Get those tests, people.
At times I’ve heaved a heavy sigh at my doc’s insisting on another mammogram—like, what could go wrong? Well, that did. After years of clean tests, I got the prize. Small, thanks to my doc’s insistence on me keeping schedule….and probably only a lumpectomy. Genetically unrelated to the colon cancer I beat. So THAT is very good to know. Only the size of a pencil eraser and undetectable by other than the scan.

So I know what *I’m* doing for the holidays. I’m only lacking an MRI (next week) before they set a date for surgery, and there’ll be a (slight ouch) recovery period.
And another PET scan and yet one more MRI for my OTHER doc—I tell you, I get away with nothing. She’ll have that test and me back in her office possibly the week I get surgery for the lump…which I hope will be minor. Modern science—wonderful only if we use it! And I am using it!

Anyway, we are doing ok. My cardiac doc asked me if I had any trouble climbing stairs, because having anaethetic is like climbing two flights of stairs when it comes to stress…nope. I informed him that I CAN actually run—and I can, but its dangerous to do because of the neuropathy (and a tendency to mistake where my feet are)—but I can, all the same. Pretty good for my age.

And it rather well threw me off my writing for a bit, but I’m getting back to it. And Jane, as ever, is my rock. She’s taking good care of me, or will, when we’re in that period when she has to. She’s worked hard getting the house in shape, really in shape, after all that’s happened to make that a hard job.

Snowtires are on the car. The mystery car glitch traced down to a short in the dome light. The weather is turning. The pond is put to bed. The surviving bonsai are all in for the winter, with grow lights. I now know not to trust them to Spokane weather, no matter how I’m told that it’s ok….

Finity is a young cat now, and we’re trying to teach them all the ‘talking buttons,’ —look up cat buttons on the internet, and you’ll see what I’m talking about.