Marty refused to nap for more than 45 minutes at a time and demanded to be held for the rest of the day. So there was that.
And then I got a call in the afternoon with my skin biopsy results. I have a basal cell carcinoma. On my nose. And the spot has to be removed.
I freaked out a little. Not so much about the cancer, because there is no real life-threatening danger with this type of cancer. It means double the sunscreen for the rest of my life, but that is manageable. What freaked me out a little is that now I have a consultation with the doctor, scheduled for next week, to discuss my options for removal. My hunch, from the way the nurse talked about it, is that he'll recommend I choose either the easy way which will leave a disfiguring scar, or I'll be forced to choose the hard way, which will require some sort of recovery but less of a scar. I don't KNOW this...I just get the feeling that those will be my options.
I'm not a vain person, but for heaven's sake. I don't want a disfiguring scar on my nose! So, freaking out a little. Consultation is next Thursday, so we'll see what happens.
Olivia brought home some disfiguring news too. But hers is temporary.
|Is she really old enough for this?|
In trying to find a vigil Mass, we stumbled upon probably the most "high" Mass around. Monk pastor, packed church (due in part to the fact that it was Wednesday night and Mass co-opted the CCD classes), incense, chanting, and longer than it needed to be. I would have truly enjoyed it if we were sans children. But we forgot the diaper bag (no food or diapers for baby) and Olivia was in true 6:30 p.m.-over-tired form. We survived. Probably largely in part to the intercession of the kids' patron saints, to whom I was fervently praying throughout Mass just to keep myself from losing it on Olivia. Those Peruvian saints must be pretty powerful.
Happy Feast of All Saints. Let the November chaos begin.