Is it working yet?

Cancer has so many freaky parts. I write about them as they hit me. Up until now I’ve been in what feels like the uphill phase – the new world order. Moving bumpily toward the mid-point that may be the beginning of the end of cancer. Or not.

The new normal - or getting to know the Windsor area

Baking Soda – You’re Soaking In It

I can feel myself getting more anxious. My back went out in a restaurant bathroom this afternoon. Tomorrow I have my appointments at 10:30 am with Lymphoma, and 1:30 pm with Head and Neck cancer.

Can you see it in my face?

It couldn’t just be simple.

Every time the phone rings and it says Private Caller, I panic. I suspect I’ll have this Pavlovian response for the rest of my life. (The rest of my life... but that's another story.)

Less Ativan

For the three weeks leading up to the great news in the shitty news department (GNISND), I was almost never alone. I had cancer tinnitus and the only thing that lowered the volume was chatter and Ativan.

After my brother got tinnitus on a flight home from the Soviet Union, decades (obviously) ago, he carried around a radio and could only fall asleep to the static between stations.

Totally Rad

I have a bucket list of fears I’m looking to empty. I don’t have room for them all right now. I probably wasn’t meant to use the bucket this way, but it is my bucket. One of the fears that up until recently lay glowing at the bottom of the pile, was radiation. Hypochondriacs should never work on radiation protocol taskforces.

Lymphoma is the new good news

It’s CANCER. I can’t tell the whole story now. It will come out in bits, as I piece together the space junk (think Bullock and Clooney in Gravity) that was the last four weeks of my (really?) life. Spoiler – I have indolent cancer.  Lazy. The kind, my friend Bob says, lies around on the couch watching TV all day. No. Don’t get up. Just hold onto that remote. I’ll get you some chips.