Wednesday, January 20, 2016

The First Time

I cannot believe that we got our sorry asses to the Y on Tuesday. Nobody feels good around these parts lately. I'm still-it seems-shaking off the hideous prednisone and we shared a wicked cold and after having taken so much time off-one day I went to email in that I was not coming to work and I just couldn't do it. 


I was past the worst part of the cold and P-I found him sleeping face down on the couch-his evening a victim of Nyquil. And I slept crazy-thinking, okay, maybe we can switch to the evening sessions-what was I thinking-eight o'clock in the morning in Berwyn and maybe: We Just Shouldn't Go. 

But it was six in the AM that I heard coffee pot rustling and I thought hey wow, I think we're actually going. 

Both bundled up in the car headed south on Oak Park Ave. We hoped we'd get a parking spot but it was one of those ice cold mornings so I guess nobody else wanted to get up either  so it wasn't a thing. We went in, got lectured by the keeper of the turnstile-is it my age or the events of the last year-when someone is wagging their finger at me I just kinda look at them. It has absolutely no effect on me. Effect. Affect. I still have this stupid cold. 

Our leader sees us shoving our giant wraps into a hall locker. (Isn't it cool to be this age and just know you already have a padlock in your junk drawer.) Do we think we can find our way to the spin room? Umm yes. 

We enter the room, there's a round table with some Livestrong stuff on it. Our class consists of a smiling youngish woman, a friendly Hispanic couple probably in their late 60's, an Oak Park couple-he looks a little bit familiar but not really-they're also probably in their 60's and the Hispanic woman says she probably won't be coming because she has to work. There is the exchanging of names and I don't even bother because I'm terrible at that game. P-of course will remember everyone-that's the way he rolls. 

The OP woman mentions her hair. Or that she recognizes the hairstyle of the young girl across the table. They both has very short, dark brown hair that seems to be growing willy nilly. And then it turns to me and that I didn't have to have chemo and how lucky I am-and I remember the words of that nurse-who told me: Don't ever feel guilty for having a positive outcome. And I think, oh. THIS is what she was taking about. Well, personally and quite frankly, this very morning, I have the hair of a Wizzlebeast so I'm not really buying into any of that noise. I think it's rude. And it's early. And who cares. 

This session is all getting-to-know-you ice breaker sort of things.  We have to introduce ourselves with our name, our favorite dessert and an interesting factoid about ourselves. P's is that he hitchhiked along the coast of Norway. Mine is that I can touch my tongue to my nose. No wonder we get along so well. 

We order our shirts.  The "Survivor" one is free, the "Supporter" one is 10 bucks. I say to P-I'll get one for you. Hey-once someone assists in bringing you back from the dead, the sky's the limit, no? We also got those rubber bracelets. They had size XXXL or some XXS. That sorta sums up the YMCA, doesn't it? I tried an XXS. I could get it over my wrist safely but I kept yanking on it all day and for me that's not a good thing so, ya know, whatever. 

After all this (actual)time-killing chat, the front desk opened and we all went downstairs to get our IDs taken. Some people in the group were going to do some working out-or maybe walking the track right after that but we had Things To Do, so we were putting our giant coats on and the woman from the Oak Park couple sidles up to me and say, so, what kinda cancer did YOU have? 


It's not the first time in Cancertown that I felt that kinda like: hey, get the f away from me with your intrusive questions-I am trying to put my coat on-because usually I am so totally willing to discuss whatever anyone needs to know-SO I CAN ASSIST THEM. Like you wanna know what a colonoscopy is like? Ask me. You wanna see my scar? It'll cost you a dollar but I'll show ya fer sher. But do you know that word: cloying? Too sweet, pleasant or emotional. This was that and I didn't like it. 

I suspect I'll be learning something huge by watching that woman. 

Tomorrow-lawd willing-is the assessment. Balance, flexibility, strength and something else-I can't remember. Hopefully it's swear wording. I'm good at that. 

We drove past The Oak Park Bakery on our way home. P says, okay ONLY if there's a clear parking space will we go in there and I laugh to myself because I play those games too. Lucky thing it's jammed. Maybe we'll have to drive home a different way. 

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