Saga of the purple ta-ta

This whole lump-in-the-breast thing is a learning experience. Take yesterday morning for instance.

For some reason Furniture Man, my temporary name for IT Guy since his mother is crazy as a bedbug and his wife as lumpy as an old couch, likes the alarm to go off 40 or more times before he gets out of bed. It was probably on its 14th ring when he rolled towards me, mammogramming my purple ta-ta. The resulting high-pitched screams are probably why he immediately achieved wakefulness and a coronary on the floor by the side of the bed.

Needless to say, Furniture Man quickly learned to be careful around me and I learned to sleep with my left arm in a permanent reverse Pledge-to-Allegiance position.

This morning, as the alarm blared its 29th ring, Furniture Man warily turned towards me. Sensing he was on the move, I, ever in my reverse Pledge-to-Allegiance position, raised up slightly to protect the purple ta-ta and slammed my mouth into his downward spiraling, sucker-punching fist!

To be honest it wasn't really a fist, just the relaxed hand position we all sleep in. And he really wasn't trying to hit me, just hold me. It was just as much my fault as it was his but nevertheless I did see stars. Not big stars like George Strait and Ally McBeal but D-list ones like Kathy Griffen and Kathy Gifford. There were also eight little stars which I think were the Gosselin children. I didn't see any falling stars so their parents, Jon and Kate, must have been out on dates.

My radiologist called this morning at 10:45 and told me my lump is malignant.