My lats look like that dude's in Magic Mike.

So I've never seen Magic Mike, but I remember seeing posters for it. And that dude in it - Channing Tatum - his lats look really, really weird. Like maybe he did too many lat workouts and not enough ab workouts. He looks like a beeyoutiful buttahfly.

Anywho, somehow, since having lost my bubbies, I have that same look going on. I don't know if they stitched me extra tight or what, but my lats look huge.

Um, so let me think if I have anymore tales to tell... My second day in the hospital was just one really long waiting game. They were going to discharge me. And then the doc got pulled into emergency surgery without having signed my discharge papers. So I had to wait for like six more hours. When he came back from surgery and we were discussing that future day when I can someday lose the blood grenades hanging from my weirdly buff lats (I'm fairly certain this won't happen in my lifetime), I practically held him by the lapels and threatened him. Okay, so I mainly just mentally grabbed his lapels, because I can't lift my arms to lapel level. And I said, "If you don't gently remove my blood grenades when the time comes, if you just RIP 'em out of there without a second thought or without backup gauze, I will CUT YOU." And I literally did that thing where I used my fingers to point to my eyeballs and then pointed to his face.

He asked who my oncologist is, and I told him, and he said, "Oh, good. I think his sense of humor and yours will match nicely."

Well, good. Can't wait to meet him.

Pepper keeps vigil over me when I'm in bed at home, and Molly keeps vigil when I'm sleeping in my parents' bed. They are my little therapy dogs. Pepper often sniffs my stitches, but always takes great care not to jostle or hurt me. She is such a babe. Amazing women have been taking my kids for a few hours every day while Ben works on the house. He couldn't paint today because it was raining, so he installed a backsplash in the kitchen.

I've been sleeping a lot, though today I went on a field trip with my sis to the mall to get t-shirts to wear to the Paul McCartney concert Thursday (I think I can go if I'm really careful and sit the whole time. I mean, this is Sir Paul! My dad got these tickets months ago...). I ordered one that has a cartoon of Paul's face. I love it. Lex got like a wordle of "Blackbird" on hers. As I read the lyrics, I was touched. They reminded me of me.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to be free.

Blackbird fly Blackbird fly

Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird fly Blackbird fly

Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

I love poetry, because you can make it apply to you. I know that my broken wings will learn to fly. I'll emerge from this stronger than ever. More glorious than ever. A better woman than I was. I truly believe that.

I will dance again.