Signs of Spring

It's March, and in the South that means spring is here (again, I say this with apologies to friends who live in areas of the country where there is still snow on the ground). Everywhere I look there are buds, blooms and grass slowly returning to green.  Except for ours.  Our grass is still dormant, and any green peeking through is actually a weed on which Aaron has declared war.  I've actually heard him talking to the weeds when we are walking through the back yard:  "Just wait.  I've got a new bottle of weed killer.  You're gonna get it this weekend!"  It's his first spring as a home (and yard) owner, and he's taking it quite seriously.

Blooms from our front yard

Other signs of growth abound, too!  I'm most excited about the tiny hairs that are starting to sprout on my lash line.  They certainly aren't long enough to hold any mascara, but they are there and they are growing, and they are a sign of what is to come.  I obsessively check on them every day with my 10x magnifying makeup mirror and I make Aaron look at them as well: 
"Look, baby!  My tiny eyelashes are even longer today!" 
"Yes, Joycie, I see them."
"But look, they're longer than yesterday!"
"I trust you."

He's never quite as excited about them as I am for some reason.  Also, I was sitting in the sun the other day when I looked down and thought that my eyes were deceiving me.  There was baby fine hair on my legs.  It was so fine that I couldn't even feel it, and so blond that I really had to be in the sun to see it, but it was there.  I had been bragging to everyone who would listen that I had silky smooth legs minus the shaving.  It was the only good thing about chemo.  Three days ago I picked up a razor for the first time since October, and I did so happily.  It seems there is something about this ritual in the shower that I missed, something that made me feel very feminine.  And now I have it again.  I'm sure I'll be complaining about shaving again in a month, but today it makes me happy.

And there is a bit more peach fuzz on top of my head these days.  It is very, very soft, fine, and blond/white.  It is also very sparse.  When I look in the mirror, I am definitely still a bald person.  However, when sitting on the couch with Aaron, I always catch him staring at the top of my head.  "I swear your hair is getting longer," he'll say.  I guess he is more excited about the prospect of having a wife with hair on her head than her lash line.

Finally, it seems I forgot to mention one *tiny* detail in my previous post.  My surgery has been moved up one week, which means I am set for surgery this coming Wednesday, March 16.  My oncologist said that 6 weeks after my last chemo infusion would be the optimal time for surgery, so that's what we're going with!  I am tempted to lie and say that I am feeling very brave and not worried at all about the loss of boobs/pain/recovery time/surgical drains/etc...  But the truth is I'm kind of freaking out.  It's not that I think anything will go wrong; I know everything will be fine.  As I've said before, I have complete faith in my surgeons.  It's just that the anticipation is killing me!  Yes, cancer can't kill me, but anticipation just might.  I want to get this over with.  Luckily, mom-in-law will be here Sunday evening to distract me during the final days before I roll into the operating room.  She has informed me that she's bringing with her an army of recipes sure to make me whole again, so to speak.  Sounds like I won't be eating much hospital food after all, thank God!