Bibliomama

 This is going back a couple of weeks because "time's lost all meaning" keeps climbing to new heights. But a couple of weeks ago, a few not-catastrophic but not-awesome things happened in quick succession: I had a biopsy done on the mass in my breast. The doctor and nurse could not have been lovelier, everything was explained really well and the care was compassionate in the extreme. But I reacted badly to the tape over the gauze, so in addition to massive bruising and a small healing incision I had a couple of really painful lesions on my boob and the whole thing looked like it had been mauled. My dad has been having a weird pain under his rib cage for going on two months now. He's had x-rays, ultrasounds, bloodwork and one really stupid physiotherapy appointment over the phone (who the fuck thought that was a good idea). The pain was worse again so I took him to my physiotherapist and talked to his doctor about getting him some pain relief, because "I don't

 I am a hot mess. I had a great conversation today with friends in an ongoing Facebook chat (ongoing for ... I don't know how to check how many years now - Hannah? Nicole? Any idea?) about how two of us were hanging back from the conversation because we were struggling and didn't feel like burdening the others with our complaints, even though we know rationally that whenever we do, everyone is compassionate and supportive, and we feel better. One of depression's major Insult to Injury Features is that it both takes you out at the knees and whispers in your ear that your pain is unearned and unimportant and no one will believe you or care.  But first, the good stuff: Watch this space! Ready? THERE'S AN EVE IN IT! We stowed a couple of things (microwave, bedside table drawers, bin of dishes) in Matt's brother's garage not too far away because she wasn't going to have access to her house until May. We had pretty easily fit everything in the Rav going down, with