The pathology report arrived yesterday. The essential translation from medical jargon is as follows:

“That’s cancer. On the left. Teeny. Only 7mm! Smaller than a pencil eraser, or one of those weeny one dot legos. Invasive and dividing like crazy, but hasn’t gotten anywhere important yet. No cancer on the right. Nice set.”

(The last part is obviously fabricated. Doctors say “specimen.”) This is all fantastic news… except for the invasive cancer part. But I’m two haircuts beyond that now. Today I met with Adam and Maria, my beauticians, and I’m one drain lighter with one of those “let’s see” doctor promises to be free of external plastic appliances by the weekend. I look and feel so normal it would have been ridiculous not go to Bloomingdale’s.

My husband won’t admit it, but he is really very good at shopping: spotting the deal, knowing quality fabrics, and willing to buy just about anything that looks pretty on me. And today, he did all of this while holding my purse. Honestly, going to the mall was Bernie’s idea. It’s Chinese New Year. In addition to giving small children red envelopes of cash, everyone is supposed to get new clothes. Brodie, my little dandy, was thrilled with his take from Brooks Brothers… Teddy, my more typical child, was not so jazzed about cords as a “gift.” Happy Year of the Dragon, my friends.

This was a better day all around. However, in spite of your assurances that I needn’t feel any guilt, and as useless as it is, this emotion is more insidious than water in a New England basement. If I’m well enough to shop, then I should get home in time to pick up my kids from the bus! I don’t know who this voice belongs to, but I’m working on shutting it up. I did, in fact, feel well enough to spend lots of time with the boys tonight. Things were SO normal around here, they nearly drove me to exchange my green tea for something, anything better than &@#*$ green tea. Sensing mom was OK, both of of the boys tried to see if the usual rules still apply. They do. Tears followed. It was annoying, irritating, and beautifully normal.