While I was out at lunch my mom's doctor called. I called him back and am waiting for him to call me back.

I don't need to know what he's going to tell me...I already know. Now it's more a matter of...when. Sort of like the few hours before surgery. You know something bad's got to come out and you might as well get it over with.

I've been itching madly all day. Don't know whether my car or my cubie is infested, if I'm finally having some type of weird allergic reaction to the penicillin, or, as James thinks, it's just stress.

I'm not generally superstitious, but, looking at the date...it figures...

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 1:00:00 PM

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