I have removed the comment verification feature because so many people are having problems posting. I’m hoping this will take care of that.
I had Katie unload dirty dishes from the dishwasher last night. I thought I had run it before I left for the doctor yesterday, but I discovered this morning I was wrong. She even said a couple times, “Are you sure these are clean?” To which she heard, “Yes! I’m sure! Now leave me alone so I can continue playing on my computer!” Maybe I should stop washing the dishes before loading the dishwasher so we’ll know for sure. Don’t worry, though. We’ll have used the dirty dishes and washed them before any of you will be coming for dinner. Promise.
It’s only 9:30 and already the outside temperature is 54. Nice. We’re having a lot of rain, too, which is fine because I can’t go anywhere today. The promise of spring and the rain makes me miss Arkansas. There’s always something about a particular region that makes it special and the pleasant thunderstorms of the South is one of the things I loved. Not the torrential downpours and tornado threats, but the good, drenching rain with the slow rumble of thunder in the distance. We had a ranch style house with a wonderful long porch along the front and a covered deck in the back. So when it was warm enough I would open the windows and let the fresh scents and the relaxing sound of the rain permeate the house. LOVED IT! While I’m very happy with our new house, it’s a Colonial and I can’t have opened windows if it’s raining. Oh well.
We’ve been invited by some neighbors to join the wine club they started last month. Todd and I aren’t big wine drinkers, but I do enjoy a glass now and then. Besides, the “meetings” include food. Good food. I’m sure I’ll be using all my Flex Points tonight at our first one. Also, these particular neighbors are just plain fun. I’m sure we’re going to have a great time. And no, not a drunken great time. Homey don’t play that.
I saw the White Russian yesterday (my oncologist) and I feel much better about everything than I have for quite some time. He was swamped, but he sat patiently while we discussed all the stuff that’s going on. While I’m nearly positive I’ve had a couple estrogen surges, there’s no proof. The only time my estrogen levels have been checked in the last long while has been while I was getting the Zoladex injections. So in order to have my ovaries removed I’d have to be tested for the BRCA gene. A person can’t just say, “I want genetic testing.” You have to go through counseling and they determine if you’re a good candidate. Because I have such a limited family history of cancer, I’m probably not a great candidate. It’s possible they won’t even test me. And I don’t want it anyway.
Because I have no breast tissue anymore there is no concern that estrogen will cause breast cancer. DUH! My chances of ovarian cancer are no higher than any other woman’s and I’m actually lucky in that I’m being followed closely. My tumor markers are checked every three months and if there’s ever a spike then I’ll have diagnostic testing. So even if my ovaries ARE working and I’m producing estrogen, it’s not a horrible thing for me. He’s going to keep an eye on my estrogen levels and if it turns out they are working, then I’ll maybe have them removed later. But it’s not the urgent matter I had been lead to believe. So I’m not going to be having any more surgery any time in the near future and what a relief that is!
He took a look at my blisters and said, “Oh. You have herpes.” Okay. That’s not really what he said. He said shingles, but you know, they’re part of the herpes family. Didn’t I say I thought it was a virus? Though it doesn’t present like classic shingles so he said it could be some other variation, but he’s certain it’s a virus. So now I’m on Valtrex, the same medicine in the genital herpes commercial. It makes me a little dizzy (dizzier than usual) so I had to forego my bible study this morning. :o(
Have you ever seen that old Cheech and Chong movie where the Middle Eastern guy is telling the hair dresser to “Take my hair piece”, but it sounds like he’s saying herpes and the hair dresser is saying, “No way, man. I don’t want your herpes.” “But I eenseest you take my harpese.” “I don’t want your herpes, man.” Yeah. Can you imagine how often I’ve heard this banter in the last 24 hours??
The White Russian was impressed with my boobs. From a very clinical standpoint, that is. And I proudly showed him the mole that used to be on my belly, but complained about the faint stretch marks that also made the transfer. I won’t be getting nipples until sometime in the fall and I almost blurted that Todd suggested I just use gumdrops, but thankfully stopped myself. I did tell the nurse who weighed me that I’d just started Weight Watchers and I was going to be a shadow of my former self the next time she weighed me. She was nice and feigned interest.
Sally and I really bonded yesterday. I love her. I think she loves me, too. Today is our one week anniversary. If I wasn’t so muddled I’d take her out to lunch.