The friend diagnosed with lung cancer: The night before Wayne left, I got a call that Nadene was in a coma, had been taken to a hospice, and they didn't think she would make it through the next few days. The next day, I believe, I got another call that she came out of her coma and they were moving her to a regular nursing home for rehab. The move got delayed a day or two, and when they finally moved her I called her, expecting to talk to a very sick lady. She answered the phone, sounded great, so we went to visit her. She was up, moving around, and seemed to be feeling better than she had in the past year. She decided not to go through with the chemo though, she knows she won't survive it. Yesterday, only a week and a half later, my sister and I went to visit her. She had been moved to a new room and I didn't think to ask why, but when we got there to see her I barely recognized her. This strong lady that I have known since I was 8 years old, who has always taken care of everyone else, and was a rock was in a wheelchair, tethered to oxygen, shaking, and I never once saw her get up and walk. We asked her if there is anything we can bring her to pass the time with. She wants a stuffed animal to hold. That was it. No books, or lotions...just a stuffed animal to sleep with and cruise around in her wheelchair with. I think I'm going to go out and by her a hundred of the damn things.
Wayne: He left for Nevada on a Tuesday and made it out there on Saturday. He had a job waiting for him when he got there, and he just moved into his new apartment that he selected with Shelby and I in mind, as part of his "You ARE moving out here if I have to drag you here by your hair" campaign. His job is going well. His dogs are driving him nuts. He smashed up his truck at his new apartment on a concrete pole in the parking lot that was dark red and impossible to see at nighttime. He calls me every morning on his way to work, and every night when he gets home. Every conversation he asks me what he has to do to get me out there. He bribes me with "You won't have to work." and things like that. Then he texts me and tells me why he wants me out there.
It was supposed to fade, I wasn't supposed to miss him this much at this point and I still do, just as much as the day he left.
The Smash-O-Gram: The results on the mammogram and ultrasound were all good, and they said they don't need to see me again until I am 40!!!!! I did however, find out that there is absolutely no way to look or act cool while you are getting one of those things. They made me wear this weird little shirt that no longer covered up the fact that the zipper on my pants was broken, making me look like an even bigger doofus. I'm sure the technician wanted to tell me my fly was down, but she never did. I should have explained that the zipper was broken and that's why I was wearing a shirt that covered it. I bet she lays awake at night thinking about my zipper and what an idiot I am. I'm pretty sure when she left me alone in the ultrasound room, it was to go tell everyone that my fly was down.
So those are the updates. Hopefully I can find something funny to write about soon!
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