Alright ... It's still a little funny.

You can't be depressed forever. Believe me, I tried. I actually decided before the hysterectomy that I would be depressed afterward. I resolved not to leave my bedroom, no less the house. I planned to pull the blinds shut and stay in my pajamas for a week shunning phone calls, visitors and well wishes.

The only thing I actually followed through on was the pj's. If you have the opportunity to spend all day in your pajamas - you should take it. Plus, my belly was too sore for any of my other pants (which are too tight regardless of abdomenal surgery, but bloating and post-surgery pain are a great excuse for wearing elastic waistbands for days.)

I received tons and tons of calls, texts and get-well cards. Plus, the florist just kept making a loop to my house. If I had followed through with "Be Depressed" plan, I would have missed out on two different Cookie Bouquets - one full of cosmo-shaped cookies and another that said, "Beat Cancer ... and Jaan." (You'll have to ask Joe Mitton what that means. It's one of our best stories!) Even if I HAD been successful at Depression Plan, a sugar cookie covered in a fun sugar design, topped with a funny phrase would have snapped me out of it.

Thank goodness one group of caregivers dropped off it's latest and greatest creation before surgery ... because it hurt so bad to laugh afterward. And all Chris and I did was laugh when we saw this:

You can't get anything passed my dogs. That's not too say that a robber couldn't walk right into my house and walk right out with the TV. It's just that Tweedle-Dee (Barlie) and Tweedle-Dumb (Molly) would bark their heads off the whole time. So when the girls went crazy a few days before the surgery, I knew someone was at the door. Because I live only in pj's, I didn't have a bra on. It is socially unacceptable to answer the door without a bra on. (Someone should mention this fact to half of the people I interview.) It takes me a second or two to get a sweatshirt and pull it on, therefore putting an extra layer of clothing between my guest and my nipples. By the time I make it to the door, there's no one there. Weird. Chris is at this same time driving up the driveway. He gets out of the car and says matter of factly: someone was just running across the yard. Before I have a chance to panic and make sure the TV is still there, we find what's been left behind. It's from my Guardian Groundhogs ... and it's hysterical.

It reads: (in half perfect elementary school teacher print and half candy goodness)

Dear Meredith,
We wanted to take a "mentos" to say that we are thinking of you, you "Hot Tamales", as you face this part of your journey on the road to "Heath" and well being. We are sending you "Extra" prayers and "100 Grand" worth of well wishes. If you "Orbit" the entire "Milky Way" you would not find a more caring bunch of ...

"Goobers" than us, (my favorite one, by the way!) your guardian groundhog and his "3 Musketeers." In the coming (Hershey's) "Dark" days, don't just "Rolo" over and take it. We want you to "Kit-Kat" this disease in the ass! Your "Payday" of "Mr. Goodbar" health will come soon enough. Your trusted doctors will pull out all their "Twix", hopefully without "Butterfingers," to help you ...

"Skor" against this monster. Meredith - 1, Winner! Cancer  - 0. But until then "Take 5" and know that we are ready to celebrate with plenty of "Hugs" and "Kisses"!
Love, The Guardian Groundhog et al. (and the Cirque De Soliel Entertainers)
P.S. - I hope we made you "Snickers"!

Well, Snickers we did. What fun and creativity. What time and effort. And Mission Accomplished - I couldn't cry, I had to laugh. I'm so blessed to be surrounded by such love. Thank you!