Well. . .

Apologies for last night's post. The Boat of Self Pity sailed out last night onto the Ocean of Despair, fueled by the Beer of Angst, and well, so, you know: great Drama resulted, all over the place. Things are not really that bad.

My mom came through the colonoscopy with flying colors but (there is always a but, you know) there is a large growth in her upper colon and the biopsy results aren't in yet. However, since the tumor is up high, it will be a fairly simple operation to get it the hell out of there, and that's good news, as is the fact that she won't need a colostomy bag or any of that horrible stuff, which she was dreading. The other good news is that she had a CT scan already, about a month ago, and it didn't show anything untoward, which I think (and I could be wrong, of course) that that means this probably isn't like super attack cancer. But we're still waiting for the biopsy results and the operation is a necessity and we're consulting with the surgeon on Monday afternoon, with the surgery to be schedule shortly thereafter, which means that no, I will not be going to the beach. That's okay, except I've always wanted to take pictures of Funland, the adorable little old amusement park at Rehoboth Beach, and again I won't be able to. Ah well, them's the breaks.

Meanwhile, bee! On flower! Bee! Flower! Flower! Bee! Blode and the Giant Bee!