Sunnybrook

Even booking chemo is bumpy

Remember how last time my chemo schedule got fucked up and I was on a waiting list? A waiting list. For chemo. Which just seems wrong. Isn’t it one of those obligatory, time-sensitive things? As opposed to a voluntary, I think I’ll put myself on the waiting list for that fun activity, thing?

So here’s what happened this time. Last week when I got called to confirm my CT scan for Feb 6, I asked if my chemo was booked. 

Night at the Emerg - the aftermath

My mom had to remind me how exhausted I was the last time I had chemo. ‘You wrote about it.” Oh ya, I did.

The idea of rereading that blog post to remind myself how crappy it was seems counterproductive or masochistic. While misery does, to an extent, love company, I think it prefers the company of someone else, not the memory of its own past misery. I’ll take her word for it.

Doing Defence

I've been thinking about the skills and experiences that have strengthened my defence, and will bolster me in the cancer arena. I used to box. In boxing, there are a variety of defences - contact and non-contact. There's blocking: covering your face with your gloves and taking the punch to the arms not to the head. There’s parrying: deflecting the blows off to the side with a swat. There’s slipping: ducking or moving to one side to avoid contact all together.

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.

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