lucky number seven

Sept. 7 — a week from tomorrow. That's my surgery date. It gives me enough time to complete two freelance articles I'm working on, which is good. I just hope I can keep from worrying myself sick over the next eight days. Maybe we can make it to the State Fair and the Picasso exhibit at the Walker before then, too.

I am overwhelmed and heart-warmed by all the generosity people are showing right now: offers of food, childcare, hugs, prayers and support. It means so much to me, and to Steve. We will try to take you up on whatever we can.

Now that I know this tumor is inside me, I notice it all the time. It's not irritating or painful or anything, just a presence that bumps against my rib or down in my pelvic area. I probably would have chalked some of it up to pregnancy, my growing uterus, but now I know what it really is. Last night, every time I turned over, I kept wondering, am I putting too much pressure on it? Am I squishing it? Is that bad? I am glad that this tumor is, from what they can tell, fairly freestanding. At least it has not encroached into any my organs, or my bloodstream. At least not yet. I'm having a CT scan this afternoon to make sure it's not in my lungs.

Daniel just woke up. Gotta go.