Brett who?

Ladies and gentlemen, the Brett has left the building.

Surgery went surgeriffic, and better yet,

right before surgery the genetic goddess Hallee gave the word..

of the top 8 genetic mutations for breast cancer, I have none.

Not one. Zip. Zero. Nada. Goose egg.  

That's not all of the tests, but that's 1 for the Booby Brigade column. 

So a bit sore, bit tired and relieved AF.

Will know margins and lymph status sometime this. 

Until then, rest, amazing food, good tv, bad tv,

good books and profanity filled coloring books. 

Oh, and keeping up with the other asshat Brett.

Let's get rid of that one, too. 

And in case you were wondering about surgery day fashion. 

I was very comfortable. Track pants, wool socks and sparkle clogs.

Or as my mom would say, "you look like bennie off the pickle boat"

Love, Ginnie

PS: fuck cancer