The Year of Living Cancerously

I reunited with The Dutchman, this morning, to receive the results of last week's mammogram.  (Good thing the man doesn't have to take my pulse when I'm with him:  still so hot!)  It's a year ago tomorrow that I had the mammogram that kicked off this little adventure.  My results from last week:  all clear.

I'm scheduled for an MRI in April, so we can keep tabs on the left side, but there's nothing to worry about.  I'll see The Pill on September 7, so he can provide me with a fresh supply of Tamoxifen.  And The Burn wants me to pop by in March for a look see, but otherwise, my social calendar won't involve much Princess Margaret anymore.

I came, I saw, I kicked its ass.

Pancakes

Mammogram day, so pancakes for breakfast.

Among the less obvious benefits of being generously endowed is that mammograms don't hurt -- they're barely even uncomfortable.  But, I was a little apprehensive about how my right breast would feel during the squishitude.  Three surgeries might have made it a little... um... sensitive.  In the end, it made no difference at all.  Four images -- two on each side -- and I was out the door.

Next stop, a reunion with The Dutchman to learn the results.  Six more sleeps...

I'm Over It

My plan to win the lottery didn't turn out quite the way I'd hoped on Friday.  I won, but a free ticket, rather than a major cash prize.  So, I went back to work on Monday.

I was welcomed back by 450+ emails in my inbox, and a few colleagues in the hallways.  Unfortunately, my boss couldn't find the time to stop by and say hello.  Eight hours back, and it's like I've never been gone.

Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho...

It's back to work I go, on Monday. Ugh. Sayonara siestas; hello kitty withdrawal.

The top three reasons why having cancer beats going to work are:

• you don't have to wear a suit to have cancer
• no one tells you how they would have cancer
• no one jockeys to replace you, when you have cancer

I fully expect to struggle with returning to a regular routine, after being without one for a couple of months. Alarm clocks and bedtimes and torpor, oh my!

There are two more lottery draws before the new work week begins, and I'll spend this afternoon at the track, so there's still hope of avoidance. Baby needs a new retirement plan.