And here I thought I'd be all psyched for some time during the week while the weather is sunny and warm. Instead, I find myself hit with anxiety, lacking answers or any real direction.

Maybe the hospital bills have something to do with it. I'm doing okay financially, and of course the insurance is handling the bulk of the costs of the biopsy, but yeah, the reality of those 'unexpected' costs is getting to me at the core level. And yeah, I'm getting my money's worth out of the insurance -- without it, the whole process apparently would have cost me over $10,000 -- but it does lead me to wonder how much I'd end up paying per month once the COBRA runs out, now that I have this nice little incident on my permanent record.

So what is it that I'm supposed to do? The more I mull through the whole touring/ranger/know-it-all career concept, the more I realize it's not financially workable for me. When I stand back and view it objectively, I totally understand why. Who puts that much value on learning about arcane things from someone who can spin a good story? I mean, it would work if Richard Branson wanted someone on staff to research his personal whims and tell him all about them, but how likely is that? I've learned a heck of a lot hanging around my pal in Princeton, and while she's really making a name for herself locally, she ain't gettin' rich off it. She is, though, seeming to have a lot of fun.

Everything's telling me that what I'm doing now is a fantastic post-retirement avocation, and there's nothing wrong with that, but how am I gonna make money? More immediately, how am I going to get myself back on a productive path?

What have I learned about myself?

• I do like telling stories.
• When I'm on, I'm really on... and I love getting positive feedback in the form of laughter, smiles and engaged conversation about the topic I'm covering.
• I like having latitude and being my own boss.
• I'm not really big on being told what to do by people who boss me around. I'd rather be a partner than an employee. (I'd use the word 'collaborator' but ever since a European pointed out the negative connotations of the word, I've been cautious about labeling myself that way.)
• I'm not all that motivated. When things fall into my lap, I'll go for them, but do I go looking for them? Not really.

This puts me squarely where I was: being unhappy with the prospect of a corporate environment, but in a position where I half anticipate having my next opportunity presented to me. Somehow the prospect of being stuck in an unhappy situation a year from now, regretting that I didn't make a real leap forward, isn't enough of a motivator to get off my ass and do something truly scary.

One would wonder why I'm not seeking some sort of accountability to get me moving. On occasion I've considered talking with a coach to get me working on some concrete goals. (I guess one could say I have accomplished some things by doing what I have with the tour stuff, but I think I've been resting on that for far too long, like an eight-year-old who keeps pointing to the fact she can tie her shoes.) BUT that would then require me to face a lot of tough things, and do stuff I don't really like doing, right? Maybe I'd actually not do so well on a few things, to boot. And isn't the point of this to just drift along without conflict? And to get all philosophical without having to actually do anything?

Uh, yeah, and how's that working for you?

I do this a lot in my life: drift, then get frustrated and build up enough moxie to move forward. The big problem here is that I'm not challenging myself. I'm just hanging out on an extended vacation, and feeling vaguely guilty about it.

The recheck

Went for my biopsy follow up on Monday and thankfully got to see the doctor though it's generally a surgery day for her. We took a look at the incision site, which appears to be healing okay, though each end seems a little 'hard' and raised from the middle. In a few days I can start using the scar-reducing cream on it, which hopefully will work well, though I understand it takes some time to do its magic.

Anyway, got the pathology report and the ok from the doc to go back to annual mammograms. All in all, it was pretty much what we expected: little calcifications that weren't very likely to turn into anything concerning.

Now I just want the damn scar to go away. As it is, the top of my breast looks as if I was cleanly stabbed with a penknife. Hmm... maybe I can conjure up a good story to go along with it.

Like the wallpaper? Let me tell you about the servants' wing.

Another day at Edison National Historic Park, another day at Glenmont.

If I didn't know better, I'd think I was being pigeonholed, even just a little. When I arrived at the Park to volunteer yesterday, the head of interpretation told me they'd like me to hang out at the house for the day. Fine, cool. No problem.

When I was up there a couple of weeks ago, I dipped my toe in the water and gave the patter for part of the tour. A large group was booked, and the rangers decided we'd all take one portion of the house, stay there and explain as the group filed through, then shuttle them to the next ranger. It worked out pretty well: I took the servants' wing, which is really the easiest part of the whole thing (not a lot of tchotchkes to explain). Basically, you just stand there and talk a bit about the kitchen, laundry room and servants' dayroom. The weirdest thing is the interlocking dreadnought linoleum tile, which always catches the attention of at least one person in the group.

This time around, the more senior-level ranger I'd be with asked how much of the tour I'd be comfortable doing on my own. Given that it's hard to come in cold, not having been there in two weeks, I asked to get grounded by backing up the first one, and then I'd take parts of the next few. And that's the way it went. On the first tour, I explained the servants' wing, and listened carefully to the ranger as she did the rest. On the next two, I took the welcome, ground rules and entry parlor to the house, plus the servants wing, and answered random questions as they came along.

I anticipated that the first few minutes would be a little awkward, as the Ellis Island patter always is, but once I covered the ground rules, everything was fine. Once you get into the house, there are so many visual cues that it's not hard to keep the dialog running pretty well.

While I'd give myself a solid B for output, the rangers were very complimentary, told me I sounded really professional and didn't make too many errors. Even the conservator, who knows the house better than I know my own, said she was impressed. So... it looks as if I may be ready for prime time.

The great part, too, was that one of the rangers took me aside to point out a few more things and give me some guidance on how to address some of the more unusual situations that might come up during the tours. This is leading me to believe they're getting confident enough in me to put me into the rotation. They do need people up there -- most of the volunteers prefer to be at the labs -- so it's a good opportunity to get experience and get known. The park is significantly smaller than Ellis Island, and getting known by the right people could be a heck of a lot easier.

And maybe I'll get to do some crawling around the upper floors...

Geez...

I hate wearing a bra 24/7.

And the results are in...

Heard from the surgeon's physician assistant this afternoon: test results came back. The calcifications are benign. All's good with the world. I was so relieved that I didn't really ask any questions. I'll bring them all on Monday when I visit for the check on the incision.

I slept in this morning, rather than do my usual Tuesday at Ellis Island. I figured that given the rain, the drive would be awful, and I also didn't want to risk keeling over while I was giving the hospital spiel on the tour. In honesty, I feel pretty decent, so I'm sure I'd have been okay, but why take the chance?

The incision seems to be okay - maybe just a bit sore. The dressing will probably come off when I take a shower tomorrow, so I may actually get to see it.

Oh, and last night? The tube top thingy gave no support at all as I was moving about in my sleep. Put on a sports bra this morning and instantly felt securely supported. I guess I'll be wearing that for the next few days, oh joy.

The girls are back...

So the deed is done -- got the biopsy out of the way.

At the start, we thought it might be a bit easier than first supposed. The radiologist who was placing the guide wire (same doc as last time) had an inkling that the spot in question might be closer to the skin than thought earlier. Apparently that hadn't been so clear in the mammo since the compressions can make it harder to gauge depth in some areas. In any case, her supposition meant taking a whole bunch of extra mammos until they could make the determination. Turns out the spot is just beneath the skin, but I certainly didn't mind the additional work done to check it out. The smaller the 'dig,' the better. I didn't look down much, but when I did, I saw they'd marked the spot with a metal pellet the size of a BB. Kinda looked like one of those odd piercings the kids are getting these days, but smaller. They took it off when they inserted the wire, and replaced it with a piece of tape to secure the end of the wire.

The extra work made me a little late getting to the surgical area for my 9 a.m. appointment with destiny, which I was whisked to via wheelchair. (I really wanted to put the "whee!" into wheelchair, but alas, could not.) I'd been warned not to move my right side too much, because the inside end of the wire locator could easily migrate from its original spot. That made it so much fun to change into the next hospital gown and sign all of the consent forms with my right hand.

All of the nurses, techs and the anesthesiologist were super nice. For the most part, I was relaxed and not stressing over anything, even before the 'who gives a shit?' juice got shot into my drip. And the sedative took over before I even realized it was coming -- all of a sudden I was waking up and they were wheeling me to recovery. Then I was sitting up, drinking ginger ale and eating graham crackers, just like after giving blood. Oh, and they'd dressed me up in this stylin' pink floral smocked tube top with velcro in the front. For support, they say. Ah, the irony: I never wore those ridiculous things in high school, precisely because they provide no support at all. I've gotta wear something to keep the boob in place for a night or two while I'm sleeping, so I guess this will be more comfortable than a bra.

So far so good, as far as recovery. The actual incision is obscured behind a pad that's about 1.5 inches square, so I haven't seen it yet. I'm not feeling any real pain.

I go to see the surgeon's assistant on Monday for a check on the incision. Should hear something about the test results before then.

Off to save second base

Today's the big biopsy. I'm leaving for the hospital in about 45 minutes and right now I want to use the bathroom but am not doing it because they need a urine sample and I can't have anything to drink till this annoyance is over. No food or drink after midnight, in case they have to use general anesthesia.

Odd as it sounds, I took a picture of my breast this morning. Figure I'd like a shot in the event the procedure leaves a scar.

And yeah, I'm apprehensive. I just don't like the feeling of being put out. Or cut into. After all those years of joking about the Ramones song, I don't wanna be sedated. I know it's no big deal, but I just don't. And I'm not big on looking at other people's incisions, let alone my own. It's funny - when my dad's had surgery, he's been almost eager to show me the area and explain it. I never want to look. This one I don't even want to think about, however small, and it will be staring me in the face.

I'm sending a few words up to the Big Guy, and thoughts up to my grandmother. I'm getting the early warning and information she didn't have, and hoping my news is better than what she ultimately heard and experienced.

So if you get the chance, send up a few words for quick, painless and the right test results. Thanks.