This afternoon I was sitting between my husband and father just after my oxy had kicked in, and as I fought to keep my eyes open, I was reminded of this scene in the “Princess Bride” where Westley has been mostly dead all day, and his head rocks back and forth as they plan to storm the castle. It’s pretty lame to me that yesterday was a “big day” when all I did was go to a lame Dr’s appointment and sit in a camp chair alongside a pee-wee football practice.  It’s not acceptable that I have to pay for such a little jaunt by being sore & tired all day today.

Appointment is really overstating by calling it a doctor’s appointment, I was meeting with a Genetic Counselor, although there were a couple of docs in the room too. But the first 20 min was going over the family history that I provided on the phone when I made the appointment. The next 30 min were explaining why I would want the testing done, which is why I thought I’d made the appointment in the 1st place. The rest of the time was all about giving a tiny bit of blood, which by the way now will always have to come from my right arm because of the lymph node biopsy on my left.

It’s just a little annoying, since it felt like i could have signed something last week and had them take the blood while I was out like the people who I donated my breast tissue to, especially since I’ve already signed up for a second genetic test for research.  I figure if I can help research, why on earth would I not help?  Stepping off of soap box again.

Another point of confusion is all of the love, flowers, and food flowing into this house. We’ve decided that the reason that the plastic surgeon seemed to not think I would be able to lose more weight between now and reconstruction is because of the crazy amount of food we keep getting. The wonderful, sweet people who have been helping to feed my family are sending enough food to feed an army… every night. I’ve also got three flower arrangements, a dozen magazines, books, stuffed and plastic ninjas, and a month of housecleaning service. And that doesn’t even start on all of my wonderful ninjas who are sending love & prayers.

Between the being spoiled rotten by my boys, mom, dad and friends, I’m starting to feel like a big lump. As a friend put it today, the ability to not only accept, but ask for help can be rather humbling.

I’m planning to allow the spoiling thing for approximately one more week. Until then, as you wish!