This week has been one of those weeks when ALL THE PLACES have needed to be gotten to, and ALL THE THINGS have needed to be gotten done.
(Somewhere, a retired, elderly English professor just fell over backwards in her rocking chair after reading that first sentence. She fell over, with the tips of her good leather shoes, which she bought at Montgomery Wards in 1962 because THEY DON’T MAKE DEPENDABLE SHOES LIKE THEY USED TO, pointed straight to the ceiling. She probably clutched her heart a little and wheezed, “Red! Pen! Someone! Get me! A red pen!” Because clearly she needed to mark my introductory sentence all to pieces before she breathed her last.)
We have had a week full of everything, from ice skating lessons to laundry loads… from staff meetings to meatloaf-making… from doctor appointments to post office trips. I’m pretty sure that my life is exactly like Princess Kate’s, with the exception that I made my own meatloaf tonight and I sat in a podiatrist’s waiting room, reading the newest issue of People magazine, while the boy displayed his broken toenail to the doctor.
Princess Kate and I are both very glamorous.
I’m sure she lets her cat lick the tuna fish can, too, and then deals with the fallout of a cat barfing up her guts on the palace floor at 3:00 in the morning, as well.
So that’s been OUR week.
And, the grand finale of our week is that my beloved dad is going to have YET ANOTHER surgery on his bladder to take out STILL MORE cancerous spots.
This is how I feel about cancer:
(Please hide the eyes of those under the age of thirteen.)
CANCER, YOU SUCK.
My dad has already had three surgeries to take out spots of cancer in his bladder, and tomorrow will be Round Four. His surgery isn’t scheduled until mid-afternoon tomorrow, so clearly we will be dealing with a patient who hasn’t gotten to eat breakfast OR lunch.
In other words, he’ll probably be as friendly as a bear who has just been woken up prematurely from his hibernation and realizes that… SWEET MOTHER OF YOGI, SMOKEY AND PADDINGTON… BUT AM I EVER HUNGRY!
So, if y’all are inclined to do so tonight, we would treasure your prayers for my dad. We are begging Jesus for a quick and easy surgery… a quick and easy recovery… and that these little spots of cancer will JUST STOP IT ALREADY!
Also? Well, Thing 2 will be in the waiting room tomorrow, so perhaps some prayers that the hospital’s furnishings are still in one piece by the end of surgery are also in order. BUSY has no definition finer than a bored four-year-old boy, who has been waiting on something entirely too long.
Happy Wednesday, people.