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Today my roommate goes in for the scans that will tell us whether or not the chemotherapy is working, whether the tumor is shrinking.  If it is, if the tumor is getting smaller, then they’ll continue the chemo for another month or two, and hopefully then do the operation.  If it isn’t, well, I don’t know what we’ll do.  I had thought that if they couldn’t operate back in January that we didn’t have a Plan B, but then they said they would do chemo anyway.  So maybe there’s a Plan C to this Plan B that I don’t know about?  I don’t really want to have to find out.  Chemo is bad enough as it is.  I can’t imagine what the next thing would be.

Valentine’s Day was nice, even if rather low key.  Almost no one was at work for me to give valentines to.  I finally mailed out my valentines to my sisters, so they’ll get them late, but at least they’ll get them.  I think KJ is the only one who actually got her valentine on time.  I passed them out to everyone at my Contemporary Theologians class (Me: “You have your choice between sparkle disco ball Hello Kitty, pink foil Hello Kitty, or your choice of Disney Princess.  And you have to choose.”) and to everyone at swing.  I didn’t get very many valentines this year, but that’s ok.  Last year was enough.

14 will be home on Monday.  He comes in to the airport about one in the afternoon.  Unfortunately, that’s right when I have to be at work.  Sigh.

Here’s something interesting.  Last night I went to the library to do research instead of going to Balboa Thursdays. (Me choosing school over dancing?  Wow!  I must be desperate to get things done.  Or discouraged about my dancing.  Or both.)  After a certain time at night, it seemed like I and the security guard were the only women left in the building.  Or at least in the first floor reference section.  Not that there were all that many people in Roesch at midnight or so.  Perhaps there was a memo I didn’t get telling ladies to avoid the reference section after a certain time at night?

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