Another wonderful day in the war zone. Surgeon's ofice calls this morning, chest x-ray looks funky, need to rush in for a CT scan before surgery Friday. So I get that done and now will wait for a call from the doctor telling me what is up with my lung.
At this point, I start getting pissed. Not for me, but for my kids. This should not be the kinda stuff they should have to deal with. When I get mad, I want to chop down trees and stuff, really whack at something. So, we head of to the batting cage, where else can you swing at stuff so cheaply. Three dollars got me 45 pitches and I only missed one. Each of those balls represented those bleepy cancer cells. (Don't remind me that the one I missed may be the one that gets me.) That is only the second time in my life I have been in a batting cage, the first time was divorce anger management. Other than that, I haven't pick up a bat since elementary school.
I also did the go karts. My 10yo DD got to drive her own for the first time. I don't know if the kids were as into as I was, but I really needed a change of brain chemistry. We had a nice dinner, got the last of the pre-surgery grocery shopping done (I won't be able to drive for a week).
I am tired, not feeling like I am getting anything done and feel like this cancer is eating me alive. Give me a knife and I will start hacking at it myself. (I am sure the insurance company would love that!)