Life is a whirl

I have been so busy the last few days. The visit to SIU Springfield was very good. Dr. Nicole Sommers is the plastic surgeon (her father Dr. Zook, was the original plastic surgeon I saw) seems very enthusiastic about my case. She gave accolades to Dr. Collins for being progressive enough to send me down there. Totally appropriate to do the breast reduction after the lumpectomy. Better to do it before the radiation, as the radiation will cause changes in the breast tissue, and make the reduction on the left much more difficult.

So, I am scheduled for the surgery on January 11 at 1:00pm. My cousin Nancy is coming down from Chicago to help me. Nancy is a retired surgical nurse. Her last job was at one of the surgicenters in downtown Chicago. She has helped with these procedures, so she will be a great help. We will spend Thursday night after the surgery at the State House Inn in Springfield. Before we leave town, we will stop by and see Dr. Sommers for a quick check.

I spent a lot of time the other day on the phone talking with Springfield, getting my pre-op registration and stuff down. Getting detail questions answered. This and I saw a full schedule of patients, plus worked down in convenient care after work. Same thing yesterday, making arrangements for the hotel, and boarding for Scooter.

Wayne told me that I don't have cancer. This was in response to a remark that I made that I could always play the "I have cancer" card, looking for a little sympathy. My remark was made lighthearted. He was fairly serious. He said that as they had cut out the cancer, I don't have cancer. Now, this is not because he has this wonderful great attitude about my survival. It is because I can't be disabled, because I have to take care of him. His main concern about the surgery and if I had to stay overnight in the hospital was who was going to take care of him. He is worse than a small child. I am sure that he is thinking, why are you going to torture yourself with surgery, when you don't have to. Just get the radiation, and keep working. He is also concerned that I don't have the sick time to cover my time off. Gotta have that money coming in, even though we can live quite comfortably without my salary.

Speaking of money and Wayne's material ways, we were at Applebee's last night with the Cunningham's for our usual Friday night outing. Wayne pulled into the handicap spot, and I got out to see if they were busy. When I got out, I told him he was crooked in the spot, and he was hanging over the side, into the next space. He moved it while I was inside. Only problem was the rebar that they use to secure the parking block was sticking up, and Wayne got his lower front bumper caught on it, and when he backed up it tore a whole in the bumper. The way he describes it, it tore off half the bumper. He was his usual very upset, angry. Called the manager over, an incident report was completed, they took photos (with a cell phone camera). Wayne wanted to call the police and file a report. Keith talked him out of it. Wayne is convinced now that his car will never be the same, even if they do an exceptional job. So I am sure he will take the loss, and trade it in for something else. So a small hole in Wayne's car bumper is taking major precedence over my breast cancer, which I don't have. I just need to keep taking care of his every need, and stop being so self-centered and stop worrying about myself. Worry about the things that matter. Like a bumper on a car. This is my life.