Short Story Long

It was a morning different than any other. In a matter of a little more than an hour, I managed to go to three doctor's appointments when I had only planned on one. And when the word "cancer" made it into the mix, it just got stranger.

I had an early appointment for my son to see the dermatologist. Eczema. Bummer. I had tried to get an appointment for myself also, but they were booked until after September (which is when my met insurance deductible starts over). I figured I could put it off. After all, it was nothing but a couple of new skin-colored moles I wanted to have checked. I also wanted to ask if there was something I could put on the scar on my forehead (No, it wasn't in the shape of a lightening bolt, it was more of a red splotch on the side by my hairline).

Before we went in for my son's appointment, I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask if the doctor could fit me in if I traveled to our neighbor city. The receptionist said no, but then told me I could be seen with my son since they had had a cancellation. It turned out that the scar was actually BCC...a type of skin cancer I've never heard of. Double bummer! So he cut a piece out of it to test and we set up an appointment to have the rest surgically removed.

I was okay with the news. They assured me this type of cancer is slow growing and that it doesn't spread throughout the body. I took my toddler to his dad and returned to the pharmacy to get the cream for my son's rash. While I was there, the receptionist from my OB office came in to fill a prescription for herself. She asked me if I was ready for my appointment.

My appointment?

I didn't even realize it was time for another OB visit already. Wow. Two weeks goes by so fast anymore, but what really blew my mind was the fact that I was dressed and ready, inside the building where my OB offices are, and that the receptionist came into the pharmacy to accidentally remind me I had an appointment...like in five minutes. What are the chances of that, really?

So this morning the dermatologist removed a piece from my head about the size of a quarter. I have a rather large bandage on my head that I am supposed to leave alone for two days, which means I get to take my daughter to her first day of school looking like I had an unfortunate run-in with something or someone.

After the surgery, I got my children from the sitter and took them to Arby's for a milkshake. The only problem with that was that I forgot my purse, but didn't realize it until after I'd already ordered. I explained at the window and went home for my purse. When I returned to pay, I apologized to the worker and he excused me by saying, "That's okay. It's obvious you've bumped your head." I laughed because, seriously! It looks like this:

I know the picture is blurry...I can't take a decent picture of myself. Some of the shots didn't even have me in them!

Quoting the Cute: Page Nine

In our family (and church), whenever we give a gospel-related talk or lesson or say a prayer or bear testimony, we close in the name of Jesus Christ and then say, "Amen." My six-year-old daughter gave our family home evening lesson last week. She told us the story of David and Goliath. When she was done I reminded her to close the lesson, so she said, "In the name of Jesus Christ, The End."

Three-year-old: "I wanna watch Bugs Rabbit!"

Twenty-month-old: He loves peek-a-boo and will say "Peeboo, see you!" always with a dimpled smile that makes me smile no matter how tired, grumpy, or sick I feel. The other morning, I opened my eyes to see his blue eyes only a few inches from my face. He said, "Peeboo," and ran away. I absolutely love it when he says, "Go!" to himself and then takes off running. I need to start doing that.

Time to do dishes. Go!

(P.S. This is an old post I just finally got around to posting.)