(Here are some things I will post about soon:
1. Our really fabulous Father's Day Weekend adventure!
2. 4th of July at Moss Lake
3. Lydia's summer of fun with Rachel
4. Poppy's 90th Birthday
5. Our mostly funny dogs
6. My beautiful children swimming
See! There is so much good in our lives! Yes, I know. But that's not what this self-indulgent post is about. Just hush.)
And now, on to the angry rant. (With some good news - don't lose the good news - I'm just not in the mood to focus on the good part tonight. So there.)
I had my lumpectomy. My margins are clear - meaning that the cancer was contained within the tissue removed. BUT, my margins are also less than 1 mm, which is quite literally cutting it very, very close. My oncologist would like me to consider additional tissue removal - more surgery. And I definitely need radiation for 8 1/2 weeks, and I hate the idea of toxic therapy, but I hate the idea of recurrance more. And the name of the game, now that the cancer is gone, is preventing recurrance. Blech.
I liked it better when I thought this would be very easy. Silly me. (But I'm totally going to be fine. So please don't worry. It's still very good that we caught it so early, and it was non-invasive, and they did get it all out.)
Brit is going in for hip surgery tomorrow. His prothesis has bothered him since his hip replacement, so he changed doctors. We found a doctor who showed us the x-rays of the hip and it was immediately clear that the alignment was less than ideal. So tomorrow Brit will have the prothesis realligned. We've very hopeful that this will mean much less pain in the long run, but the next several weeks will suck. It will be 6 weeks before he can return to work. Plus physical therapy. And of course, he won't be able to drive. So I hope we can find a physical therapist in the same medical complex as my radiologist. Seriously. Oh, and if I do need more surgery in the next few weeks, I may be calling you for a ride.
So tonight I am scared. I am scared for my sweet husband who HATES hip surgery, and I am sad for him that he knows he hates hip surgery. We are lucky, you and I, that we don't know how we feel about hip surgery. Brit is not lucky is that same way. He is lucky in other ways, but not in the having had no experience with having a hip or two or three replaced way.
And I am scared for the next several days while Brit is in the hospital. I would like to be with him, but I am just missed two weeks of work for my family vacation and my own darn surgery. And, I need to save up my time off and working from home for myself, for a change. And it's kind of a bad change, frankly. I mostly just like good change, you know? I think Brit's hip surgery will bring good change. But I think Brit will be lonely in the hospital. But he's a grown-up and he knows that I will be taking care of the kids and the dogs and the house, etc., etc. And you'll go visit him at St. David's, right?
Because if you're wondering how you can help, here is a list:
1. Please go visit Brit in the hospital.
2. Please offer to watch our kids while I visit Brit late at night in the hospital.
3. Please encourage other friends of ours to visit Brit.
Because, I love Brit and I feel guilty that I can't stay with him in the hospital like I did when we didn't have kids, and like Lydia and I did when Lydia was just a baby. (But also, it sucks that we have so many examples of this, right?) And I know I shouldn't feel guilty, but I do so shut up.
Here are other things that I think totally suck:
My dog Lucy is losing the use of her hips. She's very old. I can't get the song, "You Picked a Fine Time to Leave Me Lucille" out of my head. It sounds funny, I know, but I can't say that without crying. I don't think your dog should be allowed to become old and infirm when you're diagnosed with cancer. I think the universe needs to get its head out of its ass, frankly.
And I would like it to be cooler, too, while I'm complaining. It is way too hot for early July. So there.
I am not drunk. I have not had anything to drink all weekend, in fact. I mention this for two reasons. I think it may well be something I'm pissed off about. And also, I don't want you to think this is a drunken rage. I'm just venting. And even, a little bit, cracking wise. I'm sitting here cracking myself up and crying both. Yes, like a crazy person. That shouldn't be a surprise to anyone.
I will probably be as embarrassed as hell that I posted this. But, this is how I feel, and I did say I'd use the blog to keep you all posted.
If you are reading this, it is a given that you love us. And we love you. God bless us all.
And fuck this crazy summer.
Love,
Emily
What? Father's day was well over a month ago?
After our visit with the country mice from the Big City, we headed out to this place. If you haven't been, I highly recommend it. I also recommend waiting until October or later. It was HOT. But, in early summer, they do have some adorable young'uns. And what's cuter than a miniature miniature? Exactly! After visiting the tiny little horses in Brenhan, and asking the nuns there to pray for our immortal souls (actually, I'm pretty sure the ancient nun who was stunned out of her meditative prayer by Guthrie running up in the chapel and yelling "HI!" starting praying for his little soul without any additional prompting) we headed to Fayetteville. What's in Fayetteville? Durn near nuthin'. We stayed in a tiny little white cottage right on the main square and listened to the trains. It was quiet and peaceful and close to the best pie in Texas, and the reason for our trip. Yep, the whole weekend is Washington county was built around the need to have pie here. If you've never been, I highly recommend it as a day trip. Short drive, and a great meal. 
