Testing, Testing … 1… 2 … 3


  • wake / breakfast


  • obsess about dying possibilities while waiting for the school bus


  • go to bed to nap but lay awake obsessing instead


  • give up. get up. clean up.


  • tidy the house, walk the yard, top off the water feature


  • do a mini round of applause when Master is in chat – and not just in chat but in the M/s room


  • have a terrific phone conversation


  • get the boys ready and into the car
  • hit the drive-through for lunch (because hey, I’m dying anyway. What difference does it make?)


  • check in at the doctor
  • get a bunch of forms
  • get a good chuckle about “Do you experience physical violence in the home?” Consider responding “Only if I am very, very good.” Decide that’s probably not a good idea given the situation.
  • get poked and prodded Have thorough exam
  • receive hope


  • the amazing DH handles setting up diagnostic testing appointments
  • make the 10 minute drive to radiology and be seen instantly
  • be poked and prodded some more have another exam
  • have a plastic zit purple target sticker applied to the offending location
  • have a vice applied to both breasts several times over diagnostic mammogram
  • repeatedly tell the technician that I kind of like pain reassure the technician that I’m tough and that I would rather experience momentary pain for as long and as often as necessary to achieve accurate, legible images
  • wait for the results of the wet read, topless, with a purple zit target on my breast


  • mosey down the hall, topless, with a purple zit target sticker on my breast, to the ultrasound facility
  • get poked and prodded some more have still another exam
  • confirm that the target sticker is in an accurate location and promptly have it removed
  • be forced to tolerate inane chit-chat from the technician while pretending she is not assessing whether or not I’m dying. have a lovely conversation about my family life
  • hear what seem like the sweetest words ever spoken I don’t see anything here to be concerned about
  • wait for the tech to come back with the final ruling from the doctor
  • hear what actually are the sweetest words ever spoken He agrees. You’re going to be just fine


  • make the drive home


  • celebrate with ice cream instead of dinner


  • check LM’s homework like everything is completely normal because, suddenly, it is
  • have bonus chat time with Master
  • get commanded
  • get wet


  • work on notes for task
  • sneeze repeatedly and with great force
  • decide to pretend it’s allergies
  • take a zyrtec


  • decide I’ve managed to catch whatever the boys have been passing back and forth because now I’m coughing and congested in addition to sneezing
  • do a mental happy dance because it’s not cancer


  • realize the boys have used up darn near every tissue in the house
  • make a run to the market for tissues because I now feel like crap and do not want to go tomorrow when I feel even worse


  • transcribe task notes for Master’s fetmail
  • consider sterilizing and creatively editing for blog post and decide it can wait because I’m likely not very funny while both exhausted and feeling like crap … and besides, the blog already has seemingly a million days worth of posts written and scheduled
  • celebrate the luxury of putting something off for 24 hours because, hey, I’m not dying


  • send and go to sleep lay awake while my nose does its best impersonation of a leaky faucet but .. hey … it’s not cancer

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