On Tuesday, I go in for surgery to remove a basal cell carcinoma from under my right eye. I haven't really freaked out about having skin cancer, as is my usual m.o. Typically, upon hearing bad news I burst into tears. I didn't this time. I've been rather blase about the situation, for two basic reasons. 1) It could be so much worse. The spot is small; only a tiny bit a skin will have to be removed. I'm not losing a large section of colon, or a breast, or a testicle (if I had any). 2) I've got bigger fish to fry. Lately, I've had to deal with other issues: Flynn cutting three teeth (and, therefore, not sleeping); Drake's behavioral issues (which may be caused by a medical problem- we are seeing lots of specialists right now); an old family friend had a massive stroke; Tim's contracting job was reduced from 10 weeks to 5; whiny students who can't seem to read simple instructions; and so on. I'm not saying I'm totally fine with this either. All I'm saying is that when this is all over, someone needs to buy me something pretty.
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