Hoorah! D-Day approacheth! Tomorrow, the surgery. I eventually went into manic mode, cleaned the house and got the grocery shopping in, which is far more a norm for me than this constant drooping about like a wet rag.
The week DID improve rather dramatically, as I had a load of lovely girls round for dinner on Friday night – originally it was just for we Cancery Types, but it turned into a free for all, and was good fun. And good therapy. Everyone brought some food, some wine and I got more beautiful birthday flowers. Spoilt. So, no cooking! Yippee! We had enough food for the 40 000! When the chaps came to pick up their other halves we were begging them to eat some of it. The FH was chuffed to find some sustenance waiting after his cold walk home from the pub.
Partay! I really need a haircut!
My worry about catching a cold came true; Friday and Saturday I was sneezing like a mad thing, but I am now down to just an itchy nose and a sniff. I am hoping that doesn't affect tomorrow's surgery. If it does, I shall be having a
minor MAJOR nervous breakdown.
The amount of e-cards, cards, prayers, wishes and good luck are [as always] so touching. Thanks everyone. Sometimes when I am just about at my wits end, someone does or says just the right thing, and I am back with the program. It has been a weird few weeks, up, down, cross, sad – but now I am going in, I am sorted. Action is always a good thing in my book.
Here's hoping that:
A: Renninson can blow me up properly with the Carbon Dioxide [if he can't it'll be open surgery again – ugh]. It may be that there are too many adhesions in there from the last Laff Riot, glueing everything together.
B: He can see what it is straight away – now wouldn't that be fun?
C: that I get my biopsy results at speed.
And last, but certainly not least, that it's just scar tissue. Positive thinking, all will be well…and all manner of things will be well.