If you must know-and you must know-Number One, I've never gotten to use the phrase 'If you must know" before, so I'm going for it.
I do want you to know, when we were sneakily placing 'Parking Salutations Bureau!' envelopes on people's cars parked in front of the Cancer Center-or actually just before-I want you to know, I did run in and re-donate that minty green flower with a pearl in the center chemo cap.
I cannot risk the negative energy sucking what's left of my life-force.
And the lady behind the desk, she said,"Oh that is buh-yew-duh-full. It won't be here for very long." and I set it into the basket of hideous caps and ran for my life.
Trouble in Paradise
(Sounds very Clutch Cargo, no?)
It feels majorly wrong and a half o rama-along the lines of displaying one's filthy laundry in public-but if this blog is to be anywhere near authentic-I have to report that relationship-wise-not everything is perfect in post-cancer land.
I have this crazy feeling it's a stage (And maybe not even a bad stage exactly -you know how after you have an argument-everyone feels that little bit better?). But it's hot out and there are way too many things to do and crazy hours to be working and money is a thing and maybe we have to move to get away away from my nemesis before I pull every g/d geranium from the courtyard and fling them into the street and maybe I just might be a completely different person or maybe I'm just trying to wrestle my groove back. I dunno.
We cannot discuss the election. On this we both agree.
It's a start.
I've changed my methodology from years past. Before, I'd have a class time I'd have to appear for and if it looked like I might miss it-I'd miss it and eventually off I'd go on the slippery slope of never going back to the gym.
Now, I have agreed to be there twice a week (or more) but I'm working around my schedule. So, if I have to trick myself into going while I'm out doing something else-I go and do what I'm supposed to be doing on my own time frame.
It sounds sort of ridiculous, but you get there how you get there. I no longer carry a whole buncha stuff-like I used to. I say things like,"Who gives a s!@# what I look like?". I just go and come home sweaty. Who cares, right?
P gave me some glorious advice. He's actually had to give it to me over and over and over. He says: Don't WORRY about what everyone else is doing or who is watching you. Just focus on yourself.
It's too long for a mantra but I carry it with me because I need it.
I seem to seriously crank on the 2 different bikes I get to ride when The Donald appears on the screen. I can't even explain that.
The same day I figured that out, I was leaving the parking lot and somebody's bumpersticker said #Hillyes.
I loaned P my phone yesterday so he could take a photo of the Veteran's Discussion Group thing he's involved with and there was a 'call us at your earliest convinence' message on it when he handed it back. Just for story purposes-I actually didn't know which Department was calling-as I have applied for financial aid and have heard nothing.
I googled the number early this morning and up popped this:
Isn't that a fine how-do-you-do?
So, ya know, the day had a bit of a*hmm how shall I put it* bit 'o psychological terror* to it. (Two loved ones attempted to throw the 'It's probably nothing' card and for that I applaud them even if it was never going to work.) Finally this afternoon, I got connected to a mammography tech-not the one who called me initially-she called and took off on vacation-this is someone else unfamiliar with my brand of nonsense and I waited as she read the details from my file.
It is an alarming thing to wait through that sort of a thing. Try and avoid it, won't you?
Seems as if I need more imaging. Also I need to bring in a copy of my last mammogram-WHICH I ALREADY BROUGHT IN LAST WEEK..oops sorry, but Come ON people. And now that it's been pointed out-it seems as if the doctor actually has to read said former mammo, compare the two and they'll be giving me a call sometime tomorrow to let me know if it's just 'need more images' or 'see you back here next year'.
For fuck sake.
*Thanks Stephanie for a better phrase.