I was very weepy yesterday. That's usually how it goes. The day I get bad news I guess I go to auto pilot. I gear myself up to make phone calls to my family. The next day is the day it hits and I cry at the drop of a hat. I'm not saying that's bad. It's just the way it is. Jim, of course, was wonderful about it. We are talking, making preparations for what's to come. I am scared, he is scared, we are scared.
It's like stepping off a cliff, you just don't know how long the fall is going to be or how hard the landing is. We both agree though that we've been tired of living on the edge. Both saying "either piss or get off the pot"
I'm going shopping today. Tomorrow I will see the surgeon and we don't know when he'll be able to schedule me for the port. With a chance that it still could be this week (either tomorrow, which I doubt, or Friday); this is the day I know I can go. Not that I have this huge list of things to buy, and I know that this isn't the last day EVER until I finish chemo that I'll go shopping, I just want this day. I want to buy a couple of gifts. I want to buy a few things for me. Jimmy is coming this weekend and bringing the grandpuppy Dixie with him and I saw the cutest little food dish for her. I want a nice little lunch somewhere. And then tomorrow, tomorrow, I'll know when it's all to begin.