I know that there's got to be a blue sky out there to see

Today is what would have been my dad's 74th birthday. Happy Birthday Dad. I sure wish you were here to hold my hand.

I woke today to absolutely clear blue skies.

When I'm laying on the table for the bone scan, there's a photo taped to the ceiling of a blue sky with sparse white clouds.

Winding back the hands of time...

The day started out fine, except I started having a panic attack upon entrance to the hospital. I quickly swallowed a Xanax and went on my way. They make you drink what amounts to liquid chalk before these things, so I drank one of two in the car, and promptly got an upset stomach, which resulted in diarrhea. All I could think is damn, this is the easy part, and I'm already falling apart.

The tests were basically easy. Bone scan, CT Scan of chest, abdomen and pelvis, and an EKG.

The results may not be as easy to bear. All this is to determine if the cancer has spread.

No more will be known until April 4.

I've come to a strange calm. There's no escaping I have this disease. It's there and it ain't goin' away without some help. The thoughts keep creeping in like did I do this to myself? Smoking? Eating way too much soy? Not having a mammo until now? All that aside, I have it. But I can absolutely live with having it in my breast, then being tested all the time, and taking meds. Hell, I've been taking meds hand over fists for my back for years now.

I admire the hell out of Elizabeth Edwards. What a brave, upbeat, incredibly inspiring individual. Same goes for Lynn Gross, the mom of my good friend and also a survivor. And Geralyn Lucas. Geez, I felt like a 4 yr old when I was told, crying, unable to breathe, then feeling sorry for myself. But these women are so brave in the face of adversity, it just makes you awe struck.

My husband doesn't seem to want to say much. I've asked, but he says he wants to wait till we know the whole picture. All I'm thinking of is ways to make it OK for him and my mom if the absolute worst happens. I'm wondering how he will feel about a bald, boobless wife.

I'm thinking about my musical hero, Paul McCartney and his wife Linda, who died of breast cancer.

I'm thinking of Sheryl Crow, a survivor, Lynn Redgrave, a survivor, Olivia Newton-John, a survivor. And that's all I want to be.

A wife, a daughter, a proud mommy to a beautiful cat, a friend, a homeowner of a rustic home in Lake George, but most of all, a survivor.