What can I do, I ask, to cheer myself up?
Are you feeling blue? asks P.
Worse. I'm feeling purple.
Go watch the cooking show. Here he's indicating that he has good listening skills. I told him the thing that's getting me through(currently)is the treadmill and this Holiday Baking Extravaganza on the food network.
I don't get to see creativity in action anymore which is a huge and gigantic bummer and these bakers got it going on in a way I could never imagine.
I visit the treadmill everyday. The idea is not to kill yourself-which is a radical concept for me-gym~wise, but I have a certain preferred treadmill spot where I can watch two teevees at a time AND watch medical people pass by.
Guess who I saw the other day? I asked P.
Was it a surgeon?
You're supposed to guess.
The one that just stared at you?
Pink shirt? Nope. Guess again.
I don't know. There were too many.
The hernia guy!
Oh yeah? He was good. We liked him.
Yeah. I saw him but he didn't see me. Probably on purpose. I did see The Blood Lady a few weeks ago and I heard her nervous cough. I know she saw me but she looked away. She should look away. That a-hole.
Here's the situation: Into each former cancer patient's life-I'm imagining-comes something called 'follow-up' and ever since I qualified as 'intriguing', the stakes have become uncomfortably high.
The last two weeks, on top of regular life jibber-jabber-oh ya know like the heat not really coming on properly so you wake up at 2:30 in the AM and your pillow is ice cold, to-oh ya know, just plain old vanilla life-stuff, you have to go through all kinds of medical testing.
My Mother, maythelordhavemercyonhersoul, were she here, would say to me, Can you just not dwell on it? She was an expert on the unnecessary depth of the dwell gauge of her offspring which worked for her but for me? Not so much.
And the answer is, well, I can try not to think about the ramifications of this every-three-months-cancer-testing, but every time I'd open my arm, I'd be treated to the sight of a blue and yellow bruise from Blood test 1.
When I returned for Blood test 2, I asked one of the blood draw-ers in the cancer center why they always inquired if a Band-aid was okay. She said it's because people getting certain types of chemo-if they apply a regular Band-aid, it rips their skin right off. Oh, said me. I didn't know. I thought the pink tape that sticks to itself was just that much cooler.
When I pulled off my Band-aid off from Blood test 2, I had a reddish purple bruise in the shape of the Band-aid. I couldn't ignore it. It was with me all week.
Thank goodness the cold weather brought sleeves.
So. This week? Everyone's voices seemed louder. They seemed like they were complaining about the stupidest of stuff and manufacturing mountains out of the most moronic mush. I couldn't speak with people who were celebrating extreme good news and I couldn't speak with anyone who was experiencing extreme bad stuff because my entire goal was to try and maintain stability for myself.
Easier said than done.
My Fairy God Friend threaten to smack me in the head if I continued to try and trivialize the trauma of these weeks of cancer testing. It's embarrassing to me, you know, to appear so weak this late in the game.
So, I did go to the treadmill and I secretly raced the oblivious woman who was walking next to me and while I was watching two different teevee shows at the very same time, I kicked her ass into Northern New Jersey and she didn't even know I was spying on her treadmill dashboard. Watch out for me. I'm sneaky that way.
I made it to the Jewel where I saw Carlisa. Carlisa is running the entire joint except she does that from the perspective of collecting the carts and bagging the groceries. 'How you doin'?', she asked and she looked into my 'trying extremely hard just to hold it together' eyes.
You need to buy yourself some flowers. Right over there.
I got a bunch of sort of neon fuchsia mini-carnations, because Carlisa knows many things that I do not currently understand.