Well, Angela worked her magic once again and the biopsy that was scheduled for late next week happened today. I got a call from the Imaging Center asking if I could show up in two hours.
Of course I could. I had showered, but I was wearing my ratty sewing clothes. (“Sewing clothes”, you ask? Yes, because they are covered in lint, threads and tiny shreds of fabric trimmings. I keep the rest of my clothes thread-free, for the most part. I even have sewing socks.)
I had been dozing on the couch when I got the call. It was one of those mornings, folks. There was not enough coffee in the world to get me to function like a human being and I had given up trying.
But after the call I burst into action except…I couldn’t find my purse. Banjo Man and I scoured the house, up and down. We finally found it buried in a basket of dirty laundry.
And no, I don’t have any idea how that happened, but I know it was my doing and no one else’s.
So we’re back home and all is well. It’s pretty easy when you’ve been through it once before. And everyone was lovely.
Thank goodness Banjo Man took advantage of being close to Trader Joe’s and got a little shopping in while I was having my breast stabbed. Afterwards I ate a bowl of squash soup at Panera’s while he hit the mid-week sales at another grocery store. Supermarkets are his happy place.
The Novocaine has not worn off and nothing hurts, so I am going to put my sewing clothes back on and stitch triangle borders together for a little while.
I can’t expect results until Tuesday (long weekend–boo, hiss!), so we’re going to try to put it out of our minds and relax. We started watching “The Kominsky Method” last night on Netflix and were surprised that we enjoyed it as much as we did.
(I could have done without a lead character’s wife dying of cancer in the first episode, but the show is clever and interesting.)
And SURVIVOR, one of our very favorite shows, begins tonight with a two-hour opener. So don’t worry about us. We’re okay. Honest.