See, what cancer doesn’t understand is that I’m the home team, and I’m undefeated. Furthermore, I’ve got the best oncologist in town pitching, and the best chemo nurse anywhere who’s catching. My husband is on first, my brother & Laura at third, my parents are sharing second, Brandy is chasing Bailey around the infield, and the WHOLE rest of the family is covering the outfield like a volleyball team. I’ve got friends in the stands, friends in the dugout, friends on the street, friends on the rooftops. I’m kicking the crap out of this cancer. It doesn’t even have a chance.
This tumor.... it should really have a name.... hmmmm.... gotta work on that... anyway it has got to be so sorry he climbed in me. He’s getting one express ticket to Tumor Heaven. The loser better enjoy the ride, too, because the ticket set me back more than he’s worth.
It just goes to show, you can’t be friends with a tumor. You invite him over to dinner and before you know it – the guy’s living with you, eating your food and using your hemoglobin without asking. Sooner or later you’re paying some professional to evict this pathetic excuse for an organism. And it’s sad, ’cause the guy can’t even live on his own, he’s just totally dependent on other people. But you can’t blame yourself, you can’t take responsibility for his inadequacies. You just gotta let him go. I mean, what a loser, right?
Treatment #3 was good. They even gave me my same room – how sweet is that? Like I was Liza Manelli looking for the VIP seating or something. The nurses are still nice, and again, I had no complications. They took my blood... I saw the doctor. After reviewing my results, it looks like my white blood cells are a little low...but okay. I will start shots for that next week. But overall, I am doing well. No evidence of lumps. Will do one more treatment and then a scan to see progress. Doing wel!?!? Of course!
I’m the HOME TEAM, baby! Bring it on!
I’ve found out something about myself during all this – well, I’ve found out many things, but this in particular: I am awesome in adversity, it’s monotony that kills me. Strap me up to the chemo IV, I’ll take the pain and the fatigue and I’ll keep smiling, but put me in a cubicle with a pile of paperwork and I’ll never live. Guess this is why I wanted a job with so much diversity in my days... clinic, teaching, research, student questions, patient questions, phone calls, hearing aid reps, faculty meetings ... YEAH I love it all!!!
Now, in all honesty, while I may be feeling particularly cocky tonight, I am not feeling particularly good. Chemotherapy is exhausting, and as I’ve said before, I feel like a truck ran over my soul. But I am going to Batman live tomorrow. And it’s probably because of the steroids, but my mind is blaring out of my mouth at Michael Phelps speeds. I’m like a revved up kid before bedtime. I don’t want to go to bed! Just ten more minutes!