Monday, September 22 - Friday, September 26

This week is a blur. It was rainy and Greta was supposed to have an XC race but it was cancelled. Lucia went to XC practice all week and Greta had several rehearsals for the musical. 

Wednesday was Greta's Back to School Night, and, for the first time ever, I didn't go. Andrew wen't alone. I had a good reason: Wednesday was prep day for my colonoscopy on Thursday (all clear!). I had to start fasting Tuesday night, and I was already starving by 10 a.m. on Wednesday. I worked from home, finding myself reflexively planning to go to the kitchen for a snack, and then realizing there could be no snack. I was absolutely starving. Drinking 32 ounces of Gatorade mixed with Miralax was no solace. 

I had to get up at 2 a.m. to drink another 32 ounces of this terrible mixture, so I went downstairs to watch Gilmore Girls and power through. It took me a long time to drink that much. Farrah came downstairs too and snuggled up with me on the couch the entire time, the perfect support doodle. 

The procedure was Thursday morning, at Magee, and it was pretty awful to go back to the same surgical suite I was in back in November. But everything went fine, and the doctor gave me the all-clear. Very glad it's over. Andrew went out afterwards and got us a Philly cheeseseak for lunch, best meal ever.

A quick rant: In the waiting area, after I'd changed into the hospital gown, I was asked several times by several nurses about whether I could be pregnant, and when my last period was, and each time I pointed out (at first politely, then testily) that I have had a radical hysterectomy so there is definitely no pregnancy and no periods. I know they are just reading standard questions, but you'd think this would be SOMEWHERE in the documentation, maybe right alongside the list of medications I'm allergic to. Everyone sees that! Why can't they also see a list (a lengthy list) of all the organs I no longer have? Also, the anesthesiologist came in and asked me a bunch of questions about various afflictions (high blood pressure, diabetes), and after my string of no's he said, "Great--you're healthy!" I couldn't stop myself from giving him a withering look of disbelief and pointing out that no, with low-grade serous ovarion cancer I am actually the absolute opposite of healthy. Again--seriously? This is something that was said to me? I am literally in the SAME PREP ROOM I was in before my massive surgery for said cancer, and I'm being declared the picture of health. Absurd. 

I was already up and fully dressed by the time Andrew came into the recovery room. I couldn't get out of that hospital fast enough.

Today, Friday, I'm typing this blog while five middle schoolers are shrieking in the basement--Greta has a few friends from her XC team over to, once again, bedazzle their spikes. There has also been a hysterical sing-along to "Cotton-Eye Joe" and other songs. I'm not sure how much bedazzling is actually happening, but they're definitely having a good time.