Here, an exchange with my Sympathetic Friend. I blocked out her personal stuff because it's nobody's business and I knocked out some of my colorful language because it's distracting and there's a 'r' missing. Lower case. Go figya.
And that's when I fell asleep.
But just to be clear(er), the thyroid thing is happening on May 12th. I'll just be there overnight(lawd willin') and back practicing my tap dancing a few weeks later. We're waiting on one more result from that nine jillion tubes of blood test-a-thon that happened just one week ago. Things are looking good but I'll wait till they tell me something officially. We'll check back with the hematologist in a month-ish. We still(once again, here I am referring to the royal 'we') have to hook up with a rheumatologist because of the clot thing and that HSP thing that happened way back on Thanksgiving. Then there's the hernia negotiations after that. Woo Hoo.
P has this date in his head where he thinks I'll be all better and he keeps pushing it back further and further which both sucks and blows at the same time. It was May. Now it's June.
My new thing at the library is to look for books after my shift ends on Saturday. Lately I'm not finding what I want so I throw them all back and start over. We were talking about this blog and why I'm writing it and P mentioned sympathy and I was like, gedouddaheayuh. (That's Long Island for Get out of here. You're welcome.) That was never the point at all.
And I think...I think the book I'm looking for, is the one where the person has cancer-and all the stuff that goes with it-but that they don't necessarily croak in the end. And what is that thing that they say, write the book you don't see on the shelves?
Something like that.