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"I got to thinking one day about all those women on the Titanic who passed up dessert at dinner that fateful night in an effort to 'cut back.' From then on, I've tried to be a little more flexible."
(Erma Bombeck)

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July 15th, 2008 was my husband's 49th birthday. It was also the day that my Group Health doctor had made an appointment to give me the results of my breast biopsy. Instead, her office staff called me the day before to tell me that my doctor was OUT on July 15th and that she would see me on July 16th. To say that I was freaking out a little is an understatement. I had valiantly (or so I thought) endured living through a FRIDAY, SATURDAY, SUNDAY, MONDAY, and TUESDAY trying to distract myself and keep from going insane while wondering if I actually had breast cancer. Asking me to wait ONE MORE DAY seemed to be the cruelest of ironies. There was nothing I could do, however. The doctor was OUT.


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