacked. Amazing.
So, I started walking on my heels with my toes pointed high in the air. That way I left only a horseshoe impression in the soft sand that collected along the curb of the street. I really thought I was so clever. I remember I had so much fun walking that way.
Soon I was thinking about Drama Queen because the shoes I remembered had a couple of inches to the heel. DQ so loves high heels and anything girly but she is still a little girl, and I could see her walking the very same way.
Later that morning I read Adjective Queen’s blog. She was reminiscing about visiting family, and once again I had vivid memories crashing over me. I remember our annual vacation as a child. We went and visited our grandparents. We would spend three miserable days in the car. This was before minivans. Even if they existed I don’t think my parents would have bought one. I think they took great satisfaction in seeing how many children and suitcases they could cram into a four door sedan. My most vivid memories are of the Chevy Nova we had for twenty some years.
Anyway we would drive half way across the continent to see our parent’s parents and their siblings. We would stay at my Grandpap’s for a few days and then we would pack up and stay with my Grandma. Then we would pack up and stay with my Grandpap and then back to my Grandma’s. In between we would go to different uncles and aunts’ houses to have dinner. My father’s family was relatively okay. The main problem there was our cousins thought we were all a bunch of country bumpkins. They lived all their lives in a big city and had tough city mannerisms. We were a bunch of Air Force brats that behaved in a regimented way. We had to. Our father’s very livelihood depended on our behavior. Most civilians don’t know this but your Dad could loose his stripes based on your behavior. Walk on the grass… RIIIIIIPP! There goes a stripe. There goes the money that fed you. Dare to TP a house... RIIIIIIIPP! RIIIIIIIIIIIIIP! There goes a couple of stripes and the money that fed you.
But I digress. The real big memory that came back to me reading Adjective Queen’s entry is my mother’s family. I remember sitting in the car watching my mother’s older sister chew her out. My mom hadn’t done a thing to earn this treatment other than to be alive. I remember watching the scene and being scared. The livid red face, the spittle flying, the hands gesturing erratically. My mom’s face turning pale, crest-fallen. I remember wondering why we kept going there because none of us ever had a good time. I think my older brother was the only one that did have a good time but he was old enough to blow off the family and go his own way, and my oldest brother didn’t even have to go on these annual summer sojourns.
Now with my own family I don’t torture the children with endless visits to family. When we go on vacation… we go on vacation and visit family along the way. We spend an afternoon with this aunt and uncle. We spend an evening visiting that uncle and aunt. But we always have a destination in mind and rarely do we spend an overnighter with family. Although, we do have a few family members that we enjoy visiting longer and we do go and see them.
No, what amazes me today is how the past can be replayed in your head like the days, weeks, months and years that seperate you from the event never happened. It all was just yesterday. I opened with a memory of something that was about 25 years ago. The other was even older (31 yrs.) but despite those years I was still sitting in that car watching my mother getting attacked. Amazing.
Friday, July 21, 2006
land lines and over lines
Three days ago our phone line was cut by a neighbor. Yesterday we got use of our phone back but only through terribly primitive method: a cable run from the box across the street, up to our box on the house. This in turn caused other neighbors to complain about the cable crossing the street where anyone could pick it up... most notably a small child. Our neighborhood happens to have lots of children, several of them are small.
I understand their concern, I, afterall, have three small girls. But it's one of those damned if you do and damned if you don't situations. I have small children ergo the cable lying on the ground sucks big time. I have three small children ergo I need a land line to call for emergency help should the need arise.
The damnested part of the whole fiasco is: I'm not responsible for the whole situation! I came home from work on Monday and witnessed my neighbor cut my lines. When I confronted him he told me that he thought it was trash stuck in the asphalt. Why was he even concerned about the asphalt? Well his semi-trailer truck gouged a hole in the asphalt. He was trying to fix the hole. Wire got in the way. Whack! It's gone! So is my phone service!
The only relatively good thing that came out of all of this is Passionfruit finally got to tell the neighbors all the things we don't like about their behavior. The small sun left on all week end. "Makes nights miserable." The cans of chemicals found in our yard. "Yeah, we aren't too happy about our children being poisoned." Loud noises at night. "Again, makes nights miserable." You planted a tree in our yard. "Ever hear of encroachment? How about we plant poison ivy in your yard?" Man, Passionfruit had other things, I just can't think of what they are. I really couldn't believe Passionfruit. He really took the neighbor to task.
But I really don't know why this surprises me. Passionfruit has always been my knight in shining armour. I don't like conflict so I keep my mouth shut. Until I loose my temper and can't take anymore, then I explode like a land mine. But Passionfruit, who also doesn't like conflict, will calmly approach those that transgress against us and respectfully address our concerns. He is truly gifted in mediation.
When the house was being built and they laid the wrong carpet down, I was going to accept it and move on... not Passionfruit. He talked to the builder and got the proper carpet put in before we moved. Unfortunately, I haven't learned this skill from him. I'm too emotional. I get all upset. I shake with fury. I end up in TEARS! What a weanie I am!
So if anyone has been trying to get a hold of us and the phone kept on ringing? Now you know. Why didn't I write sooner? Well the stupid line was cut!@!
I understand their concern, I, afterall, have three small girls. But it's one of those damned if you do and damned if you don't situations. I have small children ergo the cable lying on the ground sucks big time. I have three small children ergo I need a land line to call for emergency help should the need arise.
The damnested part of the whole fiasco is: I'm not responsible for the whole situation! I came home from work on Monday and witnessed my neighbor cut my lines. When I confronted him he told me that he thought it was trash stuck in the asphalt. Why was he even concerned about the asphalt? Well his semi-trailer truck gouged a hole in the asphalt. He was trying to fix the hole. Wire got in the way. Whack! It's gone! So is my phone service!
The only relatively good thing that came out of all of this is Passionfruit finally got to tell the neighbors all the things we don't like about their behavior. The small sun left on all week end. "Makes nights miserable." The cans of chemicals found in our yard. "Yeah, we aren't too happy about our children being poisoned." Loud noises at night. "Again, makes nights miserable." You planted a tree in our yard. "Ever hear of encroachment? How about we plant poison ivy in your yard?" Man, Passionfruit had other things, I just can't think of what they are. I really couldn't believe Passionfruit. He really took the neighbor to task.
But I really don't know why this surprises me. Passionfruit has always been my knight in shining armour. I don't like conflict so I keep my mouth shut. Until I loose my temper and can't take anymore, then I explode like a land mine. But Passionfruit, who also doesn't like conflict, will calmly approach those that transgress against us and respectfully address our concerns. He is truly gifted in mediation.
When the house was being built and they laid the wrong carpet down, I was going to accept it and move on... not Passionfruit. He talked to the builder and got the proper carpet put in before we moved. Unfortunately, I haven't learned this skill from him. I'm too emotional. I get all upset. I shake with fury. I end up in TEARS! What a weanie I am!
So if anyone has been trying to get a hold of us and the phone kept on ringing? Now you know. Why didn't I write sooner? Well the stupid line was cut!@!
Monday, July 17, 2006
Maudlin- easily moved to tears
I am maudlin. It sounds so horrible to be maudlin. But it is true. It is horrible to be maudlin. No one respects you when you are maudlin. You are viewed as weak.
I don't listen to the news; alright, I try not to listen to the news. I definitely don't watch TV news. If I do I often find myself bawling my eyes out at other peoples misfortunes. I work hard at insulating myself so I am not a blubber machine.
Recently NPR covered the anniversary of the London bombings. I remember that day so clearly. I took the girls to breakfast at a little cafe in Boulder. They happened to have a TV going. I saw the reports coming in about the terrorist attacks. Suddenly I'm hit with a flashback to 9/11. I was away from home for that one, too. My girls looked at me while I silently bawled my eyes out at this cafe. I just couldn't believe that this happened.
Anyway, the reporter talked about the kinds of things that were left at the sight of the bus bombing. The one that reduced me to a blubbering idiot was the teddy bear or was it a picture with a note saying, "I miss you, Mommy." My heart ached for that child; for the father; for the mother; for the grandparents. For everyone who aches because they no longer have that individual in their life.
Maudlin? Empathy? Call it what you will. I just know that I've spent a life time in tears. Tears for myself and tears for others. If only my tears could be of some benefit to something...
I don't listen to the news; alright, I try not to listen to the news. I definitely don't watch TV news. If I do I often find myself bawling my eyes out at other peoples misfortunes. I work hard at insulating myself so I am not a blubber machine.
Recently NPR covered the anniversary of the London bombings. I remember that day so clearly. I took the girls to breakfast at a little cafe in Boulder. They happened to have a TV going. I saw the reports coming in about the terrorist attacks. Suddenly I'm hit with a flashback to 9/11. I was away from home for that one, too. My girls looked at me while I silently bawled my eyes out at this cafe. I just couldn't believe that this happened.
Anyway, the reporter talked about the kinds of things that were left at the sight of the bus bombing. The one that reduced me to a blubbering idiot was the teddy bear or was it a picture with a note saying, "I miss you, Mommy." My heart ached for that child; for the father; for the mother; for the grandparents. For everyone who aches because they no longer have that individual in their life.
Maudlin? Empathy? Call it what you will. I just know that I've spent a life time in tears. Tears for myself and tears for others. If only my tears could be of some benefit to something...
Thursday, July 06, 2006
My kitchen table
This is the day Bethany comes! Bethany is a young college girl working her little heart out to get through school. Personally I think she is over extending herself. She's working like three or four jobs now. I hired her to clean my house once a week. She's been coming to our house for two years now.
Anyway, I'm always excited by this event. See, I have a kitchen table. It is an oval top on top of a pedastool bottom. Passionfruit bought this for me for our fifth anniversary. I love this table but that's not why I'm excited. What's really exciting is Bethany cleaning. Everytime she comes the table moves to a different orientation in the room or a different location. I look forward to see where it might be in the room or how she aligns it under the light fixture. She has done somethings I never even thought of but I truly liked the results.
I'm pretty certain I'm the only one that feels this way. In fact, I know that Drama Queen is frequently put out because Bethany doesn't get the seating back properly. Usually it is DQ's chair that isn't in the proper place. The other three family members don't seem to react at all to the moving table.
So I sit here wondering, "where will the kitchen table be today?" Hmmmm? Will it tick off Drama Queen? Just a little bit of joy in an ordinary day.
Anyway, I'm always excited by this event. See, I have a kitchen table. It is an oval top on top of a pedastool bottom. Passionfruit bought this for me for our fifth anniversary. I love this table but that's not why I'm excited. What's really exciting is Bethany cleaning. Everytime she comes the table moves to a different orientation in the room or a different location. I look forward to see where it might be in the room or how she aligns it under the light fixture. She has done somethings I never even thought of but I truly liked the results.
I'm pretty certain I'm the only one that feels this way. In fact, I know that Drama Queen is frequently put out because Bethany doesn't get the seating back properly. Usually it is DQ's chair that isn't in the proper place. The other three family members don't seem to react at all to the moving table.
So I sit here wondering, "where will the kitchen table be today?" Hmmmm? Will it tick off Drama Queen? Just a little bit of joy in an ordinary day.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Everything's sagging
Well sorry I've been gone so long but life takes over. I am not a computer/internet phile so I'm not totally addicted to signing on and losing time. Last week I took the week off. Drama Queen and Storyteller had ballet camp. Instead of rushing around I took time off and had a leisurely vacation for myself. Originally I was going to work on our house we never sold but Passionfruit got whiff of my plan and went control freak on me. So after all that I told the man he could sell the house all by himself. I was quite pissed off so I went out and bought myself a couple of shorts and some blouses. Then I went out and bought DQ and ST twin beds. That'll teach Passionfruit not to piss me off! Which by the way I wished I had gotten the beds earlier because ST is staying in bed through the night. (Knock on wood!) Passionfruit is on a "we are too poor kick to buy anything big". So I just went with the bare bones mattress/foundation and frame set up.
The beds arrived on a Thursday. I spent most of Thursday cleaning the girls bedroom. While I cleaned the room I got a call from the doctor's office. They had the results for both of the procedures. My mammogram should some calcification growing on my right side. So I'm heading for more procedures on that front. The pelvic ultrasound should that my left ovary is low lying. Essentially not only are my breasts and ass sagging from age but apparently my ovary sags with age as well. This idea came from my very supportive sister-in-law, Bananna. (See I finally named you!)
So for all those who may have been worried, never fear, I'm still out here! I'm alive and kicking. Life in our house has pretty much settled down. Miss Independence is not getting in trouble daily at school. MI must have picked up on the undercurrents going on at the time. Amazingly ST didn't seem to pick up on the charged environment or she is just old enough to have coping mechanisms.
Oh by the way, Passionfruit took the beds very well. I really expected him to throw a fit. On Thursday I encouraged him to stay late at work. Which he did because there are lots of deadlines coming up for him; I love information, so many times you can use it to your advantage all under the guise of supportive spouse. I don't know when Passionfruit came home Thursday but Friday morning his comment to me was, "I'm going to go fix myself breakfast. I'll try not to trip over the beds out there." See I left the toddler beds in the front room, you have to walk through that room to get to our bedroom. I asked him if he was mad, and Passionfruit said, "Quite frankly I'm relieved not to have to make a decision." So in the end I didn't even get the satisfaction of upsetting Passionfruit. That's okay. I love him very much, and I really didn't want too much fracas in our life anyway.
The beds arrived on a Thursday. I spent most of Thursday cleaning the girls bedroom. While I cleaned the room I got a call from the doctor's office. They had the results for both of the procedures. My mammogram should some calcification growing on my right side. So I'm heading for more procedures on that front. The pelvic ultrasound should that my left ovary is low lying. Essentially not only are my breasts and ass sagging from age but apparently my ovary sags with age as well. This idea came from my very supportive sister-in-law, Bananna. (See I finally named you!)
So for all those who may have been worried, never fear, I'm still out here! I'm alive and kicking. Life in our house has pretty much settled down. Miss Independence is not getting in trouble daily at school. MI must have picked up on the undercurrents going on at the time. Amazingly ST didn't seem to pick up on the charged environment or she is just old enough to have coping mechanisms.
Oh by the way, Passionfruit took the beds very well. I really expected him to throw a fit. On Thursday I encouraged him to stay late at work. Which he did because there are lots of deadlines coming up for him; I love information, so many times you can use it to your advantage all under the guise of supportive spouse. I don't know when Passionfruit came home Thursday but Friday morning his comment to me was, "I'm going to go fix myself breakfast. I'll try not to trip over the beds out there." See I left the toddler beds in the front room, you have to walk through that room to get to our bedroom. I asked him if he was mad, and Passionfruit said, "Quite frankly I'm relieved not to have to make a decision." So in the end I didn't even get the satisfaction of upsetting Passionfruit. That's okay. I love him very much, and I really didn't want too much fracas in our life anyway.
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