Thursday, December 1, 2016

Ya need romance, don't cha. 

Okay how's this: 

I had to get a blood test in anticipation of an appointment next week. There were 3 options. One-at the primary care's office. They are not so good at taking blood. That's where I got yelled at for saying I was a' hard stick' because I was scaring the nurse and Scaring My Veins. That's what one nurse told me. 

Option two. Go to the regular blood test place in the outpatient section of Loyola. They can be anything from great to horrible but they're not nice to you-unless you put on a puppet show of joy-which I do. Or I have done. I'm sorta way, way, way, over that. 

Option three. The Cancer Center. These women are amazing. Even if it looks crowded, they're fast. And, as the Primary Care pointed out, they have to be Really Good because the veins they deal with are under siege from cancer. 

But! It's 5 bucks to park in front of the Cancer Center. There is absolutely no reason to hand someone an extra 5 bucks at the moment, yes? 

So, the glorious P made a plan. 

He dropped me in front of the Cancer Center, he had Grantley in the back of the car and they went across the street to the Forest Preserve and waltzed around sniffing things until I texted that I was done. 

When I see a commercial for these things, I always think they look like somebody's arse. In a million years, I'd never trade having my dog strolled while I suffered a decrease in teeny painlings for the honor of having the outline of someone's behind hanging around my neck. 

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Ch-ch-ch-changes

In the department of pulling oneself together(aside from preparing to look for additional work, I think it has something to do with healing. Like putting that stuff behind yourself. Er sumpthin'.) Got into a conversation with a make-up-loving person. She was telling me what was good to buy. Look, I need assistance in these matters. I'm kinda on my own in this department. Anyway, as the conversation goes on, there's a sentence that smacks me in the actual face and it starts a little something like this: Since you had chemo.....blah blah blah. 

I guess the gist was why my skin looked as bad is it does-I can't say for sure because from there on out, I was just watching her lips move.




Ummm I didn't have chemo. 






That was the day. The Very First day in all the drama-and I know we can agree there's be a lotta drama-that I came home and I had had e-f'ing-nuff. 

Head squished into center of bed. Do not approach. 

When I was a tot, my Mom kept this little diary about me. I wish I had it now. Things like-that I ate the seeds out of green beans instead of the beans. Things like that. There was one story, where my Mom took me to the bakery with her, and the lady behind the counter-this is what they used to do in the olden days-they would grab a flash of that white pastry picking up paper and if you were a little kid-over the counter, they'd pass you a little butter cookie. 

According to legend, I cried and cried because she gave me one with no sprinkles.(I believe that's child abuse now, isn't it?) However, by the time we got to Woolworth's, I snuck under the counter and ate it anyway. 

Same thing this. A week-ish or later, I found myself in front of the very same recommended make-up counter with my Very Good Pal MK. We had just performed glasses hunting at Costco-MK is all strategy-if you ever get to hang with her-she she knows the best woman behind the counter to give you the truth about your glasses choices and stuff. 

Anyway. We ended up in front of this very makeup counter-and we're having a rare moment of girl time and I say something and MK says: You're always playing that CHEMO card, aren't you? And I tell you what. We had one of those hard, hard, we-know-what-we're-talking-about-and-we-are- not-permitting-this-shit-into-our-psyches laugh. 

Oh it was good. 

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On the news front, soon I expect to be fitted for my Wonder Woman wrist cuffs as I have been diagnosed with all kindsa vitamin deficiencies. Which is bad. Which is good. Because they're fixable. Taking iron, B-12 and today's addition-and this was based on P's suggestion to the primary care doc-a big wallop of Vitamin D. 

I know it's crazy, but I'm kinda psyched there's a possibility I might come out of this feeling expialadoshus

woo. 


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