One of the baby birds was out of the nest this morning. I'm not sure if it fell or the parents pushed it out because they have too many. My money's on fell. I picked it up and put it back in - and the first three times, it rolled right back out again and crashed to the bottom of the cage. The fourth time I pushed it back further and so far, it's still in there.
Now I wish I'd taken a picture but the poor little thing was so cold and mom and dad were hysterical.
The trip to Big City went okay on Tuesday. No masses felt. The pap smear results will be back in a few weeks.
One thing I realized during the exam - as the doctor was fisting my butt - was that having a gyn-oncologist with small hands is not really a good thing. His index finger is too short to reach whatever he's trying to reach so half his hand goes up there. Next time I go shopping for a gyn, I'll make sure s/he has long fingers.
On Wednesday, it suddenly hit home again - I could still die from cancer. Stage 3. More than one hopefully outdated website says I only have a 50-60% chance of being alive in five years.