When I thought I was dying, and I totally thought I was dying just over a year ago, I went out and bought a pretend motorcycle jacket. I didn't want to have lived a life that didn't have a leather-esque motorcycle jacket in it-even if it had to be at the very end.
And then I never really got to wear it. The weather, being so sick over and over and over, not going out, the weather again, general unorganization, forgot all about it-that kinda thing. The other day, my groovy SVA sweatshirt seemed to have become magically sprinkled in fur. Someone furry must have wanted to redirect my fashion sense across new horizons and I was on a mad dash to work and I grabbed the black jacket.
It got rave reviews from my incredibly complimentary generous co-workers(They clapped when I was finally able to wear jeans again-that's just how good they are.) and I hung the coat up on the coat rack thing and I came back about an hour later and noticed this giant gash behind one of the arms. "Did Grantley get it?" asked Leigh Ann and I thought no, it was way outta her reach and it's not her flavor. It was in one of those giant plastic Tupperware sorta storage tubs.
Did a rat rip it? I thought. Listen. In this house, EVERYTHING has happened. If you recall, there were TWENTY rats roaming in our condo(A fact that seems to have eluded our condo board as somebody has installed a plastic compost bin IN THE COURTYARD where we recently saw a rat enter a downstairs unit through a tear in a window screen. Honest to God, I will never live in a condo again. Sooner I should live under an f-ing bowling alley, ya know?) Anyway, maybe one of the rats was a tailor in a former life. Er sumpthin.
I don't know where the hole came from but I thought, okay there's some sorta message in here and it has to do with something along the lines of Life is too short or You don't use it, you lose it or Hey dumbass, wear your silly coat already, will ya? Or something like that.
I'm not going to worry about the hole. You won't either.
Fatigue: The Struggle is Real.
I didn't write that. My comedy pal who is also kicking the ass of The Cancer(as we are now referring to it) wrote that to me a long time ago. I thought it was great because here's something else they never tell you about. Ya get tired so easily.
One day-last week or two weeks ago, I plopped down on the bed, but I wasn't planning on staying, so I had both legs dangling from my knees down and I fell fast asleep-as they say in children's books-and my phone woke me and for a moment there, I didn't think I could walk. My legs were still sleeping.
Hilarity is there. You just have to find it.
So, this colon reconstruction business has left me with something known as 'reflux'. They never mentioned this in the normal life permanent vacation brochures. Reflux rhymes with sucks(or Re(-ally) Sucks) and that is No Accident. It's left me feeling like I have a part of a ping-pong ball in the back of my throat. I have to take two different pills for it-and if you enjoy the hilarity of working with me, and you see me shoving a parade of couch drops into my face, it's because I feel like I'm choking. Not really that fun, ya know?
I've been checking out cookbooks like a mad woman. I get the cancer survivor ones and the ones with titles like, Dropping Acid. It's kinda like having an electromagnet pull all of the fun out of your existence because of all the things You Suddenly Can't Have.
You think I'm kidding?
Number one is coffee. I can't have coffee. As in "Hey you wanna meet for coffee?"/"Uhhh nope.") I can't have any liquids of entertainment. No alcohol. No tea. No juice. No nothing. I DID handcraft some ice cold water with ginger in it and yes you can(!) still drive with this magical elixir in your system. I made my second bottle full and I handed it to P so he could taste it, and he said, I already tried it. And I said, this is different. It has more ginger.
Oy, ya know? That's how it is, right now.
Saturday, at work, I did some major misbehaving and I marched myself up to the second floor and scored myself this delightful treat. These are two things I don't normally ingest. I just couldn't take no-no' mo'.
The Doctor is In
PS: I'll try to befriend silken tofu but Chamomile will forever remind me of armpits. Amen.
One day last week, I had to actually ask for assistance from a state senator of all people. Gaaaaah. Walking in-or actually procrastinating about going at all-I felt like I was auditioning for The Biggest Loser-All of Humanity Edition.
We spoke to someone who was really nice and they were not at all surprised to see me based on current events.
Nothing has happened so far of course, but if it does and it's something good, I'll let you know.