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First, I want to thank everyone for their incredible generosity for our Hope for Two fundraiser. From the auctions and the donations I am aware of, we raised over $800 for Hope for Two. THANK YOU!!! Almost everything has shipped, and the last things should go out shortly.

Second, we have been consumed with anticipation for the coming month. We put in an offer on what may very well be our dream home, which was accepted, so now we have make it through all the other steps toward home ownership. We’re crossing all our fingers and toes that the inspection and appraisal go well, and that there are no other bumps in the road. I’m superstitious enough that I don’t want to go crazy and post all the details here until things are signed, sealed and delivered, but trust me when I say that daydreaming about the new place is pretty much all we do these days.

Third, Emmie and I are recovering from a cold that struck us on Friday. It definitely hit me harder than her (at least as far as I could tell through my achy exhaustion as I watched her crawl literal circles around our living room, laughing merrily through the snot).

Being sick has done something odd to my mental state. Last week, I felt like I was on top of the world. The weekend that marked my one year anniversary of my diagnosis and the two year anniversary of Alicia’s passing was remarkably happy and exciting, thanks to the astonishing success of the auctions and our finding of the dream home on Sunday. All I could think about was the future.

This week, being sick has reminded me that we are not always as strong as we think we are. Or maybe, to put it a different way, that no matter where we think we are, life (and germs, or cancer, or fate) can throw a wrench in our plans. I also started worrying about flying a little too close to the sun. Was I tempting fate again with our happiness? Was planning for our future a little too presumptuous?

To cap it off, I decided one of my remaining larger moles seemed to be changing. Not a ton, and honestly, I’m not even positive it really was, but it was enough for me to want it off. So it came off on Thursday and now we are waiting to hear biopsy results. My anxiety wasn’t helped by the fact that this biopsy site seemed like it turned black instead of white like all my other have.

All my others except my original melanoma, that is.

Of course my mind instantly went to “The chemicals they use must somehow react with the melanoma and that means this is a melanoma too!” But if it were that easy to diagnose melanoma, I’m pretty sure they would ask me what color it turned. After a day or so, my rational brain was able to reassert control and remind me that I left this bandage on MUCH longer than I’ve left other excision sites… other than my original melanoma (for which I had pretty much no instructions on how to care for it, since it wasn’t my derm who did it). So the color was probably more related to the length of time it was bandaged than any kind of diagnosis. But still, I won’t be soothed until I hear the official word.

So in the meantime, send a thought or a quick prayer for a big fat “BENIGN” for this little mole, and maybe another one or two for a smooth month until closing. Thank you 🙂

PS Funny story about my biopsy. You know how Emmie has always been so patient and quiet during my past appointments? Well this time she was sitting in her big girl stroller for the first time, so she had a new view of everything. As the dermatologist was giving me the lidocaine injection and shaving off the mole with a razor, Emmie just kept laughing. I was glad someone was enjoying it!