Heeba Storytelling

Drumroll (very quiet one) please. I suppose this would be my first official speaking gig as a writer. Does that even mean anything? I have not a clue as to what my piece will be about—my run in with the Bermudian police the morning after my 30th birthday and the subsequent walk of shame on a two-lane highway back to our bungalow at the five-star resort? Dosing mom with Klonopin? Attempting to dose dad with pot brownies? Dropping ex-beau off at the Miami bus station and never looking back? Crazy Ass Nicole's 4 a.m. disappearing act?

This breast oncol on the Today Show just now said that 20 percent of Breast Ca is found by self exams, as mine was. You all may remember that I began to feel the lump less than a month after my yearly gyno exam. Gah.

I'm leaving tomorrow for Jax until Sunday, when mom and Walls and I drive back here for the final Nip Surg on Monday. Dana and the nuggets will be in town, so I'll get to teach them some new four letter words. In the interim, before my 4 p.m. flight tomorrow I am: going to my primary doc for a pre-op exam today in Aventura; rushing back to the beach to try to get to the massive Obama rally downtown; packing for a cooler climate; making sure all my paperwork and hospital stuff is in order; cleaning so apt is presentable for mom and Wally; squeezing in acupuncture and as much gym time as I can get so as to rid myself of my chemo-baby belly. Does that sound like a lot only to me?

Oh, for fuck's sake, I'm going to the gym. Again.