A little while ago, one of my family members (D.'s dad's brother's wife, if you must know) got That Diagnosis. She found a lump in her breast, had a biopsy, and was told that the lump was made of pure evil and needed to be removed. Today, I'm going to the hospital to be part of the moral support while she has a lumpectomy.
I'm afraid I'm not taking this very seriously. The woman is so vibrant and alive that even considering that she might not be this way for ever seems... preposterous. So I'm wearing pink (though not ballon boobs), and have the following objectives:
1. Make people laugh.
2. Do not pass out; try not even to get lightheaded. (Major project, as this seems to happen to me in hospitals all the time. Even seeing one from the road makes me squirm in my seat just a little.)
3. Knit a baby hat as my friends are reproducing as though they get paid to do so. Not that I don't enjoy their babies.
4. Go to bathroom often, while unsavory plumbing situation at the new house is being fixed at expense of savings account.