Last week I went on and on about how much I like Nurse Lisa.
Today? Not so much.
"Mrs. Quirkster, you will be given one shot in the arm once a month."
First of all, it wasn't ONE shot, it was TWO.
Second of all, it wasn't in the arm, but in the buttocks. One in each cheek.
So unbeknownst to me I sat in the Chemo Room waiting for my shot(s), a horrific life event was about to unfold.
Lisa was out of the picture by now. She had passed me off to the Chemo Nurses. And boy was this new nurse excited and bubbly. Why was she so excited? I became suspicious.
She had lots to tell me.
"It's refrigerated, so we like to warm it up so it will go in easier."
*heart palpitations begin*
"And it will be administered in two shots, one to each buttock."
I was going to have to pull down my pants?
*full-blown panic attack setting in*
I'm always having to expose myself to strangers. Nothing like knowing that the bright lights of the injection room (yes, they have a special room off to the side of the Chemo Room just for shots) will enhance MY buttocks for an up close and personal experience with the Chemo Nurse.
*breathing in and out of the paper bag...slowly*
Lucky for Nurse Lisa, I don't hold grudges.
I'll forgive her eventually.
It's not easy.
B.S. No Chemo Nurses were harmed during the production of this post. Note: Lisa is not a Chemo Nurse. Bwahahaha!
So I am a couple days early posting for the ever ominous Friday the 13th!
Yeah, that happens this week.
Hence, the Boo!
On that alleged spooky day, I am scheduled to get my first shot as part of the Poloma Study I am participating in, however, the date was not set in stone.
Nurse Lisa: "Let's see when we can get you in... well... we'll get your EKG and lab work on Monday, Tuesday you have your CT Scan and Bone Scan... we'll need a couple of days to get those results, so what about Friday? Oh, but that's Friday the 13th, you're not superstitious are you?"
Me: "Uhm well let's see, I've already got cancer how much worse can it get? Nah, no superstitions here."
Then she laughed.
Then on Monday whilst putting stickers on my torso and limbs for my EKG, Nurse Lisa posed a very sensitive question, "How old are you?"
I told her the dreaded number.
Astonished, she replied, "I thought you were at least ten years younger than me, and I'm 44 years old."
Me: "That's the correct response."
I tell ya: I like this girl.
*insert cheesy smile here*
B.S. No EKG machines were harmed during the production of this post.
Yep, that's the name of the cancer study that I'm participating in!
My oncologist recommended it, but little did I realize how involved it would be.
First of all, there's a new nurse in my life: Lisa. She's very sweet and laughs at my jokes. So I like her. A lot.
Second of all, the study will pay for many future scans and blood work. Suh-weet. Me and my check book like this. A lot.
Third of all, my head exploded. I did not like this. A lot.
Yes, it was not pretty.
How did my head explode?
When Lisa told me that since my last biopsy was in the spring, they would just use my cancer tumor. I was confused. What? The cancer tissue procured during the bone biopsy is not good enough? That's when we confirmed metastatic breast cancer to the bones.
Back to Lisa.
"No, there might be too many bone particles in it. We'll just use the cancer tumor."
What cancer tumor?
Then the light bulb started flickering on. Dang 40 watt bulbs! Makes it hard to process things quickly.
Then it blazed white!
And blew my mind.
They have my original cancer tumor!
She confirmed this very fact.
My breast cancer tumor has been stored in some underground (?), high security (?) vault! There is some dude or dudette who takes care and makes sure nobody accesses my cancer without proper permission. What is this person's title: Tumor Vault Technician?
I had to sign a tumor release.
Apparently, according to Lisa, they keep the tumor tissue for 20 years!
Good heavens. The cancer tumor will outlive me!
I just never knew there was a part of me... somewhere out there.... beneath the pale moonlight?
Still can't wrap my mind around it. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking.
The light bulb blew.
*blub, blub, blub, blub, blub*
B.S. No Tumor Vault Technicians were harmed during the production of this post.
My ten-year-old is gearing up his wish list for Christmas. Oh yeah, no problem focusing there. No problem writing that clearly and legibly, always keeping those letters in-between the lines.
So of course, I am the lovely recipient of the verbal barrage.
"Mom! I know what I want for Christmas. I want (insert anything over 300 dollars here)."
For his birthday, that was just in October, he wanted one of two things: An iPod touch or a wheel-chair.
Yes, you read that correctly.
My son wants a wheel-chair.
Stranger than strange.
I asked him WHY?
He just replied he thought it would be cool to ride around in.
So once again, amongst all the electronic gadgets and Lego kits and motorized scooters or bikes ("whatever one YOU like best Mom" Mmm-hmm.), he is also including a wheel-chair at the very top of his list.
It seems uncomfortably funny for me to chuckle, because heaven forbid he ever NEED a wheel-chair.
It's much easier breaking bread than it is Breaking Bad.
Facing Judge Judy will always be much scarier than facing Jack McCoy's eyebrows on Law & Order. *dun, dun*
The Bible doesn't have to be a convoluted, confusing read, Just watch the mini-series produced by Mark Burnett: The Bible. Because we all know it's much easier to watch a book rather than read it.
It's always important to not judge and to redneckonize the good in others a la Here Comes Honey Boo Boo. *sneeze*
Batman and Robin wouldn't judge my bats in my bat caves please, so neither should you.
Crossbow training is a must in any person's life! Thank-you Daryl Dixon, The Walking Dead.
Zombies have really bad breath. I've always known this. I was born with this knowledge. I know, lucky! But I'm happy to share it with you, because I'm good like that and doggone it! People like me. Stuart Smalley, SNL
I cannot believe how "poppy" I've become as of late.
I used to be a die-hard classic rock and roller.
Aerosmith, Eagles, The Police, The Rolling Stones, ACDC, Bon Jovi, Def Leppard, Scorpions: all them make me wanna scream: YEAH BABY!
I still love them, but I find myself gravitating towards Katy Perry, Lady Gaga, and, and, and... ONE DIRECTION!
It's really spooky and discombobulating.
Yes, it unnerves me, but why should I deny it? I'm just surprised as I continue to evolve (aka age) that I keep on resorting back to my tween years in music preferences.
I mean do they even still print Tiger Beat Magazine? I still remember swooning over Leif Garrett.
Will I be downloading the Tiger Beat App to have it at fingertip availability?
But I can't deny how much I've been enjoying pop music. I still dig the rock-n-roll, but I'm adding all sorts of songs to my YouZeek playlist.
So after listening to Katy's Roar song for the bazillionth time, I've decided two things.
One: I'm at an age where I don't owe anybody an apology for my likes and dislikes. Yes, I'm an old curmudgeon wench now and I am definitely entitled to like Pop and Rock, as discordant as that may seem to be.
Two: I own it. Yes there is nothing to hide behind. I own it. I proclaim it. I...
So you can tsk tsk and feel sorrow or just plain annoyance with me, because some of you might be gasping at my admission, or reeling in disgust, and some of you need to pick up your chins off the floor already because....