Its a subject most of us would prefer not to discuss. Something being probed up in an area where the goods train is working, doing its natural course in life.  Arguing against that natural we also want to make sure our health is what it should be, so I gave that permission.  Permission granted to be analyzed.  My date loomed and tonight was the night so I read the instructions and did the first prep powder packet in one full glass of water in the allocated time slot.  Not a bad concoction and I would liken it to a fizzy orange flavoured Berocca,  An hour later my colon let me know progression was imminent.  I also now know that, that was the start of the “gentle” evacuation procedure.  3 hours later at 9pm on the dot,  I mixed up the next potion but this time it had to be in a litre of water and to be drunk over an hour.  It was sweet and okay but it was a lot to sip in that time frame but all good as it killed the hunger pains.  2 hours later with just the most gentlest warning that something might happen, I was thrown into the deep end of sudden mass restocking of toilet supplies whilst having intermittent potty talk.  Trust me nothing was coming out of my mouth.  I knew I had sipped this in 10 minute increments to make sure I got through it all so was now aware I had at least 5 minutes in between each resting period.  I had drunk extra water with a warning from others of the high possibility of “the ring of fire” so whilst forced sitting I thought about it and decided I would use some vaseline just incase.  I wanted to make sure my presentation the next day was at least looking as good as it could. In the short gap I had I hunted for the vaseline.  There was none in the house that I could find.  Then I remembered the dog container.  Where all dog things live.  Tablets, flea stuff and YUSS vaseline.  I looked in the pottle and saw all the stabbed holes where Willow the dog had also been analysed whilst waiting for labour.  I said No way.   Bum said yes way.  I said no way.  Bum said scrape all stuff off top way.  I said no way.  Bum said it will be clean at the bottom way.  I said no way.  Bum won.  I scraped till there was just enough left on the bottom that I could guarantee had not seen the tip of the dog thermometer.   I vowed to tell no one of this and will take this to my grave.  At 2am, 3 hours and 4 toilet rolls later I was hoping it was safe enough to have a shower and go to bed. I was just putting protective clothing on just incase and thought I may as well put some more vaseline on.  I grabbed the pottle and snuck into the toilet. I finger scooped some vaseline and was just about to fold in half and do the deed when I got a whiff off my finger…..Should have kept my glasses on…..  It was Vicks Vaporub. Id call that a lucky escape…………………..

I know I was a little sleep deprived at the time. My body was trying to function as normal as possible but life goes on and doesn’t wait for the tired to catch up. I needed to go into town and do a few pickups at the warehouse and then off to do the grocery shop. The warehouse was no problem and the shopping also went without a hiccup until I finished unloading and the shop assistant finished her tally and smiled as she said the horrible amount. I went into my purse to pull out the plastic fantastic to begin the swipe to pay my bill. The card was not in my purse. Oh that feeling that sweeps over you instantly. The black cloud that suddenly swarms right above your head and tries with hurricane force to pour ideas into your bewildered brain. “Where is my card?” “Durr you lost it.” “It must be in my bag.” “Nope,” you lost it.” “But I just used it.” “Nope someone else is using it right now. They going to rip you off millions.” “I don’t have millions but what I do have is all mine. Please please God let my card be safe somewhere Ahhhh” My insane mind is conversing with my tired sanity like a bullet train on a deadline. Trying to convince me my life is over, my bank account is empty, someone has robbed me of all my $$s and You’ve lost your card!!! “I’m sorry,” I confess to the lady as she stares at my bewildered face. “I think I’ve misplaced my card. ” There was no sympathy or advice but only a sharp press on her buzzer as she summoned her boss to halt my order. “If you could come over here ma’am we can hold this for you for a few hours ,” she explains to which I explain I had just come from the warehouse so I will go straight back and see if it is there. “She thinks you are an old fart and have lost your marbles and they are all laughing at you,” the black cloud tells me. I leave with all sorts of emotions rushing on top of each other and make a super fast exit to my car. The panic is surreal. The thoughts are confused yet real. The prayers are real. I slap my phone on speaker dial as I drive back to the warehouse and talk to the bank at the same time making sure I keep to the speed limit and not add anything else to my predicament. The warehouse behaves supreme and makes me wait 5 minutes while they check their cameras that unbeknown to me at the time, hang above the tills. It shows me clearly swiping and returning the card to my wallet. As I drive back to the supermarket I realise and agree with my thoughts that it has to have fallen out doing the rounds. I also dissect the new information I had learnt from The Warehouse. They watch you at the checkout! Of course they do? I could have picked old snotty 🙁 . Is there someone up there on duty watching our private itches and scratches behind the view of the teller? “Who cares,” my mind reminds me as I realise my card could be siphoning my life savings via someone else as these horrible thoughts interrupt the prayers. I park in the same car park as I had previously left. Funny how on a good day you can’t find one but yay today for what ever reason, it is still vacant. I do the old age fast paced waddle and race back into the shop heading on a direct bee line to the Lady who is holding my trolley of groceries. “The warehouse shows I put it in my purse,” I quickly tell her so that I can begin the monster hunt through out the shop. “It’s okay we have your card. It has been handed in,” she replied. “Just after you walked out of the shop in fact.” The relief that sweeps over ones soul. The air that is suddenly available to breathe normal. The colour that returns to the face. The frown that disappears. The thoughts that shift and now want to gift that amazing person who handed my card in, all the millions I have. (That last thought doesn’t last long). “Who handed it in?” I ask “The lady at the checkout. You had already put it into the swipe machine part way through while you were waiting for her to finish the order………………………

I was looking after a sick grandchild overnight and it was a long night of broken sleep. At my age interrupted sleep was starting to be the norm but one would think I might be just about be used to it but no, I am still struggling to adjust. Hopefully that means I am still more on the young side than I am sliding down the old side. I will make full use of the “Nana nap” invention. Today would definaltey see one happening later on in my house for sure but right now, I needed to get one grandchild off to school. It was brush your hair time and she asked for help to get her hair in one place for a pony tail. The little whispy bits were deciding to go which ever way they pleased this morning so being in a hurry I asked Grandy if she wanted some hairspray to help hold them all together for at least part of the day? “Yes please Nana,” came the response so off I went to get my hairspray. I put it down right where she was at and proceeded to finish tidying up the stray hairs. After covering her face and ears with my hand I picked up the hairspray and sprayed away. “Ahhh Nana. That smells funny,” she said causing me to look at the can in my hand. It was my black can of hairspray so what was the problem? Then I instinctively looked back to where I had picked the can up from and there the hairspray was still sitting. Confused I looked at what then was in my hand. . Ooops. A can of Black Flag Fly Spray that just happened to be sitting right beside the hairspray. “There shall be no flies on your head today Grandy.” I proudly announced………

I was looking after a sick grandchild overnight and it was a long night of broken sleep.  At my age interrupted sleep was starting to be the norm but one would think I might be just about be used to it but no, I am still struggling to adjust.  Hopefully that means I am still more on the young side than I am sliding down the old side.  I will make full use of the  “Nana nap” invention. Today would definaltey see one happening later on in my house  for sure but right now,  I needed to get one grandchild off to school.  It was brush your hair time and she asked for help to get her hair in one place for a pony tail.  The little whispy bits were deciding to go which ever way they pleased this morning so being in a hurry I asked Grandy if she wanted some hairspray to help hold them all together for at least part of the day? “Yes please Nana,” came the response so off I went to get my hairspray.  I put it down right where she was at and proceeded to finish tidying up the stray hairs.  After covering her face and ears with my hand I picked up the hairspray and sprayed away. “Ahhh Nana.  That smells funny,” she said causing me to look at the can in my hand.  It was my black can of hairspray so what was the problem? Then I instinctively looked back to where I had picked the can up from and there the  hairspray was still sitting.  Confused I looked at what then was in my hand.  .  Ooops.  A can of Black Flag Fly Spray that just happened to be sitting right beside the hairspray. “There shall be no flies on your head today Grandy.” I proudly announced………

I’m a mum who has been there and done that in almost every situation.  So from experience I KNOW that there is no safe place to hide in your home from your children.  Including the toilet.  Yes the toilet.   The minute you think right, I’ll sneak off for 5 minutes of peace and then the second  you drop your drawers and relax on the cold hard porcelain, you hear those words.  “MUUUUM!”   At first you ignore them because you are doing a huge chest inflated sigh and are deciphering if the mum sound is actually an emergency call or just a nagging loved one.  We all know that ignorance does not win and the MUM! just increases until you yell a full vein popping response of “I’M ON THE TOILET!” thanking yourself that you are in the right position should you cause a wee accident with the great gusto you just blurted out. You are also hoping that the neighbour didn’t hear your unloved I hate my children scream that has proved to them that all along that you are a bad mother. You add in a less than happy voice  “Someone better be dying out there because IM BUSY!”  Of course no child ever listened to the feeder cleaner make my life easier person on the toilet trying to do her business in peace.  Well I have news for you.  Once they grow up and fly the coup in doesn’t get any better.  You shift from children to  grandchildren and they are no different to their parents unless cute is your only comparison, but they too also wail at your private door.  Once Grandys are aged a bit then we move on to the pets.  YES the PETS. I have somehow managed to accumulate  4 pet cats.  Two of whom must follow me everywhere.  Whether it be gardening or sewing or going to the loo.  The ginger one sits and watches me sew while the greyish one does gardening and yes the toilet watch.  I have actually had quite a few toilet stops now where no human has ever called out mum.  It will happen moms and dads but sorry to say it is way down the line when the wrinkles reign and the aching bits constantly remind you of your lost youth.  Now that I am at the other end of this scenario I don’t have to shut the door.  I used to not only shut it but lock it and unless I heard a thud in the house from the other side (not my side) and maybe some screaming followed by blood  gushing underneath the door, I am alone and locked in my world for as long as I possibly can get it. Since I have downgraded to one nosey cat,  I now just rush in and push the door semi closed and get on into my full relaxed mode. Greyish cat isn’t happy with not being able to shadow me so will spend a bit of time meowing at the door before she taps the door until finally I see a little white paw pushing past through the gap and suddenly Hello.  It doesn’t bother me too much as the kids are gone, grandys are not here and its just me and the cats and they can’t tell anyone what they can see. If anyone was to sit on my toilet with the door open they would look out over past the kitchen to the big window that encases an outside servery and if someone was to walk past that servery then it would not be a pretty site for them but since I am mostly home alone, it has never been a problem. Now I am used to toilet = cat meowing = cat scratching = door opening = helloooo mummy is busy do you mind? I might add that this has been happening for a good two years now so we are in a good routine and very habitual and I don’t give it another thought.   It’s absolutely normal to have a cat watch me go to the toilet. Hubby decided a week ago to hire a professional crowd to wash our house.  First time we have ever done this and due to our age and physical ability we both thought why not. A two hour job done by two men  is better than me taking a week to water blast it and another week to recover from my spider phobia. Today sees these men turn up and start their two hour stretch.  Today sees them get on with their job and work at a great speed.  Today sees the front of house done in the first hour and now they at the back doing the 2nd half.  One is working on the verandah.  The same verandah that encases my kitchen window.  The same kitchen window I can see from my toilet.  Where am I?  Busting to go of course because I wouldn’t go while they were blasting that side of the house I am weeing in in-case  A: they hear me and B: a spider might come blasting through the window.  So now I’m relaxing with the usual meow and tap tap tap and the door slowly opening when suddenly it dawns on me.  Man cleaning veranda = cat pushing door open = old lady on toilet = my two year  “no one has seen me” record is about to be exposed = PANIC PANIC SHOO CAT NOOOOO= QUICKEST PAPER WORK IN HISTORY ….

Seriously! When you are in charge of 4 wheels, one would expect that you have passed your licence legally and it had not been handed to you when it fell out of a cereal box. Yes for some of us ‘older’ people, we got goodies that fell out of cereal boxes.   Not cool when you were one of 12  children and had to wait for your month to get your turn but since I am talking about driving a wheeled object, I’ll lay my deprived childhood aside. Whilst out this morning I encountered not 1 but 2 drivers who didn’t care about anyone else but themselves. I am heading down my side, on a mission but clearly watching ahead and doing the  required left and right precaution look, when suddenly the first she driver pulls out right across in front of me.  She did not look to see if anyone was coming.  Right then Left then Right was what I remember being taught.   But no, across she came cutting me clean off.   I was right on the speed limit too but I did manage to stop without all my possessions being forced into one pile in the front.  That was the exact moment that, that childhood memory flashed into my disgruntled mind. Licence- cant drive – licence – cereal box – licence- must have fell out CAUSE YOU DONT KNOW HOW TO DRIVE!!   After catching my breath and readjusting the horrible look that had escaped on my face, I managed to smile at the back of her head and carry on past.  I had only just gone around the corner after leaving Ms Cut off Cow,  when I encountered another female with erratic driving.  More break fluid was used as I suddenly realised not only was she erratic but she was going at snail pace and going diagonally across the lane.  With smoke freshly seeping from my shoes, I thought it would be best to maybe undercut and go on the inside of her.  Technically that is the lane I was in so it would seem natural to continue but then she stopped dead in her mid diagonal movement, leaving me almost going clean up her rear. These drivers are the worst.  They take up both lanes and don’t allow anyone to get past and appear to be oblivious to anyone around them and to the hassle they are causing.  Having to stop completely for Ms Diagonal Dipstick and wait while she scratches every part of her body and contemplates on whether she should move back to my lane or continue to the other side, still without looking,  I find my patience is wearing thin.  I cant go left and I cant go right as now someone is coming down the right side towards us.  She has selfishly claimed the whole 2 lanes  and I am left wondering  if I am ever going to make it to the end of my day without anymore cray crays on the way? 3 minutes in a stalled shopping trundle is way too long for anyone.  Come on shoppers.. keep your speed up and there is no need to itch, scratch, pick ,flick or stare blank faced when you should clearly know where your items are in the isles……  

I went on a school trip with Grandys to visit an historical place and learn how our Great Grandparents lived.  Living in their grass huts then upgrading to mud and finally onto wooden houses over years of time.  School learning with the cane lurking to homemade toys with no batteries.  It was a really good day and fascinating on all levels.   Half way through experiencing all this olden day life, I needed to visit the toilet.  I was absolutely delighted to find that there were no bed pans or a long drop experience required to participate in and that there were modern facilities tucked away in an old building. My personal job done, I proceeded to the final hand wiping duty when I was aware of 2 ladies talking outside.  I couldn’t hear what they were saying but when I thought I heard our school being mentioned I made an extra effort to listen. One would call it eaves dropping.  There was an issue and the school was not being held in a good light. I immediately  went into defence mode and asked what the problem was as in my opinion, our school is one of the most polite and well-managed schools around.  We always get compliments from school outings about how well-behaved they are.    This lady was the cleaner doing her rounds and had just happened to come at the same time  I had come to do my business.  According to her, one of the small males had made a dash on his own into the toilet and left a mess.  Still defensive I explained it couldn’t be us as our children are always accompanied by an adult but she was determined that it was our little bundle of cuteness that had left his bundle of uncool cuteness all over the place.  Here was where I was about to make mistake No. 1. “Can I see this mess please?” I asked as I thought maybe I  needed proof of this accusation, since no one had actually seen him do anything but rush in.  She allowed me to poke my innocent head around the corner and have a quick peak. Oh my goodness!  Oh somebody save me!  Oh heck!  Oh my freaking mumma!  I want my mumma. Oh Lordy Lord!   HOW could one so small and precious make that amount of doo doo?  The smell was so horrific it burnt my nostril hairs clean out from inside my nose.  Spasms were forming deep within my gut.  Heaving motions were rhythmically trying to escape from my inner most being.  I backed up quickly and  stepped away from the image now firmly printed in my mind no doubt to periodically torment me forever.   It was disgusting on a whole new level.  How could I save our school reputation now?  How could they believe us to be anything but a big pile of dirty doo doo. Whilst I was still sifting and sorting raw images in my head, the ladies declared that they wanted to speak to someone in charge as they felt this needed to be reported.   They went in one direction while I went off in the other.   I found our person in charge and enlightened them on the delicate situation.  The cleaner advised she would come and point out the child at lunchtime and in the mean time the school routine could carry on while she, the cleaning lady, did her job.  What could I do but offer to help.  Surely this had to be brownie points for the school?  Ooops maybe “brownie” was not a good choice of a word to use. Off she went to get her supplies to  which I hope included a few pegs for our noses.  Soon the 3 of us stood back outside the door that separated us from a half hour in time that could change us forever if things did not go according to health and safety plans.  Realising our name was now shot, hung and dried out for everyone to soon see in her eyes, I made mistake No 2. “Before you start could I please take a picture?”  Why the heck would I like a picture is beyond me but I thought I could use it for some form of defence somewhere maybe down the track.  I leaned in and just quickly clicked away  then retreated  back into the fresh air. Being just the offered help I waited for the  cleaner to initiate some effort but with much muttering and body pacing, she could not bring herself to enter the  cubicle.  This was obviously a whole new soil level that she had not experienced before.   Mistake no 3. “Give me your gloves.  Ill do it.” said a weird voice that slipped right out from my mouth before I could control and stop it.  The thoughts in my head were yelling “are you kidding?” but she had ripped those gloves off so fast and put them in my hand before I could contemplate retracting my stupid offer.   With purple gloves firmly pulled on and a bag shoved in my hand, I entered into the pit of no return.  I knew I would not come out the same.  I took a huge big breath and held on while I turned the corner to look at what I had offered to somehow scoop up. It was worse than I thought.  It was on the net curtain.  Like a lot of it was on the net curtain.   Like the mother of all nuclear bombs had gone off and it had plastered all over the net curtains.  I was stunned in my tracks.  Mistake no 4. I gasped  knowing I could not inhale anything of any nature so immediately mistake No 5 stepped in.  Pride cometh before a fall.   I had too much pride in my school and too much pride in myself to say “you can stick this job, so I gave myself a 1 second Nike pep talk and said  “Just do it.” In my 30 second breath hold, I  unhooked the curtains and dropped them right onto the code brown.  I told myself, if I couldn’t see it, it wasn’t there.  I made sure the bag was pre opened and then I lent over and scooped it all together and threw it sideways into the bag knowing if I felt anything in this one scoop wonder then it would be all over rover.  Mistake No 5. I had to look to see if I had picked it up and my 30 seconds of holding my breath was up.  I needed air so I had no choice but to inhale.  Success, but the relief was short-lived as I realised there was no way I was going to stop the dry retching that was imminent.  I proceeded to get up  and quickly leave the cubicle but the noises beat me and  they were escaping from my mouth.   It is very rare that I vomit but when I do attempt the stomach return motion, I am indeed a very loud raaalph imitator to which I was loudly accommodating today.   A continuous stomach workout was happening as I stumbled outside into the open air.   I turned to the ladies and said.. “It is done and the plastered artwork is now your problem.” “I guess I will have to wash the curtain?” the cleaner said to which I replied while gasping my new fresh air. “There is no curtain anymore.  Trust me.  It cannot be washed”  I quickly walked away before my stupid mouth offered any more help even though I could hear “You are  a legend.” coming from one of them.  This was not the fame I was after. I reconnected with my Grandy and her activity whilst silently mulling over what just happened when suddenly my analytical natural mind kicked in with new-found understanding that it wasn’t us.  Sadly it meant I had to have another look at the picture on my phone but I knew I was onto something good.  Good for our school. “Must delete this evidence once I prove my point” I told myself when I realised I had indeed made a satisfying discovery if ever there was going to be any satisfaction in code brown land. I went back and found the unhappy cleaner who was still declaring our school was at fault when I pointed out to her the facts that were steering at us in black and white.  Well maybe we could say brown and browner.  I showed her the picture and declared my opinion to which she agreed.  It could not have been a school child thus leaving our schools reputation intact. What did I discover on an alphabetical level.  A:  Way too much poo for a tiny cute human.  B:  Way too high up the curtain.   No acrobatic activity could ever produce it that high.  It physically wasn’t possible  C:   If it wasnt a child then it had to be an adult.   E:  Oh nooo.  Stuff the alphabet.  It was an adult and  I just helped to clean up an adults poop.  Oh please Heavenly Father.   Please tell me there is  a medal out there for me some where for me.  Mummas gunna have nightmares for a loong time……..  

“Put your hands up!”   It is early in the morning and I am  sound asleep in Lala land yet my mind seems to understand what is happening around me.  The male voice yells louder “PUT YOUR HANDS UP!!!    I leap out of bed going direct from sleep to instant alive and registering within these 2 states that there is a full on armed defenders raid going on right outside my house.  I stumble and fall on the floor, tangled in my light green sheet that has cacooned me all night.  My mind is soo not awake.  Where the heck am I?  I struggle to de-tangle myself.  Wait, this is not even my bed.  What the heck is happening? “PUT YOUR HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM.”  Yes we are DEFINITELY under attack.  My mind is now in full on receiving mode with thoughts tumbling in, in no particular order, waiting to be organised.   Camera, Dressing gown, Facebook post, shoes, undies.  What do I look like? Can I get this live?   Why is this sheet still attacking me?  Hurry, they might be dangerous, phone, phone, where’s my phone, quick press record.  Who the heck puts a lock on their phone?   Hurry, this could be good coverage and where the heck am I?  Is this my bed ahhhhh wake up wake up.   I finally detach myself from the green monster and rush around like a snail on hot concrete.  Hmmm bad vision.  He would be instant Escargot wouldn’t he?  Not much squirming on that slime but a severe crunch I reckon.    I stop for a split second to allow my mind to catch up and look around at my surroundings only to comprehend that I am not in my bedroom but I am on the recliner in the lounge.  That’s right.  I have had my neck out for nearly 2 months.  Absolutely a pain in the neck.  Excuse the pun but seriously not cool on any level and as far as pain goes.. way up there on the end scale.  I can tolerate a fair amount of pain but this pain has seen me reduced to a blubbering mess outside a chemist whilst poor hubby waited in the car trying not to look at his snotty wife, because I’m too twisted to be allowed to drive and the chemist  has refused me any pain  medication because I am on warfarin.  A blood thinning prescription for and up and coming heart op I am required to undergo.  So tears a plenty, weird posture movements and constant pinching that no physio seems to be able to relieve has seen me sleeping  upright in my recliner for quite a few nights.  This particular night I do recall pushing my luck and reclining back a good amount that allowed the sleep dribble to run down my mouth instead of dripping on my lap.  I classed it as good progress from 90 degrees to not quite coffin position.   PUT YOUR HANDS UP!!! the officer screams again, snapping me out of my short gap of standing still.  I am rushing to find my phone that I have accidentally thrown in the hatching of my caccoon  and also adjust the sparse nighty I have on.  No fame on any level will allow anyone seeing me in this attire.  What can I say it was a hot night and the hot flushes still pop in every other week to remind me of how old I am getting.  I gap it to my room, wrap my gown over my personalised aged  bits and grab the phone in the same stride to head out to the front door.  I can hear sirens and lots of yelling.  Fear grips me at the same time my hand grips my gown belt and I stand at the door ready to swing it open when I remember the golden rule I tell the Grandys.   Don’t open a door if you don’t know who is on the other side.   You have got to look through the window first.  This could be dangerous.  Police are still yelling,  I’m still dressing and I’m still trying to get the camera up on my phone, so I quietly  go to the spare room and look out the window.  Nothing.  Hmmm must be the other end of the house then.  Again the Armed defender squad yells PUT YOUR HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!”    I race down to the other end of the house now being fully dressed and fully prepared.  Suddenly a  ghastly smell knocks me clean into fully awake and I stop dead in my tracks feeling like I have hit a brick wall.  The smell is vile and not nice.  My nose is sniffing trying to figure how it died, what had died and how did it happen in the middle of an armed defenders call out?  The yelling stops.  The smells continues.  The sirens fade.  I hear a rustling of paper.  Oh my GOOSH I am soooo  furiously wide awake now. “ARE YOU IN THE TOILET ON YOUR CELL PHONE !” I yell to my mere male husband who has finally discovered You Tube 15 years behind everyone else thanks to his sons teaching him how to use the internet on his new mobile. A small silence is followed by a sheepish “yes”

Happy Booby valentines day to me. I have had a recall as they found a lump on my bi annual slammogram (mammogram) a few weeks back. It has been a horrible few weeks waiting and wondering, as they NEVER tell you anything on the phone.   One day I’m fine and the next I  am crying as I watch a lady walk across the pedestrian crossing with a  scarf on her head.    “That’s right you lose your hair with treatment,” my tormenting mind tells me.  At the Super  Clinic this Valentines morning I am in the 3 person queue. We go through 1 at a time to see the nurse then come back in gowns. Waiting for stage 1 of intense squashing and probing.  I have to read the forms and then am handed a biopsy form to sign, “just in case”  I refuse to sign it and prefer to pick up my mustard seed of faith and expect it to grow into a mighty tree of faith within the hour.  I will use my seed and believe.   I am then asked if I have brought a support person.  Good grief, wrong thing to say nurses helper.  Talk about self loading yourself with adrenalin , which causes my heart to do its woopsies.  Calm your farm mumma.  You can do this. Its valentines day so surely Feb the 14th is a good day. It was my Nana’s birthday too so I mentally send her up a happy heavenly birthday thought whilst trying to control my mind.   As the 3 of us sit in the waiting room braless and hanging free in our blue gowns I recall the odds of the 1 in 3 theory.  How awful that the odds are 1 of us will not get good news today.  I feel guilty because I want that person to be me but in order for it to be me, they have to have a life changing event happen to them today.  I am called through first and go to the plastic fantastic gunna squish you like a flat mat machine, only to be warned there will be severe localised squishing on the “target” spot.  Happy place happy place where are you?  It’s flipped and flopped and definitely flattened but soon my turn is over.  Back to the waiting room to pretend to watch TV while I wait for them to inspect the results and then go through to stage 2.    In comes a lovely young doctor fresh out of Kindy, who will now enlighten me and my bits about what is actually going  on.  She asks me to come over to the Xray to see “it”  The little white spot looks the size of a sweet corn my grandson passed multiple times in his nappy change the other day.  “This is what we are looking at,” she starts to explain as my head is like OMGOSH and oh this is real now and please just call me a lumpy old cow that doesn’t have cancer. On our Xrays today where we squished and targeted the spot, it disappeared.” “Oh what does that mean?” I ask with still way too many thoughts  racing  in my head. “It’s a good sign.  Cancer doesn’t just disappear it shows up better and I cannot see anything so I am going to do a scan to double check for both of us.” she stated.  “This is good news for you.” I ripped that gown off so fast and plopped my double floppies out and let her scan away. “ALL CLEAR see you in 2 years.” As I walk out skipping on cloud 9, I thank God for my Valentines Day present and I ponder back to the 2 ladies undergoing their results.  I almost want to go into the waiting room and yell I’m the lucky one, but that would make me not just a lumpy old cow but a mean one too.  Good luck ladies and here’s hoping we do a hat trick today.  I silently go back to my car instead and message the good news to my support crew  ……..

Ordered my Get Skinny and Healthy pack.  Ripped it open to find my magic pill to make me skinny.  Nothing.  Looked deeper into the imaginary box to find the potion that will strip away that which I have piled on top of that which my mumma gave me.  Couldn’t find it either.  RIP OFF  🙁   No magic potion no diet pill no works of wonder.  What!!! I have to eat right and exercise. REALLY .  Is this a joke?