All this week and last weekend when I was feeling like some sort of ancient scribe carving my notes in stone. Or Al Bell screaming into the box with the cord. Or like a Native American sending up a smoke signal. I had this crazy feeling that something outside me was interfering with my getting at what I needed to do.
Little nit-picking details to major drama. I wanted just a minutes quiet to process ALL the new information that I gained at Blissdom into something usable. That still hadn’t happened at bedtime on Monday.
I was tired and already dreading a full week of doctors appointments for me and the Small Fry, when it happened.
I felt a lump.
No, not a lump. It felt like I had a super ball in there. It’s
It wasn’t necessary to alarm anyone. This is the wrong “phase of the moon” to check. I had a doctor’s appointment scheduled, anyway.
I want to be writing about the future and all it holds. About how much I learned and how I expect it to change my life.
The doc said it doesn’t feel like cancer. Great. Because I don’t feel like having cancer.
The American Cancer Society was a sponsor at Blissdom. Did I stop by their booth? I can assure you; I did not. A mistake I won’t make next year.
I don’t smoke or drink or stay up late. I don’t technically have a family history (apparently, Aunts don’t count to docs.) I do have stress. I don’t exercise.
God doesn’t owe me.
I wanted to
freaking do a Wordful Wednesday post today. With a lot of cute photos of me painting the town a conservative taupe. As it is, I am asking for prayer. I am too busy to visit that place.