What a Week

The party was over the top this year, not for the numbers, but for the guests. Alicia Miranda surprised me by escorting Winston Byrd! What a hoot!

It must have been a really good party because I was in such intent pain the next day, and the next!

But we also found out that cousin Doug was taken to the ER at Lourdes. He'd been having trouble -- paralysis in his throat and vocal cords. It's been pretty bad.

And the next day we learned that my brother Gregg's ex-wife had a severe stroke and was on life support, awaiting the family to gather and pull the plug. So tough.

New Year's Eve, Buddy invited me along to a complimentary NYE fireworks party on Penn's Landing, from 5-6:30. So much fun!

And NYD Jack and I went to Artie and Audrey's "Tablecloth Party" -- they throw just the best dinner for BSGK friends.


But the New Year got off to a bad start when I met with my plastic surgeon, Dr. Butler, who basically told me I was too fat to have a TRAM flap, and too old to bother with breast implants that would probably need replacement in 10 years, and who wants surgery when you're 75? I've been so upset since yesterday I can barely put two thoughts together.

People are suggesting I get a second opinion, but I wouldn't know where to go. Penn Medicine is supposed to be the best.

Anyway, that's been my week, and as I type this, the Christmas tree just fell over.