Sunday, May 8, 2016

Are you ever astounded by your own schtoopidity? I have to shower with some magical 5-dollar-a-little-bottle, watery, sort-of soapy stuff for 5 days before surgery day, right? That seems manageable, no? I have a fancy college degree. Somewhere around here. 

Only on this very day-also known as Day Three-did I realize I didn't HAVE to start at my hair, get it in my right eye and work my way down. I'm not sure how I avoided getting it in my mouth from having it hang open when I realized where I was going wrong. 

Oy. 

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The Shots. 

The shots are going way better. Only twice so far, have we all been locking the front door going out in the morning when one of us realizes we forgot. And then you gotta run right back in and get it done super fast. High drama eliminator. 

That is not to say, that when it rolls around to 8:25 PM just when the world is winding down and getting toasty and there is no chance of anything being dappled by the sun, and P says, You ready for your shot? that I am leaping with joy and anticipation. Uh-uh. But he's getting really, really good at giving them and I just read in a book* that lightly pinching the area helps a lot. I also find making the cringe face beforehand is very beneficial. 

(Speaking of my face, two people have come up to me and told me my face looks a lot better. #ummmthanksIguess.) 

Our neighbor, who has developed some expertise in this getting shots arena also suggested not rubbing the area after the shot has gone in-to eliminate a big purple spot on your belly which has been replaced by saying: Oww Owww s!@# and then all returns to being swell with the universe, generally speaking. 

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The Book*


Finally, finally, finally a book I can recommend. Planet Cancer. Gawd fahbid you evah need a book like this but if you do, this is the best one so far. 

The yu-mah is a little iffy and it's geared toward people who are under 40 but I like how people shared their stuff and I liked that they showed people who-shall we say-finished their journeys-too fast. All part of the game. Duh.

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The Employee Assistance Program Call

I was going to add a photo of the xerox that we've all become familiar with-it's usually in your new job welcome folder, right?  But I just read the fine print where it says if I share the access code-it'd put the companies contract in jeopardy. Ho-no. That's not gonna come from me. 

Use your imagination, won't you? It's grey. It's got a little flag thing on the upper right. You remember. 


What I can say is this: This is a call I did not want to make. Along the lines of, the first step is admitting you have a problem? One of my first bosses taught us: don't shit where you eat. He also walked with two metal canes and he could never catch us misbehaving because the canes clinked when we walked and he was slow so that game us plenty of time to stop goofing around. 

Mostly. 

You get connected to a cheerful sounding person("experienced master's-degreed clinicians")who is there to help. They can hook you up with a mental health professional, a financial counselor, they have care resources, legal resources and what they do is called "facilitate the referral". 

Everything sounded kinda lovely and nice except-it's all very, very short term and I feel like, if I need a mental health professional? I'm gonna need more than three visits, right? And then we'd have to break up and start over and truthfully my head is doing relatively well-in my opinion. It's my checkbook balance that needs therapy. So, I bounced my sorry ass back to my insurance company and went digging for an actual social worker. I saw her Monday. 

My favorite nugget from the visit-we were talking about blaming yourself for getting cancer at all-and she said, what she learned from her experience working in a cancer clinic-was-it was the people who did everything right-life~wise but got diagnosed with cancer anyway-who were the most furious and inconsolable. 


So, don't forget to misbehave. Ready? Go. 






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