Tuesday I had surgery to remove my cancer, today I got fired from my best-paying steady gig. A column I've been writing for over two years. Cancer surgery and canned in the same week? Ouchie.
I know bad things come in threes, so I'm terrified to see what the rest of the week(end) brings. Do I not leave the house, check my email or answer the phone? In better news, I got the pathology back from my doctor—it's all clear. They got all the cancer, which frees me up to quit worrying about death and apparently start freaking out about being broke. Oh well. At least I'm not dying. If you want to see the stitches—and believe me, it's a really disgusting situation, I've put the picture after the jump. I call it my FrankenAnkle.