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The Carthage Press
Finding the good in every day
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About this blog
By Molly Logan Anderson
I’m Molly Logan Anderson, author of Grab the Good and seasoned freelance writer. As a happy mom and wife, sometimes I feel like the luckiest woman alive. But, like pretty much everyone I know, I often get pushed the brink of insanity thanks to the ...
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Living Well
I’m Molly Logan Anderson, author of Grab the Good and seasoned freelance writer. As a happy mom and wife, sometimes I feel like the luckiest woman alive. But, like pretty much everyone I know, I often get pushed the brink of insanity thanks to the reality of every day life. Being blessed with so much while also dealing with the inevitable challenges we all face has resulted in an ultimate goal: to grab the good. Finding the good in every day; in the tiny moments of life that sometimes go unnoticed, keeps us grounded and loving what we have. It’s my hope to help you grab the good, too, through personal insights, heartwarming moments and lots of laughter. The experts will even stop by and weigh in from time to time. While Grab the Good (formerly Butterflies and Mud Pies) is my most cherished personal work and shares lots of snippets from our everyday, you’ll also find my national column running weekly through the GateHouse News Service. I write for a myriad of other publications, as well as many commercial clients, delivering research-based journalism, video columns and all types of commercial copywriting. Simply put, I love to write and to talk about topics for which I, or my clients, have a passion. Beyond writing, I’m a foodie , an avid gardener, voracious reader, TV and movie enthusiast, sporadic fitness buff, coffee house music lover and a social media and marketing junkie (with big aspirations on all fronts!) More than anything, it’s my daily goal to grab the good in every day and be better, in every way, than I was yesterday. So tune in for good news on everything from good recipes to good family and good style. If it’s good, I think we should grab it. And I’ll be writing about it here.
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July 23, 2012 12:01 a.m.

The last two weeks have been a blur.  What started off as a routine mammogram; a 40th birthday present from my gynecologist, turned into an odyssey of anger, fear and extreme compartmentalization (a super power that I was unaware that I possessed, until now.)  In a moment, this control-lover had no choice but to relinquish everything to "what might be" and just move through.

I'm not squeamish about medical procedures or even overly modest, but I have to say that breast biopsies rank (in my experience) among the least tolerable.  They're not too painful, but seriously violating.  Lying half-naked on a cold table with four chatty women adjusting, groping, twisting and smashing you from below, is not my idea of fun.  I was horribly unprepared for the length of the procedure and how I'd feel afterward.  And I now have such respect for all those who have walked this path before me.  And who went on to walk it longer - through much harder terrain.

The physical discomfort of lying frozen for 90 minutes while they compressed, xray-ed, sampled and repeated, was nothing compared to how I felt once we left.  Double-tight Ace-wrapped with a hematoma and, I guess, a temporarily half-broken heart, I cried most of the way home, unable to share with my poor husband why I was even crying.  I'm not a crier and I suppose that made the whole thing even worse for him.  But I had been storing up all my "what if's?" and "how will I's?" for two whole weeks while looking into the eyes of my children.  Every time I felt happy, which was often, I immediately went to a different place and then, thankfully, I was able to sweep the fear away.  When I needed it most, my ability to set it aside and wait without surface worry kicked in with a vengeance.  Who knew I could do that?

I don't mean that I didn't have a few sleepless nights or dark moments, I did.  I've had my share of issues health-wise this year and I'll admit that I felt some serious self-pity.  But I survived it like we all do. We do because we must.  And because we can.

And now I feel like I've won the lottery.  Standing from atop Relief Mountain, I'm too aware that I could be in Victim Valley, if one microscopic cell was different on a slide.  I am grateful beyond words that what I feared is not the path I need to travel.    I've been given the gift of love and support from those who knew what was going on, and I'm so thankful for that, too.  "Thank you" doesn't even come close to conveying how I feel.

All that's left to do is move on and live this precious, blessed life to the fullest.  Let's get going!



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