Early to bed... in my dreams... wait...!!!

It's 11:20pm, and I'm thinking, if I could get to sleep now it would be sweet. I'm getting up at 7am, and I'm just under slept. I've definitely been worrying about tomorrow's appointment. But on top of it all, I didn't get a call back from my doc's office for the referral. So, I know things always work out, but for a 9:45am appointment, I'd rather know that the referral is already there tonight.

Thinking we should go early, check it out, and have a coffee (or two!) to pass the time. If there's no coffee time, then at least we can get things done so everything goes according to schedule. Who's schedule is it? I feel like I have no control over these things these days. It doesn't feel like my schedule at all. It's like my Robo-Boob is driving this cancer bus, and I've been taken hostage.

So, I'm going to crawl into bed. I'm still hormonal, but we ordered Middle Eastern food tonight and it was an excellent life choice. I really needed some lamb kabob, falafel, tabouli, and yes - baklava and bird's nest. Apparently, I'm the only one in the family that loves that stuff. Oh... poor me. I didn't have to share.  ;)

Fingers crossed for tomorrow. I wonder if they'll draw blood. I wonder if they'll look at me with sad faces and shaking heads. I wonder if they'll address me like an intelligent human. I suppose since this doc is affiliated with my current docs, there will be a respectful conversation. And, as always, I will sit like a deer in the headlights while hubby carries on said conversation. Because I'm scared shitless, and nothing will change that right now. Yeah, they cut my boob off. Yeah, it's all healing, and soon - hopefully - I will have the exchange surgery. But, I'm scared. There was cancer in my lymph. Not a lot, but more than none. The crap was close to my skin. Why'd ya have to swim so far away, you stupid cells???

So, off I go to bed. And I'll act like I'm tired. I'll yawn. I may not stretch since that feels freaky. I'll pretend to fight my lead eyelids - and of course be grateful that I'm not like the botched up eye-lift patient who can no longer blink.

Meditate. Yes. This is a good night to meditate in. Hells, this is a good LIFE to meditate in.

Here goes... but, what will I wear tomorrow? I'm meeting a new doc!!!  I'm sort of kidding, but not. I want all of my docs to look at me as a strong, hopeful woman. Which means, keep my shit together. This occasion may call for a swipe of mascara and some lip color. I want to look vibrant and happy and not needing any sort of radiation or chemo intervention. "Look at her! She doesn't need poison, she needs to go to a fabulous brunch with her adorable husband! Fuck cancer!"

Yes. Fuck Cancer. Indeed.  Om.