Covid-I wear my mask exactly much as I need to in order to function in society. Bus, stores, if I have to approach people outside or walk with friends. Left to my own, it's off the minute I can. I've tried to believe that either I need to protect myself or be inconvenienced for the greater good. I know people have died and ventilators are horrible. No sense of risk whatsoever. (I realize this also makes me a germ-ridden pariah who is threatening herd immunity by my very existence.)
Colon Cancer-There possible family history and I'm 55 years old. I still refused to have a colonoscopy due to inconvenience and over-all grossness of the prep. I did a "poop by mail" test and haven't heard anything back from my doctor. Not going out of my way to follow up with her.
Breast Cancer. Family history. Friends.
I don't mind getting the girls getting squished once a year, as long as my insurance covers it. I was LIVID when I got dragged back to check out some "assymetry" and it turned out to be nothing and the insurance didn't cover it.
More worried about not telling anyone if it does happen because I can't imagine surgery or chemo being tolerable.
We had a heat wave and I was still outside with my arms covered, legs covered and a floppy hat.
Whatever's going to get me, it ain't gonna be melanoma. "The sun is far too sultry and one most avoid it's ultry-violet rays.
SUN....skin cancer...sunburn. That scares me.
I finally finished Good Omens-took over a year.
I finally finished the 2014 June 9/June 16 New Yorker Double Issue-Love Stories. I've been working on it since we came home. That was the middle of March. Hey, it was a double issue, lots of stories.
I can play Ode to Joy on the Harmonium, but I only learned it so I could use the tune to chant Rama Bolo.