Good news! No cancer!

My doctor’s office finally called back this morning. The Giraffe was upset that they didn’t call immediately last week, but I chose to believe what Angiela said—if it was bad news, they’d make a point to call right away. No call means better news.

The person who called me said “no cancer” and let me know that I’d need to follow up with a breast specialist. My doctor wants me to do this because of the history of cancer (including breast) in my family. So I expect to learn more about what the lump is and how to proceed from here at that appointment (not yet set). I’m very happy about this news and feel like it was all worth it to have peace of mind.

Despite the great news and the relief, I’m going to complain about something. It’s about how this boob thing is interfering with my Couch to 5K goal. I did the first workout of the first week on Saturday, February 28, and I haven’t been able to run since then. I was naive enough to think I’d be able to go for a jog THE DAY OF my biopsy, which was just stupid. Then I thought maybe later that week—if I could get the second workout in by Thursday, I wouldn’t be behind. When that didn’t happen, I thought I’d just do two workouts in a row on Saturday and Sunday. But Saturday my boob hurt so bad, I had to hold it with one hand the whole time I went for a walk with the Giraffe. Definitely no running.

On Friday I had called the place that did the biopsy to see how long I should expect to have pain, and I was told up to two weeks. Fun. But they said I could run if I could stand the pain and I won’t do any damange. Too bad I’m a wuss and so cannot stand the pain. I’m still showering with a bathing suit top on because the weight my own boob is too much. So running? With all the jiggling? No thanks. To be honest, it’s not a horrible pain, more like a discomfort that constantly reminds me of what went on there.

But. I think I’m going to try to get back on track this week. I adjusted my running schedule to still fit all the training in before the 5K I want to run in May, so it’ll be a little more intense, but I can do it barring any more setbacks. I wouldn’t call myself a severly dedicated person, especially when it comes to fitness. I don’t often set fitness goals because I know I won’t want to follow through on them. But damn it, I set this goal, and now I want to achieve it. To have such a big set back at the very beginning has been very discouraging for me. On the verge of tears discouraging.

The good news is that Emily, my sister who is training in the same way for the same run, has a big ugly blister on her heel and isn’t any further along than me. It’s mean to be happy about her blister, but I admit, it did make me feel a little better.

I haven’t heard from my doctor yet with results from the biopsy, and since it said 2-3 days, I called a little bit ago. But I had to leave a message, and I have no idea when they’ll call back. For the last few days, I’ve been more worried about how my boob hurt than by what they may have found. It didn’t even really occur to me that I should be wondering about the results until the Giraffe mentioned it last night.

I wasn’t worried at all until the phone started ringing, then suddenly I got super nervous. After I left the message, I couldn’t relax, so I walked around the building for a few minutes. I feel better now, my boob hurts again. So, anybody without a distinct interest in a post-biopsy progress report can stop reading here, I won’t be offended.

Now for those of you who may go through this yourself someday and wonder what the few days after a needle biopsy are like, here ya go. The first day was tiring and my breast was very sore. That evening I noticed a little bruising peaking out beneath the bandage, and my breast was really tender to the touch. I also couldn’t reach with my left arm well, and I couldn’t bend over because the skin of my boob stretched and shifted painfully. I took Tylenol all day to ease the discomfort. Sleeping was difficult—I couldn’t lay on my left side or my stomach at all, and when I was on my right side, the skin stretched again. So basically I had to sleep on my back or at a slight lean to the right. I discovered that my strapless bra is my most supportive bra, and I wore it for two days straight, including to bed.

The next morning I felt pretty good. I think lying still for so long was really helpful, but as the day went on and the more I moved around, the more pain I felt. The tenderness and a sort of sharper, deeper pain, too. I kept taking Tylenol and was really careful with my movements. The Giraffe had to help me with certain simple things, like tying my shoes, because I kept wanting to have one hand gently protecting my boob when I moved. I thought I’d feel better by Day 2, but I really didn’t. And sleeping that night was no better.

On Day 3, I was finally able to take Tylenol every 4-5 hours instead of every 2-3 (I’m a wimp!). The soreness wasn’t as severe, but it still worsened throughout the day. I took the bandage off (not the steri-strips), and there is definitely some bruising, but not as bad as I imagined. But it was extremely tender! I took a shower for the first time, and there was no way I could let my boob just hang there unsupported while my arms flew around washing and shaving things. I ended up wearing a bathing suit top in the shower, and I put a bra on right away when I got out. Sleeping was STILL a problem last night, though I did manage to lay on my left side for a very short time.

Today, Day 4, I’m surprised at how much it still hurts. It’s a very subtle pain now, but it feels so vulnerable, like any sudden movement could hurt like hell. When I walked around the building a bit ago, by the end I was supporting my left breast with my right hand. That small bit of jiggling from the walk was very uncomfortable. I’m already behind on my Couch to 5K program, and I honestly don’t know when I’ll feel comfortable with the boob jostling that happens during a jog. Even with my fancy new sports bra.

Another weird thing is that I know I have a piece of metal in there. The technician showed me an example so I’d know how small it was and even said, “Some people swear they can feel it in there, so I wanted you to see just how tiny it is. You won’t feel it.” But sometimes I feel sharp pains inside my breast, and I’m sure it’s just because hello, there was a needle deep in there a few days ago. But I can’t help but imagine that it’s that little metal clip poking at me!

(Ok, they still haven’t called back! I need to know!)

I’m so not a runner. I never have been, and if you asked me to run right now, I wouldn’t make it two blocks without being winded. In fact, I’ve always believed I just wasn’t made for running, my body wasn’t made for it. Some people are built for running, I am not. That’s it, done, no running for me.

But in the last couple months I’ve heard of three people (who also don’t consider themselves to be runners) who have started running. Those three people include Nanette, Patti, and one of my new coworkers, and all three are using the Couch to 5K training program.

Something about hearing it three times in a row made me think, “Hmm… maybe I could do that.” So I set a goal—my city hosts the annual Riverbank Run, which includes a 25K run, 5K run and 5K walk, and I want to run the 5K. Then I started preparing. I researched and bought a pair of affordable running shoes, I researched and bought a sports bra, and I asked Nanette for advice. She pointed me to these podcasts that are full of different music for each run and also count down each time you have to switch between walking and running. While I was planning to use the Giraffe’s iPod for this, he surprised me and one day this showed up:

(Wow, it looks so dusty!)

(He got free engraving and had this put on the back. So cute.)

On Saturday I successfully finished Workout 1 of Week 1. It was not ideal. We just got a big snowstorm at the end of last week, and everything was sloppy and melty on Saturday. My new shoes are already a mess. But I did it, I got through it! Thank god I only had to run for 60 seconds at a time because I wouldn’t have made it any longer. I have to be honest, I’m not completely confident I’m going to make it through the whole 9 weeks, but I’ll try.

My sister Emily said she’d like to try to do the training and run the 5K with me in May, which I think will help with my motivation. So here we go. Wish me luck.

Well, I had my first mammogram today. That’s not what I was expecting when I started my day, but that’s where I ended up. With my left boob smashed between two plastic plates. I’ll tell you how I got there, but I also want to ask some advice. So if you have time, read the whole thing and help me out.

In December I was laying in bed on my right side, reading a book. I had my left arm propped up on the side of my left boob to better hold the book, and I noticed a pain. Hmm, my boob kind of hurts, that’s odd. So I felt around a bit, and sure enough, a lump. I showed the Giraffe who thought I should get myself to to the doctor that very second, but I waited and had my sister check it out for me the next time I saw her. She said it was probably ok to wait until my doctor appointment in mid-January. Well, you know how that went, and I ended up not seeing a doctor until mid-February.

The doctor felt the lump during my breast exam, but seemed very unconcerned. She had me set up an appointment for a breast ultrasound, explaining that it felt more solid than cancerous lumps usually feel, and that the ultrasound should tell us what we need to know.

This afternoon, I went into the Cancer Center downtown (that’s intimidating!) and was ushered into a small room to change into a gown from the waist up. By the way, most unflattering gowns ever invented.

(Could I look any wider?)

In the exam room, they looked at my breasts, felt for the lump and marked it with a pen. Then they propped me up so my left breast was easily accessible, squirted it with warm gel, and put the ultrasound wand to work. The screen looked like nothing to me. I have no idea how they can tell anything from this mess:

(Yes I grabbed my camera and took that when the technician left the room for a moment.)

After the technician showed the doctor (who I never even met) the scans, she told me they were inconclusive.

“The doctor wants you to have a mammogram to get a better look.”
“Um, today?”
“Yep. I’ll get the room ready and we’ll do it right now.”

Three minutes later and I was face-to-face with a big shiny mammogram machine. Oddly, I wasn’t really nervous. I asked her how long I’d be smooshed, and she said no more than 20 seconds. That sounded tolerable. She positioned my left breast on the shelf of the machine, lowered the top plate, walked away to push a button, the machine made a noise for about five seconds, and it released my boob. When it was done, I literally asked if that was it because I didn’t believe it was that easy. She had to do another one with my breast in sideways, and that was a bit more uncomfortable, but still very tolerable. When she told me that the side scan wasn’t good enough and we’d have to do it again, I admit, I was a little annoyed. But truly, the mammogram was nothing like I expected based on horror stories I’d heard. Supposedly breast size makes a difference, but for anyone with a D-cup, I can assure you, it’s not bad! In fact, because the top plate is clear, I was more fascinated by the sight of my pancaked boob than I was worried about pain.

Anyway! The unseen doctor was shown the results of the mammogram, and when the technician returned, I was told that I’d need a biopsy. They think it’s a fibrous mass, and they want to do a biopsy to rule out anything worrisome. A biopsy yo! A mother fucking needle! IN MY BOOB! My mother, who has had myriad health problems in her 49 years, has never even had a breast biopsy. I’m 29 and next week I’m gonna have a needle in my boob. A needle that will take a piece of boob away with it! The ultrasound and the mammogram didn’t scare me. This scares me. Not to mention, for the last couple months I was pretty confident there was nothing to worry about. Just a gut feeling. Now even my gut is a little worried.

So here’s where I need advice. Part of me thinks that a lot of this is happening because I handed over an insurance card when I checked in. If I didn’t have insurance, would they have done an ultrasound AND a mammogram AND request a biopsy? Do they just assume my insurance will cover it, so run all the tests in the world. No problem! If insurance really did cover all this, I wouldn’t worry, but if you remember, I have a high-deductible plan, meaning I’m going to be paying for most, if not all, of this myself.

If I were to call and explain that and ask if this biopsy is absolutely necessary, would they tell me the truth? Should I do that? There is some history of breast cancer in my family, and that makes me not want to mess around here. But how do I determine if this is really necessary and worth the cost? Do I just trust what the doctor (who I never met!) says and get it done whatever the cost?

Switching jobs can be a pain in the ass for many reasons, but the one I hate the most right now is having to switch health insurance coverage. Here’s my saga:

- I started the job in early December.
- I filled out a billion kinds of paperwork to get on the company’s insurance plan and sign up for a Health Savings Account.
- The new plan is regional and doesn’t include places near my home (I commute over an hour now), so I asked around at work to find a new doctor.
- Made an appointment for mid-January with Doctor A.

- Doctor A called to reschedule a week in advance because someone broke a foot or something. New appointment was made for mid-February.
- I told them my birth control would run out before then, so I really needed to get in sooner. They had no earlier appointments.
- I asked if I could get an advance on birth control to get me through the month. Shot down.
- So I called my old doctor’s office (Doctor B) to see if they could help.
- Doctor B, plus the two PAs that I usually saw, had left the practice. I had been assigned a new doctor (Doctor C) at some point that I had never met.
- In the meantime, back in November, I had seen Doctor D about a stomach problem. I went to her because she was closer to work than Doctor B was at the time. And I really liked her. But she didn’t prescribe me the birth control, so I couldn’t call on her for a refill.
- Finally, after some finagling (begging), Doctor C, the one I never met, agreed to give me one more refill on my birth control.

- At the beginning of February, I learned that there’s some partnership that allows me to see certain doctors near home. One of them happened to be Doctor D, the one I saw once and liked.
- I made an appointment with Doctor D for early February.
- That same day, Doctor A, who had already rescheduled once, called to reschedule again! I said forget it, cancel the appointment because I’m going to Doctor D!
- Appointment with Doctor D last Thursday was fine. She wrote me a prescription for birth control and Ambien.

- Friday I tried to pick up my prescriptions. TRIED! Keyword.
- I picked out a cute stuffed giraffe (Maury) to give The Giraffe for Valentine’s Day and brought it to the pharmacy counter with me.
- Employee Z rang me up, but just after I swiped my Health Savings Account card, I realized I couldn’t pay for Maury with the HSA.
- Employee Z said to fear not, the card would reject anything not medical-related. Except not. It totally rang up the whole order.
- I didn’t want to deal with the paperwork it would take get Maury off my account, so I asked her to void the transaction. She did.
- She rang me up again with just the prescriptions. This time it only covered $50.
- I figured the the other transaction was still pending, so it showed as money spent. No biggie, void the transaction and I’ll come back in a couple days.

-Went back on Sunday and Employee Y rang me up. Rejected. I explained the whole thing to her, but she said there was nothing she could do. I left.
- I tried to check my HSA account online when I got home, but it demanded I give it a username.
- I was never assigned a username, and I couldn’t find anything in my paperwork that described how I might find or get one.
- I called customer service, which was of course closed.

- Monday I called customer service again. She told me my username as if it was supposed to be common knowledge. Like no big deal, we never gave this to you, but YOU SHOULD KNOW IT!
- I managed to log in, and oh look, $249 available. Excellent!

- I stopped at the pharmacy Tuesday (yesterday) and tried again. Employee X rang me up.
- Card declined. I begged him to help me figure out why. He said call the bank. I said call the manager.
- Manger comes and tells me the same thing. Call the bank.
- But I charmed her with sappy kindness and a loooong explanation of my journey so far, and she said she’d take a look.
- Eventually she was able to tell me that it was one of three things: 1) No approved items were purchased [not true since it was all prescriptions], 2) No pre-authorization was available [this wasn't necessary], or 3) No funds available on card [my online account said I had plenty available].

- I need to start a new pack of birth control Friday morning, and I’ll be out of town from Thursday morning until Friday night, so things are getting dire.
- I called the HSA customer service this morning. Explained the whole story.
- The HSA employee explained that I had a ZERO BALANCE! in my account because of two transacation from last Friday. The two transaction that were voided at the pharmacy.
- She explained that it takes about 7 days for voided transactions to go through, meaning I have no access to my money until Friday or Saturday, which is too late.
- I asked her why my online account shows $250, but she sees $0.
- Oh, they’re just having a little problem with their website right now.
- Great.
- I asked how I will know when the money is back in my account (since the website clearly has no idea) because I am NOT going back to that damn pharmacy just to get shot down again damn it.
- She had no good suggestions.

I’m starting a new kind of birth control, and I don’t want to start incorrectly, so I’m just going to have to suck it up and pay for the prescription out of pocket in order to get it on time. The problem is that my new insurance is a high-deductible plan, meaning I basically have to pay for everything myself up to a certain amount. The HSA is nice because the company contributes to that, so I’m spending their money, not mine.

So when I buy this birth control on my own dime tonight, it’ll be close to $200. Just to not get pregnant.

(This is Maury, the giraffe that caused all the problems.)

As @thatpatti so astutely said on Twitter earlier tonight:

missed a few doses of celexa this week and i’m really feeling it. sometimes i forget how much crazy it’s holding at bay.

My schedule has been all out of whack, so my morning routine of popping the peach pill, well it’s not exactly a routine anymore. I’ve been a negative nelly, everything everyone does bugs me, and tonight I started questioning everything and there I was, suddenly crying on the couch.

When I was with Brad, he used to have a hard time dealing with my negativity. I was always so negative, and little things seemed so heavy and burdensome. I was always complaining, and he, as the boyfriend, was tasked with having to lift me up. All the time. I used to get upset with him (surprise) and tell him he better just accept me as I am, I’m a complainer, deal with it, blah blah.

But now I realize I was crazy! Maybe not crazy, but there was something going on that Celexa has balanced out. I started taking it to deal with heartache after a breakup, but I’ve stayed on it because it’s never more clear how much it balances me out than when I stop taking it. Don’t get me wrong, I still enjoy a good complaining session, and I still get negative sometimes. But I don’t feel the weight of the world all the time, and I don’t drag my boyfriend down with me. Oh how much more enjoyable I might have been lo those many years if only I had discovered the problem sooner.

Then a night like tonight happens, and I feel just like I used to for so long. I was in between insurance coverages for awhile, and I missed a few weeks of Celexa, then once I got back on it, my routine was so thrown off that I missed several days recently. And now I can’t sleep because all I can do is feel this heaviness on my heart. A heaviness that I can’t identify or contribute to any one thing, but a heaviness that has me questioning everything and crying about it all.

I just need to get back on track. Keep the crazy at bay.

Emily [while handing Brady over to me]: Doesn’t he just make you want to have one?
Me: Actually, yes.

But of course I didn’t mean that I actually wanted to have a baby. I’ve always wanted to adopt, and I still do if circumstances allow someday. What I meant was that it seems more realistic than it ever has (which isn’t saying much) that someday I might actually be ready to be a mother. As much as Brady has stolen my heart, my uterus is still not calling to me.

Later when I recalled the conversation, without context, to someone else, that person commented how until Brady was born, Andrea never thought she’d love being a mom. There’s just something about carrying a child for 9 months and giving birth to it that creates a deep instinctual love.

“Don’t you think it could be the same with an adopted child?” I asked.

“You can still feel that, but it’s not quite the same. Andrea can’t stand to be away from Brady for long.”

“But don’t you think I’d feel the same way with a child I adopted?”

“Maybe…”

I think what that conversation proved to me was that no matter what, some people just won’t be as excited about me adopting children as they would be about my birthing them. I’ve noticed this before. Little glimpses of pure joy when someone thinks it’s possible I might procreate.

One relative’s unfettered joy when I said future pregnancies are not entirely ruled out.

Another’s comments about how they’re sure I’m going to change my mind about having babies after seeing me with Brady.

They always try to backtrack when I remind them that adoption is my first and most likely choice, assuring me that they’re just as excited about that idea, and they’ll of course love my children exactly the same. But I can tell there’s a difference.

I’m not sure yet if this is a bad thing, an acceptable thing, or just a complete non-issue. Do I care that they’re eyes light up when they think for a second that I’ve given up on the whole adoption dream and replaced it with the possibility of pregnancy? Does it bother me that they can’t muster the same genuine thrill when I talk about adoption? I don’t quite know.

Part of it might be that I’ve talked about adoption for sooo looong, that the idea of changing my mind shocks them into excitement. In fact, I bet that’s a lot of it. Yet, still. Still, there’s something else there. I just have to decide what that means to me.

(Just to be clear, I’m not at all talking about the Giraffe here. After re-reading, I worried maybe someone would think that.)

Last night I had a dream that Brad, my ex-boyfriend, was breaking up with me all over again. It was a wretched feeling, and I remember feeling this overwhelming dread that I was going to have to go through it all again. The depression, the sadness, the lonliness, the emptiness, the deep dark dread of every day.

I woke up with the remnants of those feelings still lingering. And then I remembered where I was. I rememberd Mike and how happy he makes me and how we’re getting married in five months. And how I feel really happy with life right now.

And holy shit was I relieved!

On Christmas day, my dad said we should all go around and answer two questions:

1. What was your biggest accomplishment of 2009?
2. What is one thing you plan to accomplish in the future?

We never actually got to this activity because we waited for my sister and her husband to get there, who had another party and got there just about the time my Christmas Cold was kicking in and I had to go home to bed. But I thought I’d do it here.

1. My biggest accomplishment of 2009.
I hate to measure my successes through education and career, but I think this year I have to say my biggest accomplishment was getting a Master’s degree and finding a good job as a result.

2. My plans for accomplishment in the future.
In the next year, I hope to learn how to be a great partner in a marriage. I know it’ll take a lifetime of learning, and I still might never get it right, but next year will bring my first attempt.

Hope you all had a great 2009, and if you didn’t so much, I hope your 2010 is rockin’. I hope EVERYONE has a spectacular year, in fact.

I’d love it if you contributed to my and the Giraffe’s “Unity Quilt.” Get the details at S&M.

I just got home from my second ever professional massage. The Giraffe’s mom generously gave me a gift card to a spa for my birthday, and I used it to get an 80-minute massage today. It. Was. Heaven. I want one every single day. If I ever hit it rich, that is one thing I’ll splurge on – daily (ok, maybe weekly) massages. Here are some of my thoughts on this massage compared to the last one:

- Thirty minutes are awesome, but 80 minutes are spectacular!

- This masseuse didn’t talk to me at all during the massage. I think I liked it that way.

- The music, though meant to be soothing, was distracting. I would have preferred ocean sounds or something.

- There were a few parts of my lower back that actually hurt when she massaged them. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, so I just gritted my teeth and waited for her to move on.

- I couldn’t shut my mind up. I didn’t do any productive thinking, but my mind was turning the whole time. I tried to internally yell at myself to SHUT UP AND RELAX! but it didn’t work. Next time I get a massage, I need to figure out how to quiet my mind.

- She massaged almost every inch of my body. Including my butt. Very tastefully, of course.

Overall, it was an incredible experience and I can’t wait until I can go again.

I’ve been reading Kirtsy for awhile now. It’s a good way to see what’s new and interesting on the internet. So a long time ago (I’m not sure how long anymore…), when the editors announced they were creating a book and asked for book title suggestions, I threw out an idea.

Kirtsy: Take a Bow

And then I forgot about the whole thing. That is, until they announced the decision they’d made some time later. They had combined a few different suggestions and came up with: kirtsy takes a bow. a celebration of women’s favorites online.

As you can probably tell, one of the ideas they used was mine, and as a result I would receive a free copy of the book AND I got to contribute a piece to be published in it.

I submitted a few pieces from my blog and included the URL in case they saw something else they’d like to use instead. I had no idea what they were looking for. None at all. So I submitted a variety of pieces, from heavy to humorous. But, it was so long ago that I honestly don’t remember what exactly I sent. When the book showed up in the mail last week, I started sweating because I had no idea what I was going to find.

I mean I was being published. In print. And I had no idea, out of all the things I’ve written on this blog in the last five years, what I was going to find when I opened the book.

Turns out they selected a post called “Insignificance” that I had written in the wake of my breakup with my ex, Brad.

(That is not a picture of me.)

As I reread the piece, it seemed so strange. I’m so far from that time and those emotions now, so it’s almost surreal to see those words somewhere other than my blog archives. I guess this is one good thing that came out of that hard time (along with the obvious, as the Giraffe pointed out: “You had to go through all that to find me”). It got me published! Ok actually the fact that I came up with a witty title suggestion got me published because Lord knows I would never have made it into this book on my own merit, but the experience of feeling that heart-broken and insignificant gave me something to write that Laura Mayes (the editor) was able to stomach including.

And as much as I am being self-deprecating here, when I reread those words from the book, it so aptly expressed how I was feeling when I wrote it, and really, that’s a sign of good writing. Right?

Even though, I gotta say, this was the coolest part to see…

…it was also pretty awesome to be listed amongst some incredible writers.

Thanks Kirtsy!

Many years ago I invented the Slanket in my head. I hated trying to cover myself with a blanket while reading because my arms would always get cold. A blanket with sleeves, that’s what I needed! Of course I never did anything with this brilliant idea, but I did get pretty excited when someone else followed through.

This was the Giraffe’s birthday gift to me. Thanks babe, I love it!

Yesterday was the Giraffe’s and my anniversary. Our first date was on December 11, 2008. Unfortunately (even though it was fun), the holiday party for my new employer was last night, so that’s how we spent the evening. Tonight though, we’re recreating part of our first date by visiting the same restaurant as that fateful night.

He tells the whole story here.

Also, we’re getting married one year, six months and one day after we first met in person. Which means we’re getting married exactly six months from today!

It’s been two days, and people, I’m exhausted. Being in the car two and a half hours a day when it’s dark on a boring highway drive is tiring. I get up earlier than I used to, and I get home much later. Last night I got home just in time to eat a few slices of pizza the Giraffe picked up before we headed out for our book club. I ditched out of that a little early just in time to get home to check my email and fall into bed. Tonight after my long commute I had to stop for gas (which promises to be an every-other-day occurrence), pick up Oberon from the vet and stop for some drive-thru dinner (because the thought of even pouring myself a bowl of cereal sounded like too much work).

The time at work is about what you’d expect on the first couple days. Monday was really busy with meeting people, filling out paperwork and sitting in on a couple meetings. Today mostly consisted of fighting with my computer, sifting through various files to see if I could make sense of anything, and rearranging the furniture in my office.

Today also happens to be my birthday, and it’s been a strange one. I haven’t talked to anyone today who actually knows it’s my birthday. The Giraffe is gone before I get up, nobody at work knew it was my birthday as it’s only my second day there, and my phone was so low on battery that I couldn’t answer it nor even check voicemail (note to self: get a car charger!). I also got tons of happy birthday emails, facebook messages and texts, many of which I couldn’t read until I got home just now. In fact, I forgot several times that today was even my birthday!

I don’t even care though. I want to take a shower, watch a few minutes of TV, and go to sleep. Because I have to be on the road long before the sun comes up tomorrow morning.

PS – Did I mention how thankful I am for this job?