I had my "minor medical procedure" yesterday to even up my, uh, stuff that needed evened up. Soon I will get the finishing touches, done with tattoo ink (I am not kidding) that will improve things cosmetically. I am going to have to be talked out of a monkey tattoo. I really, really want one.
Anyhow, the surgery was brief and there were no problems. Chuck was with me; we came home and he made me a DELICIOUS BLT with yellow tomatoes. MMM. I watched Dancing with the Stars, took a pain pill, and went to bed. Up at 7 am; made a 9 am meeting at Greenspoint, and am now back in my office.
Our department moves to the new headquarters at Greenspoint this weekend. This will be much easier commute for me, and I have a really nice office to decorate with my numerous monkey items.
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6 comments:
You're getting the monkey tattoo if I have to drug you and do it myself. Trust me, you'd rather have a "professional" do it. Also, who else is going to be my reason for getting one too. "Mom, I couldn't let her go through it all alone, could I?"
Stacy
Bring your game to town, kid. Let's roll.
There are two things I hate. Tattoos and cats. When I told Stacy I wouldn't come back to her house if she got a tattoo she said, "Good. I'll also get a cat."
Here's the definition of diabolical, Stacy: Get a tattoo OF a cat.
Blog surfing for other breast cancer blogs and found yours. I just recently heard of a woman who, after breast reconstruction instead of the nipple reconstruction had 2 daisies tattooed on instead. So good luck with your monkeys...
Actually, the tattoo is my least favorite part of the reconstruction. I think if given the opportunity, I would skip it. Of course, I don't think I will get that opportunity, and I would like to keep the girl that "feels good!"
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