We're almost moved in, and we're adjusting to life at the old folk's home. It will be interesting to say least. To get our stuff here we enlisted the help of friends and family and then treated them to beer and BBQ. This was a tiring week, but it's almost over.

Two nights ago we watched 5 foxes play on my new/old neighbor's driveway. It was great! My kids were taking their baths,and I told them to get out and take a look. Grif jumped out and ran to their room where we could see them. Eva stayed in her bath. She has a habit of not listening to anyone. Finally Grif couldn't stand it any more. He started hollering at her to get out or she'd miss 'em. She jumped out, I handed her a towel, and she ran to the bedroom. She watched the foxes for awhile getting all giddy and dropping her towel on floor. I had walked back to my room when I heard her giggling and yelling something at the top of her voice. I turned and saw a small, naked, pink human skipping down the hallway screaming, "it's exciting! It's exciting! It's exciting!".

There are somethings that are going to happen here that will make this all worthwhile.

I have one last treatment to go through. I kicked PA out for not helping in the hairiest (baldest) of times. I moved in with my folks to have someone around during the scariest of moments.

I'm scared of the next one. The last one I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking that if I fell asleep, I'd die. I kept hearing cracking noises, and if anything moved, I saw tracers just like I did when I tripped in highschool/ early college. The first one I thought of death. The second I just thought sucked. This one I actually thought I was dying. That's a weird feeling. I don't want it ever again.

I couldn't take care of PinkZilla. I needed someone in the medical field around me. PA was smoking crack that whole time completely oblivious to what was going on in his home. This why we're at my folks. It's temporary (2 weeks more). I know you Goddesses would've helped if you could, but I kept thinking that at 11:30 on a Saturday night either ya'll be out or asleep with your children. It would've been hard to find someone able to come over. So no guilt trips please!

I'll be back out in good old Lawrence soon. I come out almost everyday. I literally have no energy, but that won't stop me from getting in my yard for short amounts or starting a project sitting down. It was good to see the Goddeses and their friends that I saw this weekend. It really cheered me up. Thanks.

I was nervous and embarrassed about my shaved head. I still don't like males staring at me. That happened this morning at a gas station where there were swarming landscapers and contactors. PA was kind and told me I was still beautiful when he noticed my reaction to the situation.

Later in the morning I took a shower. I now have less hair than my last boyfriend. I'm going to have PA bic it when PA gets home. It's funny cuz now even though I cried about the cancer, I have more confidence about the hair (scalp) thing. It's true. Baldness can be liberating and strangely beautiful. I kind of like it.

It's obvious that I have the esteem of a lowly worm, and I used my hair as a security blanket to shield me from (supposed) looks and judging of folk that don't mean a damn thing in my life. Silly goose that I am. In my younger years I found shocking behavior hilarious, but as an adult I didn't want to be looked at by anyone. Now I'm going to test myself even more. I will have to find my worth and beauty without some of the things that women make worthy (beautiful).

I don't like saying that but deep down or even at the surface we all have to acknowledge the societal temperaments towards "accepted" beauty. I'm not talking about personal preference, but generalized attitudes even the most stout hearted people can unwittingly take to heart and mind.

I think everyone of you is gorgeous. I don't flatter and can't stand insincerity. I don't like sameness. I get bored easily. Thank Goddess ya'll are different. Goddesses and Queens. You know there's a few fellas I have to acknowledge as well. Mazel Tav to you all!

This time around it's not so bad. My DOCTOR said if this round doesn't go right then he's going to scrap the whole thing. That's even scarier. That being said. I've only had to take nausea meds once today. It's been almost 12 hours. Phew! I think the doc and (s)mother are right. It's stress causing all of this extra sickness. So, I handed the birds to my neighbors, and a lovely lady took the smaller chihuahua in for a few months. I can't get rid of my walking sausage. I need her. Now all I have left are the fish, one dog, 2 kids, a garden, and an assooze (his days are days numbered). I can do this. I just need patience. Maybe some wine (not from Pinkie...from grapes).

The last time I wrote a comment I had to type "waxseu" so the comment would get logged. I think the fellas working this site are funny.

For the first time in a very long time I have no PinkZilla for a Friday or any night for that matter. I'm almost beside myself.

Happy Mother's Day, Momma Goddesses!

I'm hairy. At least I let myself go to see how hairy I could get. It's pretty hairy. I was actually afraid to shave anything for fear of slight nicks turning into ghastly infected sores. I'm slightly paranoid right now.

Has anyone ever waxed their pubes? You know how it hurts like an MFer? Well, with this you don't feel anything. That's a plus. Right? That the one good thing about chemo is that I won't have to shave, pluck, trim, or wax anything! It just falls out with a slight tug from a comb or a finger. I was mesmerized today in the shower. The process has already started. I was told to expect it on the 17th day, but I was also told that if I get sick at all it'd be the day after the treatment. So go figure. I'm getting this early too.

Wow. What will my cranium look like? Pumpkin? Pinhead? Charlie Brown? Sloth (Goonies)? I'm kind of excited that I'll be able to turn geeks on now. Geeks not nerds or dorks. There is a difference even if it's small. I'll just tell them that I have an affection for the VGER lady in that Startrek movie, and watch the trekkies quiver. Goddess, that's sad way to get a jolly but I need fun too.

I'm still on the look out for a henna arteest to design my scalp. So if you hear of any please let me know. I don't know how long the balding will take, but it won't be long now.

I completely forgot that I had the menstruation talk with my kids yesterday. Wow. That was an easy hurdle. Easier than telling my paranoid, knows-too-much-cuz-I-let-him-watch-the-news Zilla that his momma has cancer. Whew! That was an emotional stinker of a conversation!

Now if they could put the "Purpose of Boy Parts/Girls Parts" and "Women Make More Blood & Menstrate So We Can Procreate" conversations together then I don't have to fully explain the baby making process! Ha ha. No "Babies in Bellies" images for me! Yes, I have my limits. It stopped at two.

I have never thought that getting an animal stoned or drunk was funny. It's slightly sick. I do know of animals that steal beer or wine, but to purposefully get them silly is just kinda wrong. If it happens on accident though...It can end up with some pretty funny results.

So we all know I'm chemo. (Blah blah get on with it) I didn't realize how sick I would get on this shit. I don't like taking meds for any reason. So this is a true lesson of how to put away my stubborn side and allow for some comfort. I'm all about comfort now. And it's only been 1 week. So meds natural or not are being consumed. I thought that maybe I'd have to be wary of Personal Assistant what with his love of meds natural or not. I found that he was not my biggest problem.

I have an adorable chihuahua/toy pincer mix. She's brown/tan colored and shaped like a large sausage or football complete with itty-bitty legs for running and a tiny tiny muzzle for LOUD yipping and pointless nipping. She is my constant companion (borderline stalker), guard dog, and vacuum cleaner. I apologize to each of my friends who have felt her wrath.

"Chika" is a binge eater. If she can't find food she will eat paper, toiletpaper, paper towels, etc. She has been known to scarf down the eyes, noses, and insides of my children's much beloved but very vulnerable stuff animals. This time she headed for another item. One that holds more importance than any sentimental toy could offer at this moment in the 4 house.

I was on my way out to work when I decided I should probably put the meds out of reach of any curious child. Like that was important because they stay away from my stuff anyways. I just had a feeling. I went to my nightstand and looked...all over...my room...hmm. Damn fucking mutt. I walked into Pinkie's room and looked under her bed, Chika's favorite munchie hideout. I found a tiny corner of wrapper from one of my natural meds. That sausage with legs ate one! wrapper and all! OOOOO! I'm gonna shish kabob that dog one day!

I hobble downstairs (no energy, lots of nausea, on chemo) and start to walk out the door when I notice she's sitting in a sunny spot in the dining room looking very out of sorts. "Serves you right, damn dog." I hobble off to work. Dumb. I should have stayed not just because my co-worker said I looked like shit, not because I felt like shit, but because my dog through my negligence was WAY too fucked up to be left alone! Priorities? Where are they?

I got home and was greeted by the ever energetic Chile with jumps and yips and licks, while from Chika I received a rather shaky head nod. Stoned bulgy-eyed dogs that can barely keep their eyes open are hilarious. I let them out like a good owner, but like a bad owner without their leashes. Chika quickly sprawled out literally in the middle of the road. She looked like road kill. She only batted an eye when I picked her up and plopped her down by the front door. From there the Regal Sentinal of the neighborhood could only jiggle her head a bit, stand up on two front legs, and then immediately drop back down to her place on the ground. She was like his for the whole day. I would intermittantly curse her admidst my giggling at her.

I had been wondering how to cure her of her indulgent eating habits, and I think that this might be the way. I just hope that she did actually learn HER lesson and stops trying to eat every little thing she can get a hold of. That's the intellectual side of me. The other side of me is still cursing her especially when I'm sitting next to the toilet losing my cookies or having a hard time stomaching a bowl of Rice Krispees.

Ok. I have a lucky fish, and I've been told that I'm "lucky". My chances getting of this shit is 0.03%. My chances of getting sick to point that I did yesterday is 0.02%. Fuck! Why, with my great odds, can't I just win the lottery or something?

Side note: the shot I got today and will receive 7 more times costs $8000 a pop, stick, and slight pain.

Another note: How can illegal immigrants be bleeding ME dry when it takes $30 bucks till fill my gastank while Exxon and Chevron have BOTH experienced record level profits? Fucking fuckers.

At least I can get my fastfood and my plants cheap! Vive Mexicanos! Where's Che when you want him? Hmm...That's right he's under a landing strip.

Chemo will not be fun. I got my injection(s). I have hard time focusing on letters, and I think this is making me sick. Quick very quick. I got what I'll call evil Koolaid and a clear drug. I feel stoned but without the munchies or paranoia. I have 17 days till my hair falls out. It's (side effects) supposed to really kick in tomorrow. yuck. I gotta do it. Take care ladies and remember to get mamgrams and feel yourself up a lot or have someone else do it.

Ok. Chemo starts tomorrow. I'm ok aside from an embarrassing bit of crying on the front porch at FS Monday. To get ready for this I got the Pinkie vaccinated for Kindergarten, got the chihuahuas vaccinated before they become rabid, and I've cleaned cleaned cleaned every fucking inch of my pigsty except for my room. It's still an absolute fright. Eh. Administrative paper cowpoop that keeps piling up just showcasing my half assed attempts at managing my life!

You know I think I've done more preparation for this than for my pregnancies. Ok, maybe not. I didn't scrub light switches or mouldings. Damn. I definitely got fewer presents. Maybe...people could have chronic illness showers! Complete with pretty packages and potato salad. Maybe those silly mints that you see at weddings and showers. They could be colored according to the representative color of the individual sicknesses.

Tomorrow I think I'll force my mom to sit through a kung fu movie while I get my injection. I'll let ya'll know how delightful it is. I'm talking chemo not my mother.

Layers of dirt, dead matter, minerals, heat and pressure form rock over eons. In my life, pressure has formed rock in my 32 years of existence. I have yet another form of pressure to add to the list of things that push me into unwanted circumstances but that strengthen my determination to better my situation.

My son is my (s)mother. How can an 8 year old think that he can decide what you eat and how much you drink? Ok. He does have concerns that younguns just should never know about. I didn't know about cancer. I knew about other horrible stuff, but noone I knew had anything that could spread like an invasive weed throughout the body.

By the way, cancer and weeds will probably be the subject of another blog since we're going into the growing season.

Back to layers....my bits of consciousness that poke and pester me to be healthier. Could I have a healthier lifestyle? Well..yes, I could stop drinking (I will try during chemo) and eat more organic things (I'll have to work on the miser in me) and cook from scratch (I don't...no). I do love physical activity, and Goddess willing I'll be able to ride my bike on chemo!

My son is picking over my food. "Mom, you're not supposed to eat cheese." It's cheese for fuck's sake! "Mom, did you drink all that alcohol in one night?" He's looking at my recycling that has sat on the side of my house for almost an entire year. Aye. A little pressure can go a long way!

Hee hee. My mom's a good 'un. Her: "Do you know what the ink in your tattoo is?" We were discussing my snake (family) tattoo. Me: "uh, no mom. But do you know what the pesticides, that you and dad sprayed in the house (and on my bed), could do to a growing child?" She actually conceded to that. Sometimes she does surprise me.

She's conservative only on the basis of abortion, death penalty, and guns. She does, however, have a strong belief in education, social welfare for the needy, family (and how our market system does not give a hoot about it), and a burgeoning sense of environmentalism and healthy lifestyles being interconnected. She also doesn't judge single moms (as long as they're on the look out for a man) and will defend a "lady of ill repute" when it comes to violence towards women. I swear, I'll be able to turn her away from the dark side someday.

But this is not about her or her beliefs. This is about me. It IS my blog.

The next direction of pressure is the father (not babydaddy, Personal Assistant, Assooze, etc.). My father is still pushing those nutrients like a crack dealer in DC. Damn. Maybe I should say...like a fundamentalist christian talking to their "dying" heathen daughter. As if. "Not dying here or anywhere else for an extremely long time. So please back it off," said heathen daughter.

Now to the last. This is Babydaddy, Personal Assistant, Assooze, etc. Wow. You'd think a guy would go out to get laid if he keeps being told "no". That's all I'll say about that.

So back to being a rock. I don't like diamonds (Not my son's friend, Diamond...the rock diamond). I think they're tacky and not in a good way. I love stones where you can see the veins of other minerals streaming through them. Goddess, I love jade! I love garnetts and amythysts. I love the deep earth tones that you can see while driving through the southwest and west. I love seeing fossils in them! I love the look rocks bring when they're placed stategically in gardens either English or Asian. They are beautiful, and they are reminders that existence goes on and on even though you don't.

So, when I'm accused of being a lizard with no emotions, I'll just remind myself and the accuser that with all the pressure from circumstances and people over my lifetime, I've become quite a beautiful stone. Maybe not precious to them, but definitely to those who count.

Dj Shadow has song called "Midnight in a Perfect World". I heard it the other morning, and it got me to thinking. What does he mean by "perfect"? The song is beautiful and only slightly melancholic. Great for driving on a quiet city highway if that could be possible.

I kept thinking. Silly, It's already perfect. We have extremely beautiful and precious and extremely painful and horrible events that happen each every second this place (earth) exists. Hey. I got cancer. Someone else raised their offspring into adulthood without a hitch. Genocide is occuring in the Dar Fur. The plants are waking and blooming. Slavery exists. My dear friend Marty is helping rescue women and girls out of it right here in the USA. See? Beauty and divine along with demonic and sick.

I know this heavy and cheesy. It's just the stuff I'm thinking about. So then what am I getting at? Well let's see. I don't consider this hell. I don't consider this heaven. I know folk who believe these ideas. I don't believe in them now or after this existence. One without the other seems sorta....unharmonious. If in order to have life there must be other life to feed off of. That life then dies. So how can this system be considered "imperfect" when everything (lifecycles and what not) is set up so perfectly?

How can I think "perfect" with my left tit gone? My existence and those of others that I hold very very dear don't really matter much in the grand scheme of things. We're insignificant. You guys ARE significant to me but not to nature. Things get shit on without it being personal. I understand this and hold no grudges. I just want this rollercoaster of a life to calm down and roll without the crazy peaks and valleys.

The surgery site is for the most part healed up. I'm now able to shower. I don't trust showering yet, so I'm still spongeing it up. But now it's IN a hot bath. Goddess, I love baths! Hot baths and saki are the two greatest inventions of mankind! I"ll skip the "relaxation" music though. I find my chirping parakeets and the curious eyes of my chihuahuas more relaxing (humorous) than wood chimes or Micheal Bolten or whale music. Wow that last sentence was so 90's.

My spirits for the most part are up. I do have down, but this weather is too beautiful! And I have too many plants to put into the ground, and I want to shop. Now on to find a tank top that holds my still existing ta in while I heal up.

Oh, Yes. From now on ya'll can call me Amazon Amy. I think I should take up archery! ; )

I have this odd looking "chocolate pom pom" fish. Really she's just an ugly brown colored goldfish with such tiny pom poms that it seems silly to call her a pom pom goldfish. I don't even know if it's a female. I just call her "her" because..well just because. Her name is Renee (French for queen). She is the queen too. All of the other fish have avoided her like the plague except for the past few months.

For the past few months the silly fish has had this tumor aproximately twice the size of her brain growing out of one of her pom poms. That tumor has been source of sick entertainment for me. My mother pleaded with me to put her out of her misery. My friends shrieked, hurled, and burst out into laughter at the sight of it. One dear friend would not go into the same room unless she was tired and already tipsy. Yes, I think reactions like these are enormously funny.

There was only one reaction that upset me. I bet you can guess which it was. My mother's response to the tumor annoyed me not because she felt that it would be a more humane way to deal with such an unsightly deformity but because it was to ease her comfort and not the fish's. Hmmm.

I immediatey responded that yes things with tumors should be put out of their misery. She agreed, " Your grandfaher would never let an animal suffer like that". Hunh.

Humane- kind, tender, merciful.

She didn't get my subtlety. She didn't realize my sensitivity with all things aflicted with tumors these days. Nor could she ever admit to any grievous behavior. So my tart retort went unanswered. With her you don't compare my human growth with a fish growth. It's unfathomable.

Now with my tumor cut out and healing up fine, I think. We will now discuss my beautiful, ugly fish. The morning after the going away party for my tata, I went down to feed the fish. I shrieked not out of disgust but amazement! Well. There was some disgust in it. I do have to admt that. About half of the tumor was hanging on by a thread to the other half of the tumor. I like yucky things, but this was seriously gross. Nothing to see here folks, so I went about my day as usual. In the evening I noticed it fell off. Eww. Don't look. Don't look. Don't look. I removed the thing, and reported to the family that we were going to eat it for dinner. Of course PinkZilla and Personal Assistant know my sense of humor and knew we were not going to be eating stir fry a la Growth of Renee. We all laughed, and I secretly worried about our mental health.

The next morning was Saturday or HomeDay as my Pinkie calls it. We had no where to go, so arising from bed is always a lttle slower than other days (except sunday..silly religious folk). "How is that fish doing?", I thought to myself. I got up walked down to the tank and squealed again. The rest of it was sunk down onto the floor of the tank and Renee was swimming around like she owned the world while the other fish tried to hide behind the sparse vegetation. If she had a soundtrack it would probably consist of Singing in the Rain songs.

"Good Morning. Good Morning. It's great to be awake. Good Morning. Good morning to you!"

I however still could not look at "it". I got rid of it. You might wonder how this "Miracle" was performed right in the middle of this atheist/agnostic/pagan's (can't decide) home. Well, I'll tell you sister. I found a cure. Yes, a cure right in my neighborhood pet store. Natural fixative straght from this great green planet, bottled up, and bought by yours truly for 6.99 US dollars.

Please when you read this think of "Oh Brother Where art Thou". You see the accents of bible thumping Southerns are prevalent in the events of my life at the moment. Now back to My Story not Renee's...well I'm not sure who's story:

I told my mother about the tumor falling off. She asks me how it happened. I told her about the medication made from an extraction of an aquatic plant that acts as an antifungal for fish life. She didn't listen. What she heard me say was something like this:

This Miraculous food extracted from God's good plants ( food suppliments that she has guilt tripped me into, that are marketed basically as a cure all and that as a dutiful daughter I have agreed to to go along with it) has done the miraculous that even these doctors(salesmen) have not foreseen and healed my fish of her cancer! Praise God for what it's doing for me!

Oye. Oiy. Aye, my aching tit. No. After I explained to her that I used a product designed for tanklife, I still had to sit through another "yes all of our answers lie in nature" sermon. Um. Ten years ago she was telling me that tofu and the health and wellness industry was a conspiracy of the New Age Movement! I'm still quaking in fear of people asking crystals and tarot cards for enlightenment. Love my folks to death . Can't do a damn thing for 'em though.

Now on to my fish and me. We're both healing. I am a bit jealous of her though. One of my poms was removed and I still have to sit through chemo. She just had yucky tasting water for a week, AND she gets to keep her pom. Lucky fish.

I have aprox 14 hours till my left boob gets chopped off. I go from being calm and confident to tears welling up in my eyes whether or not I'm talking about it. I really appreciate the support my little A Left has received from friends and family. I'll let you'll know how it all ends up.

Health and longevity before tit and vanity.

Two things that heard from my Pink Zilla this week:


"If you pour water on the ground zombies grow there."-Pinkie

"It's a tornado if the feathers of chickens get ripped out."-Minizilla

I'm glad to read that the French are resisting their businesses' attempts to erode their worker protection laws. As a member of a country that excels in fake work for little wage for long hours, I am glad that there are folk that won't put up with it. There were articles this past week talking about the riots that students (backed by unions and other groups) participated in that were incited by Chirac enacting a law that enables employers to hire and fire on an at will basis. In the past there had to a reason for an employee's dismissal. Now that protection was taken away for those under 26. Interesting some say. So what other's say. I find it disturbing. At first the young will be hurt, but if the common folk will put up with it and the companies see that, even the older generations will be in danger of their protections being taken away.

Think about it. Companies have figured out that the American public are tolerant of crap work for crap pay with no benefits. We as a nation are steeped in "Temp" culture. Trogolidites of the workforce, we are. We despise workers that find no reason to do their work properly since the worker knows that their hard work won't protect them from a "layoff". I'm guilty of that philosophy.

I have a strong work ethic, but my past luck had it that I didn't get well paying jobs. I've been lucky enough to find a permanent job with benefits with an ok starting wage. However, we'll see how lucky I am when I get to start my chemo and radiation. We'll see if the benefits cover the medical costs or even if I'll be able to keep that job. I don't know how my body will handle the drugs and radiation, so who knows? Maybe I might not be able to fulfill the requirements of my job even though this not under my control, but the company knows of the issues that I'm facing. So we'll see.

Now back to my being guilty of judging fellow disgruntled temp workers. I'm not begrudging of single parents. I know what a burden it is to be the main caretaker for a household. The person I'm thinking of was a single man with no kids who half assed his projects/assignments thus creating more work for the rest of us. Ok. He's not innocent either, but what I'm getting at is that the rest of us were being complaisant in the treatment we received from the company by working the overtime and following the rules of no food or drink at our work stations, no slouching, no searching through our cds for music( no down loading of mp3's or you'll lose computer privileges for good at the company), and no talking in between breaks. I hate the cubicle world. It was all grey with no windows to outside world.

Oh yes. The job was easy. We were in the lax department. I just couldn't stand the lack of paychecks and when we got them there were always hours or stipends missing from them. Why not get a better job? There are very few good paying jobs in this area. Why not move? It costs money to move. This is a very good place to raise a small family. Kansas does not for the most part hold to what I consider good family values or progressive, intelligent views of science and social issues. This is an oasis in a desert. Lawrence has a multitude of good and likeminded folk raising their offspring here. The Goddesses are a good example of that.

Now back to this gentleman. He hated the lack of concern that the government contracted company bestowed upon its workers. He acted out in his own subtly rebellious way. I applaud him for it and wish that more blue and white collar workers (myself included) stood up to our jobs leaving and wages and benefits being slashed like a Walmart sale on a Saturday afternoon.

Ok I'm done bitching. I'm just going to leave you with a poem that I found and gave to you a awhile back...

Little silver fish
Pointing upstream
Moving downstream
In clear quick water

Oye. It's only 10 in the evening and my hang over from today's Irish-for-the-day frivolities is in full swing. The drinking was a great way to forget the stressfull shit that's been going down. Am I going to have to go through radiation or not? If I do will I get a plasti-tit? Will Sam Donaldson's eyebrows go with my snakes that are already nestled lovingly on my chest?

I'm bitch cranky. Ask my children the PinkZilla and my personal assistant your friendly neighborhood ass ooze. One day I swear I'm going barbeque my chihuahuas. Hangovers and yipyip dogs don't mix. Do parakeets go well with Shiraz? Did I mention I was cranky?

Well...Thank you Goddesses and Mike for revelling in the beginning of my left tit's last week on my body. I thoroughly enjoyed it. I loved the hootin' and hollerin'. I can't wait for next week when all those children of goddesses will converge upon my abode and tear the roof off the sucka. It'll be a blast! Just remember GDs not accustomed to loud noisy paks of chillins, that a sip of liquor never did a body harm, but it sure does git the tension the F on out of the house. Godess bless and goodnight!

It's not so simple.

That's what the doctor said. It's a nice way of saying you have cancer. What the fuck?! This has got to be unreal! I can't drive away from this, I can't wake up from this, and goddamn it, there's no bad trip to come down from!

It's funny I understand the figure of speach "There are no atheists in a fox hole." I've caught myself praying, and I don't know exactly what this thing is that I'm praying too. I honestly don't believe in that desertgod that most of the world prays to, but I prayed to something...

Now I've been told to either cut the breast off completely or risk looking "udderly" ridiculous. After the last one I can see the difference in sizes between my breasts. I used to love my itty-bitty titties. Their shape just never changed much, but after a biopsy and a lumpectomy both taking out about 75% of mam tissue well....My little A left went even smaller than my little A right.

So, I'm gonna have one real tata and a lump of flesh, plastic, and liquid simulating a tata. I actually toyed around with th idea of leaving it. An asymetrical field glaring and daring the world to behold it's outrageous deformity brought on by a grotesque disease and retaliated by an even more grotesque "treatment". In that place I want a tatoo to symbolize the shape of the thing lost. I was thinking of tattooing Sam Donaldson in his early years in place of my beloved ta. Him or W. C. Fields. I think Fields' nose would be perfect for a nipple while I love Donaldson's eyebrows.

I'm just glad that the cut and paste section of this is almost finished. I want to thank you Goddess Friends for supporting me. I love that you guys try to help in what ways you can for Kalli and me. I think we're all lucky to know each other. Goddess bless and goodnight!

I haven't been blahhhging lately but as I have no internet access at the moment. I hope you will forgive me.

I feel like a rather large set of vicegrips is clamping down on my mind. A smaller set is working my torso. I'm nervous and a tad scared about tomorrow. I can't help it, but I do have one ting that does get me through...

"Always look on th bright side of life."

Goddess bless Monty Python!

and thanks for your support, ladies!