Got the results from the latest mole biopsy and it was just a mildly atypical mole. Woohoo! There’s not even any evidence that these kinds of moles ever turn into melanoma, but it’s all gone anyway, so no worries. Hooray! And just when my mind was starting to mess with me (since this would have been perfect timing for horrible news, just before the holidays).

Now I can go back to just fretting over the allergic reaction I seem to have developed to adhesives. My stomach biopsy was itchy and red about a square inch around the biopsy site (and less so in the exact shape of the bandaid I put over it), but this chest one got to be about 3-4 inches square and itched like a MOTHER. Some Benadryl (and several naps) later, as well as some judicious application of some hydrocortisone cream later, the itchiness is mostly gone (THANK GOD), and the red area is definitely smaller. The awesome part is that I have to keep it covered in Vaseline to help it heal, but I can’t cover it with anything (see aforementioned allergy to adhesives causing this bizness in the first place). So that means I have to wear scoop neck shirts and just hope no one thinks I have a giant open sore (which I don’t, but it kind of looks like that).

I don’t think I’ve talked about this here yet, but one of the hardest things about these constant biopsies + a small, flailing baby who doesn’t really yet control her own limbs is that I am constantly defensive of my body. Just as one wound heals, I get another, in a new place. First, I had to pull away any time Emmie got near the right side of my neck from all the nerve damage from my surgeries. Then, I actually had her accidentally swipe her hand near my forehead after another surgery and come away with her tiny hand covered in my blood. Horrible. Then, when I had the biopsy on my stomach, I had to be careful how I held her when she nursed so she wouldn’t pull at the stitches. And now I have to hold my free hand up constantly while she nurses because she always swings her free arm right around my chest and grabs at whatever she can find.

OK, enough jabber. I know the reason you come here.

Emmie, wearing the antique christening gown I wore when I was a baby, looking like the happiest little doll you’ve ever seen.

Almost creepy in her doll-like-ness.

The next two pictures were taken a split second apart.

Babies are definitely like tiny deranged people off their meds.

And because yesterday was my own mama’s birthday:

Happy birthday, Grandma.