The Curious Things That Excite You

A few days ago I thought I felt stubble on my legs. Not wanting to lapse into a coma of wishful thinking, I let it go....for probably 5 minutes before I felt again and wasn't so sure.
Well, today I could successfully run a stocking up my leg and cause snags. Not much of a cause for celebration amongst most women but for me it was worthy of shaking up a champagne bottle and spraying the pit crew.
Everyone says that your hair will grow back, and a few select morons suggest that it might grow back curly. (Why would I want it to grow back curly? I don't know what to do with curly. I just want my regular hair back), but there is always that irrational fear that it doesn't.
Well whoo the fucking hoo all over me because I have stubble baby !!!
I might mention a mole on my chin that used to sprout an occasional hair, and the fact that the occasional hair has become not so occasional......but that would make me seem decidedly unattractive,,,so I won't mention it. Show me a cancer survivor who wants to appear unattractive and I will show you a clown who wants to sit alone in the back seat of a stretch limo.
I am currently, and perhaps obsessively feeling for eyelashes and I think I actually detect a slight flurry of activity. I will check again in 5 minutes, but pit crew.....stand back, we could be going for a bucket of Gator Aid.

The Birthday Frog

So, today was my birthday. It did not begin with a bang (yes I am resorting to sexual double entendre), nor did it end with a whimper ( oops I did it again ), but it did start with a frog.
As I sat on a step in the backyard, a frog decided to come and sit beside me. It took him several attempts to scale the step but he was resolute that frog. He made it on the fourth attempt and after hanging by one little frog hand and causing me to wonder if I should give him a boost. Realizing that he might take my hand around his legs as a sure sign of imminent dismemberment....I left him to his own determination. Determined he was and, after finally securing his position next to me, he sat blinking at me with an intensity that made me wonder if I had a bug on my forehead that his laser-whip frog tongue would soon consume. But no, he apparently just felt sociable.

So, it was my birthday, and it was really just another day but hey.......a frog thought I was pretty damn approachable. Things are looking up.

Now What ?

So.......the joys of chemotherapy have come to an end. The input valve in my arm has been unceremoniously whipped out and my head is starting to sprout a degree of fuzz that feels like an asian crew cut. Yes, it is reason to celebrate ( I will dance alone to "Harlem" as soon as my legs promise not to buckle ) but the ugly, nagging question in this venue has to be, "What the hell am I going to complain about now?"
Soon my sense of taste will return and make note that I plan on eating my way through every epicurean delight available. So perhaps I can soon complain about being fat.
Soon it will be summer and while the little orange bikini is quite out of the question, perhaps I can complain about having no eyebrows to prevent sweat from trickling into my eyes.

Dating again ?  Well it is an infinite well of absurdity but who is going to want a fat girl with a blonde asian crew cut ?

Who knows ?   Something will come up......it always does.

The Roller Coaster Ride is Almost Over

I have documented chemotherapy in the most jocular light that might, in some disturbed circles be deemed as acceptable. Truth is.....there are some down sides. No....gasp.....really ??
Sure there is all kinds of physical crap, just don't ask me about my perpetually dry nose and my constantly watering eyes.....I mean, do they talk to each other ?? Don't ask me how smug I was over not losing my eyelashes.....until I tried to put on mascara and there they were.....gone.

The physical stuff is a pain in the ass. The emotional stuff rips you apart. The mood swings make you seem like a post office worker with mommy issues.

Some can handle it.....some can't. Add another "can't" to the list but let me now praise those who can.

Always guaranteed to put an Elvis smile on my face, always guaranteed to put me back on planet dumbass....just by being the lovable jerk that you are p.

Always a "good morning", always an inappropriate lustful thought, and even though you come and you go....there is always a lustful thought in return Herr S.

So sweet that you hurt my teeth. You stayed with me. Not a negotiable road, but you were always there g.

Did I mention that my eyes water uncontrollably ? It's just the sun. Even though it is 1 a:m. Chemo messes with your internal time clock........really !!!

The Sweetest Words You'll Ever Hear

"Essentially, your cured."

                 -Dr. Dixon, Oncologist
                  April 17, 2015

Chemo-Brain is Catching

A conversation held between me and my mother, Tues, April 7.


mom   -  There's a man coming to clean the furnace tomorrow
me      -   I saw the reminder. It says Wednesday.
mom  -   Yes, Wednesday.
me     -   You said tomorrow.
mom  -   Yes, tomorrow.
me     -    Isn't it Wednesday today ?
mom  -   No, tomorrow.
me     -   Then what day is it today ?
mom  -   Isn't it Tuesday ?
me     -   I don't know. Is it ?
mom  -  Yes, it is Tuesday today.
me     -  Are you sure ?
mom -   Yes, it is Tuesday.
me    -   So the furnace guy is coming tomorrow ?
mom -   Yes, tomorrow.

DOORBELL RINGS

mom -   That must be the guy to clean the furnace.

                                       

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Little Jen at LCBO

Not that I frequent my local LCBO all that much.....ok, yeah I do, but in my defense it's only wine and I do have a great joke about Domain D'or ( it's right dere).
It's a little LCBO and must admit that I do know the names of most of the employees. They don't know my name, but they sure as hell know my face. I guess it registered that, lately I have been wearing hats a lot and, knowing how much they gossip.....they will gladly identify every drunk in town.... there has clearly been speculation about my mortality.

Little cashier Jen.....mousy, gimpy, cross eyed Jen asked me today if I was ok. So...ok the store was empty and, given the well known side effect of chemo-babble.....I told little Jen in 2,000 words or less, that I was fine. Well didn't little Jen just grab my hand, look at me with a limpid, cross eyed gaze and tell me that she had been worried about me and was so glad to hear that I was ok.

Ever cry at LCBO ? And not because you screeched into the parking lot 2 minutes after they closed ?

It seems that the concern you get, at times, comes from people you barely know. It's sweet, but it's bittersweet. Cancer is lonely. It separates you. I guess people think you might be contagious.....dumbasses !!

Ok, if you threw me into a swimming pool I would likely rotate to the right in endless circles but I can still form rudimentary sentences, I can still choose the correct fork for salad and I can still dance like a stripper on quaaludes. But who would know ?

I fear becoming Miss Havisham......there are enough fucking cobwebs around me to substantiate that concern, but let's make it clear that there is no wedding dress involved....just a well worn pair of yoga pants and a sweater that accommodates the arm penis.

Yes, this was a rant. Come on dudes....I'm entitled. And I was at LCBO today.

Little Jen.....you will forever be employee of the month.