Today we went to see Dr. Hodges, my plastic surgeon to get a tattoo on the right breast and give the nipple construction another try. It was all done in his office with local anesthesia on the breast. He talked about the act of doing both procedures at the same time and by the end, decided to wait on the tattoo for 2-3 months until the incisions on the nipple have healed. Sounded good to us. Anyway, I felt nothing when he gave me the injection of deadner on the breast itself, but when he got to the little bubble I've had between the 2 breasts since surgery that he corrected, now that I felt! He left for about 15 minutes and came back when I was good and numb and went to work. It took him about 15-20 minutes maybe. He bandaged me up. Told me to come back Friday for Amy, his assistant, to rebandage me. So I haven't seen what I look like under there yet.
I told Dr. Hodges that there were times now when I would actually forget that I had breast cancer and forget all we've been through. What a difference in 2 years! If he had known I was sick as a dog during the night throwing up, he probably would have told me to come back later. But it was something I ate I think, so we went anyway and I did fine.
We went to eat at a favorite old-fashioned hamburger place afterward, called JG's and got home around 12 noon. We had been gone a little over 3 hours. When we rounded the corner of our fence, there stood the side gate standing wide open. Both of our hearts went to our throats. 
Where was Sandy? Not in the yard. We got in the Durango and started driving, down our alley the other direction out to the main street in front of the house. We were both just sick. We were looking everywhere between houses with the windows down. We got to our house, just one block down, and who should be standing in the little porch at our front door? Mr. Sandman VIII. We were so proud of him! He knew exactly where he lived and came home when he got out. He was as happy to see us as we were to see him. This calls for U-bolts in the gates.
Where was Sandy? Not in the yard. We got in the Durango and started driving, down our alley the other direction out to the main street in front of the house. We were both just sick. We were looking everywhere between houses with the windows down. We got to our house, just one block down, and who should be standing in the little porch at our front door? Mr. Sandman VIII. We were so proud of him! He knew exactly where he lived and came home when he got out. He was as happy to see us as we were to see him. This calls for U-bolts in the gates.
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