If she had the proper words to say,

*sigh*

Do you ever just feel like you should tell something, but your heart just isn't there for the telling, or it's the kind of thing that gets you too emotional to begin telling? Yeah, that's me right now.

It isn't fair of me to ask for good thoughts and prayers for tomorrow without giving all the details, yet that's what I'm doing, I suppose. *shrugs*

I went to the urology specialist on Thursday for my bladder issues. If you've been a long-time reader, you might remember that I had bladder surgery almost seven years ago. At that time, my doctor told me I had the worst bladder he'd seen - that of roughly an 80-year-old. He told me that the sling would hold for 8-10 years, but I'd be facing having the same surgery that often for the rest of my life. Well, the sling began failing around 3-4 years, and I've kept it to myself for a good, long while, too. Over the past year, it's become worse than it ever was before I even had surgery the first time, and I had to face the music. I asked for a referral to urology and waited my six weeks to see the specialist.

And, there's more. My bladder is very jacked up, to be sure. There are incision issues (the internal incision is opening and the sling is falling out through the vaginal wall). It boggles my mind that is evening possible almost seven years later. In addition, something about my bladder looks "funny" and needs to be tested (quoting, of course). The worst of it, though, was hearing the doctor, then the tech, then the second doctor he called into the room all make very worrisome sounds and pokes and prods, to have him sit me up and tell me...

There are two tumors, one pressing on either side of my bladder.

*gulps*

I have an immediate appointment tomorrow with both my urologist AND a specialist OG/GYN, and they intend to find out more about these tumors. In addition, I have a bladder biopsy on the 18th, and I imagine the actual bladder surgery will be not too far behind it (though I intend to push it until after Thanksgiving, for sure). Listening to my urologist, as well as depending on the outcomes from the OB/GYN appointment, I think the intent is to push for a hysterectomy, and if so, that will likely be in the same surgery.

You might remember also that I've had nothing but abnormal Pap smears for years now, culminating in a colposcopy which revealed three masses (with results of two benign). I also had a large cyst removed from my girly parts when I was just 14, and my older sister has fought cervical cancer. Doctors told me when I was younger I had too much scar tissue to even bear children, so I count both my boys as wonderful miracles. However, immediately upon having my healthy children, I began pressing for a hysterectomy, feeling as though I had a ticking time bomb inside me. I've always been denied, for a myriad of reasons: 1) it's major surgery, 2) I'm not 35, and 3) I don't have three children. When I had bladder surgery the first time, I pressed again, as the recovery for both surgeries is the same. No dice.

This time, my doctor is already discussing hysterectomy, and I'm still not 35, nor do I have three children. I just pray that, if there are indeed tumors of any sort, that everything is handled in time. As always, bigbrain61 assures me that I will be fine, and he's never been wrong before...

I cut the everlovin' heck out of my second toe today.

For most of my life, I've not had shaving accidents. True, I shave less often than most women, having been blessed with pale, fair, softer hair that grows in very slowly. And because I shave so infrequently, I really take my time with things, soaking in a nice, long bath.

But today, I slipped while lowering my foot, and the razor was only seconds-fresh. Chop! It nicked a big chunk out of my second toe, and it also took out a speck of my third toe on the way down. Yee-owwww!

And the last time I shaved, I also slipped while shaving my thigh above my knee. I wasn't a cut, but I inadvertently pressed too hard on the razor which resulted in a sort of scrape on my leg. Nice.

So now my toes are bandaged sloppily (the band-aids wouldn't stick well because my toes weren't fully dry, and my toes weren't fully dry because they wouldn't stop bleeding), and I'm wearing socks just to keep them in place. And I wasn't even shaving my toes to begin with!

My boobs are so done with my bra today. Just SO.DONE.

I just dropped over $200 at Victoria's Secret on jammies. Yes, I did.

We've been having frequent "Game Nights" at our house (twice a week or so) for the past month, and I never have anything appropriate to wear. It's late, and we usually play games from 10pm-4am, and I hate wearing my jeans/pants that long into the night. Philip always puts his jammies on, but all the ones I had weren't appropriate to wear among a bunch of other guys.

So I've been talking about looking for some, and I tried to browse the other day with the boys, but I didn't see anything I liked. This morning, I decided that I'd try VS by myself this afternoon.

And I scored. :-)

( What I bought. )

"Son of a biscuit-eater!" That's what Maggie, my coworker, would've said. Yee-ouch!

I just got out of the shower. I put a liner into my panties (the monthlies, you know), and then I walked down the hall to begin a load of laundry. I dropped a shirt or two on the way to the washer, so I backtracked and bent down to pick them up. Once I had also tossed them in, I hit the light switch and left the laundry room. I then noticed the uncomfortable distinction of a "wedgie."

So I reached back and adjusted my undies - only to feel the sticky RIP! of my liner across the delicate skin of my derrière! Gah. The liner had flipped just a bit at the back end (ha, get it?), and the adhesive had firmly adhered itself to my soft, nether skin, rather than the panty assignment it had been given.

Yowza!

Girls, I know you know what I'm talking about. It's been a few minutes, and it STILL stings! Guys, I suppose zipper tragedies are about as close as you can get...

---

In other news, Happy Groundhog Day!

I have a hot pink credit card now. It's a Victoria's Secret® Angel™ credit card.

I swear, I didn't realize I was getting a credit card. I honestly thought, as I made a purchase there last week (my first ever in that store!), that I was just signing up for a rewards program: ie. the Hallmark® Gold Crown™ rewards, or Blockbuster® rewards - something like that.

I wondered what was taking the purchase so long to hit my bank account, and then I received two mailings from VS today: 1) my actual credit card, and 2) my first bill.

So I just set up my account online, and I paid the bill in full (after all, I thought the money was coming out of my bank account anyway). I feel kinda foolish about opening a credit card without realizing it, though. I debated closing it, but Philip decided I should keep it.

So I have a hot pink credit card now.

What's in your wallet?

I'm having crazy crampazoids today, and I've got a heated rice sock calling my name. I'm just waiting for the microwave to ding! and tell me it's ready...

My bra is really bothering me past the hours of about 6pm each night. It just feels like too much pressure, and it's making me hot. It's been this way for well over a week. Of course, if I don't wear a bra until bedtime, the girls bother me even more.

What gives?

Oh, to be a guy.

Reason #37 I Hate Being a Girl:

I hate shaving under my arms.

I really hate it. However, I live for sleeveless shirts from about April through September, plus I wear sleeveless pajamas year-round, so I have to shave frequently. Every other shower or so, though sometimes more.

But no matter when I shave - morning, afternoon or evening - I'm always itchy and wanting to rub/scratch my armpits to stop the itching of regrowing hair by 9 or 10pm that night. And the itchiness usually lasts a full day. I can't shave every day, either. I've found that if I don't wait at least a couple of days, the hair isn't really long enough TO shave, and I end up nicking the crap out of my armpit and getting a bad shave anyway.

So help a gal out. If you shave under your arms, tell me some tried-and-true methods for soothing the skin under your arms. I'd really love you for it.

Today has been a crappy day to be a girl. I'm ready to trade sexes RIGHT NOW.

I went to scrapbooking this morning after dropping Jack off for preschool, and I'm glad that I did - we had a new girl come! She had two little boys as well, and I hope she'll become a new regular. How sad is it that we talked for two hours, but somehow, neither one of us ever told the other one our name?!

I came home for a tiny bit before going back to pick up Jack. Afterwards, I dropped off a few more sets of felt letters for the baptismal banners, and then we came home to wake up Daddy for lunch. The preschool is doing a fundraiser with LUM'S, so we went there for a nice lunch. We picked up Philip's paycheck from Runza, deposited it in the bank, and then came home.

I tried - unsuccessfully, I might add - to wrap myself into a little ball around a hot rice sock to ease the pain in my lower back. I couldn't get the heat in just the right spots, it seemed. As it was, I fell asleep with it propped up on my back in the computer chair (yes, with its lumbar cushion, it was the best place to be!), and Philip woke me up and had me go lay down for a nap.

I made barbecued chicken and crescent rolls for dinner tonight, and then we finished up leftover veggies of broccoli, green beans, carrots and mashed potatoes. We had fresh strawberries for dessert, so our plates were plenty colorful tonight.

The boys have been splashing away in the tub for over 45 minutes now, and I've got their beds turned down and fresh jammies laid out. The dishwasher is running, and I'm thinking about watching a Netflix movie while I cuddle up with the heating pad (rice sock) again.