I wonder, are steroids worse than tamoxifen?
I guess there's the battle of pimples. But, if you work out? Awesome.
The tamoxirage is annoying me. Like crazy. It comes and goes, and I'm grateful that it's hopefully stopping my rogue cancer cells from traveling to incurable sections of my body.
But, seriously, wouldn't steroids also suppress my chick hormones? I mean, let's get real. Female bodybuilders on the juice probably never drop an egg a month, and the ones with boobs are implanted. I wonder what the rate of breast cancer is in female bodybuilders???
I wonder if my oncologist would get on board with me on this idea. Um, I know the answer. But it's still way tempting to ask her. Because, she's a straight shooter and most likely I'd hear "I really don't know much about that". Instead of, "that's a terrible idea and you are going to burn in Hell for entertaining that thought".
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever. I think Cancer is Hell. So I'm already here! Bring on the juice and let's get ripped!!!
*in my dreams*
Meanwhile, in weight control land, I have been bad for a few weeks and had put on about 3-4 lbs. Not much, you say? Well, to me it is. So, I've been ridiculously disciplined the past few days, to the point of wondering if it was all worth it. But, it was. I'm back to a reasonable size, 3 lbs. less. Now, to hang onto it.
Because... a photo session is being planned for Sunday.
I'm getting a fucking areola tattoo in 3 weeks, I need proper documentation that I was areola-less! We'll do promo shots too, hopefully. But meanwhile, I didn't want to feel like a fatty for this event. Even though I have no plans to release said areola photos. Though, the other night, I did talk to hubs about releasing them when I'm too old to care. But of course, I'll probably consider my daughter.
We have photos from the beginning - from before surgery, to at the hospital getting a Huge Ass Needle right through my nipple (curse you, Cancer! That shit hurt like a muthafucka!!!) Great. The last sensation I had on my nipple before it was plopped into a tupperware container was that? Ugh. We have photos from when I woke up, nauseous like crazy. My drains hanging from the mystery hole in between my ribs somehow. The deflated (defeated) expander as it grew. The radiation burns at the end, when I looked like a slab of jerkey. But no photos since exchange. I look like an alien. A crooked smile across my colorless breast-ish thing. It mocks me. Bitch. Hopefully the tattoo will make me feel less like my body is laughing at me.
To nipple or not? I'm not too concerned right now. We'll see how I feel when the color settles in.
Meanwhile, I have to pack for a gig! Where does the time go???
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Salt Lick and my aching skull.
I had guinea pigs as a young girl. Sneakers and Whistles. Cute little buggers, pooped a lot, squeaked when you snapped a carrot in half (or clapped your hands to create a carrot-snapping simulator... how cruel we were), and basically did nothing but eat green pellets, drink out of a water bottle that had a weird little metal ball in it so that it wouldn't spill all over the cage, and chew on a salt lick that hung from the wires of the cage.
I wish I had a salt lick.
I've been craving salt - something that is totally new to my cravings list. New as of a couple of months ago, but getting stronger by the day. Is it the medication? Is it leeching sodium from my body? Savory cravings, ok. Sweet, definitely. But specifically, salt now. Like, I could dump a spoonful of salt down my gullet and feel quite pleased with myself. Of course, I won't. Probably.
Is that a teaspoon or tablespoon? Perhaps I can start with a demitasse spoon and work my way up.
I've also been getting these bizarre headaches. Something else totally new to my "Oh, my aching..." vocabulary. Usually it's my wrist, more recently my hip, and always my upper back. I feel like a little gremlin is stabbing my brain with a small knife. A good one, but small enough to not kill me quickly. I asked hubs if he thought I had a blood clot from the meds that travelled up to my brain and is about to kill me. He thinks not. But he doesn't even play a doctor on tv.
The truth is, I don't want any more tests for a while. I'm so radioactive that my skin is actually glowing. I mean, it looks pretty good. Perhaps it's the exfoliation I recently did, but I'll give radioactive particles a nod in my beautification. At least it makes me feel better about all this shit floating in my body. Stupid cancer.
Hubs keeps telling me to take an advil, but I don't want anything else in my body! Stupid? Maybe. He is performing late tonight and I'm heading out in a few. Maybe I'll throw a few in my purse just in case. Or maybe I'll just take one or two. I mean, it's Advil. Not Tamoxifen. Now THAT shit is toxic. Oh, crap...
How many things can one worry about when one is a cancer patient? Sure, you can get the surgery, the radiation, the medication, the tests... and then you not only have to worry about the cancer, but you have to worry about the side effects of all the shit that didn't even eradicate your cancer. I mean, that's a pretty crappy deal if you ask me!
I had been SO bad on my diet the past (almost) 2 weeks and gained a few. That certainly didn't help my mood. Well, today I weighed in at a respectable weight for me nowadays. I mean, really - you have cancer, you do all this shit to your body, you are worried about your mortality more than ever, and on top of it you have a muffin top? No thanks.
Though I did have (after dinner): a yogurt, a slice of raspberry tart, and an apple. I know, for most that's good. But with new and *improved* tamoxifat, breathing in too much air will make you gain weight!
NO! I'm on tamoxithin. Must keep telling myself that. This diet shit is not easy at all. I need to keep it together - I watched my mom at the end. She let go of everything. She sat around and stopped exercising, ate a bunch of processed shit - something we never were allowed as kids - and she died. Of course she did. But, by the time she did, us kids moved out and were on our own, and she was left with a husband who clearly didn't give a shit and thought of her as a burden. I know that for a fact - it was so obvious, even a week before she passed he said to me, "It won't be long now". I could picture him rubbing his hands together maniacally and plotting to sell her wedding rings - since he destroyed her will, there was no evidence that she wanted to leave them, or anything else, to any of us. Yeah. I have good reasons for my short shit list. But, I can still picture being a little girl and wearing her rings and her telling me that someday they'd be mine. And memories - good memories - are worth more than anything. I'm glad to have my memories of her, and I refuse to leave my daughter like that. I have a husband who actually loves me, who gives a shit about me. And I hope that in 10 years, he still will, no matter what happens. And even though my daughter doesn't even have her ears pierced or wear jewelry, she will get my wedding rings, and whatever else she wants that makes her happy and think of our good times.
Well, crap. I think I just built my coffin with that paragraph.
But, I want to be cremated anyway. So I guess we'll just plant some flowers in the coffin and keep my will safe and perhaps take an Advil or two before I leave for the show.
I wish I had a salt lick.
I've been craving salt - something that is totally new to my cravings list. New as of a couple of months ago, but getting stronger by the day. Is it the medication? Is it leeching sodium from my body? Savory cravings, ok. Sweet, definitely. But specifically, salt now. Like, I could dump a spoonful of salt down my gullet and feel quite pleased with myself. Of course, I won't. Probably.
Is that a teaspoon or tablespoon? Perhaps I can start with a demitasse spoon and work my way up.
I've also been getting these bizarre headaches. Something else totally new to my "Oh, my aching..." vocabulary. Usually it's my wrist, more recently my hip, and always my upper back. I feel like a little gremlin is stabbing my brain with a small knife. A good one, but small enough to not kill me quickly. I asked hubs if he thought I had a blood clot from the meds that travelled up to my brain and is about to kill me. He thinks not. But he doesn't even play a doctor on tv.
The truth is, I don't want any more tests for a while. I'm so radioactive that my skin is actually glowing. I mean, it looks pretty good. Perhaps it's the exfoliation I recently did, but I'll give radioactive particles a nod in my beautification. At least it makes me feel better about all this shit floating in my body. Stupid cancer.
Hubs keeps telling me to take an advil, but I don't want anything else in my body! Stupid? Maybe. He is performing late tonight and I'm heading out in a few. Maybe I'll throw a few in my purse just in case. Or maybe I'll just take one or two. I mean, it's Advil. Not Tamoxifen. Now THAT shit is toxic. Oh, crap...
How many things can one worry about when one is a cancer patient? Sure, you can get the surgery, the radiation, the medication, the tests... and then you not only have to worry about the cancer, but you have to worry about the side effects of all the shit that didn't even eradicate your cancer. I mean, that's a pretty crappy deal if you ask me!
I had been SO bad on my diet the past (almost) 2 weeks and gained a few. That certainly didn't help my mood. Well, today I weighed in at a respectable weight for me nowadays. I mean, really - you have cancer, you do all this shit to your body, you are worried about your mortality more than ever, and on top of it you have a muffin top? No thanks.
Though I did have (after dinner): a yogurt, a slice of raspberry tart, and an apple. I know, for most that's good. But with new and *improved* tamoxifat, breathing in too much air will make you gain weight!
NO! I'm on tamoxithin. Must keep telling myself that. This diet shit is not easy at all. I need to keep it together - I watched my mom at the end. She let go of everything. She sat around and stopped exercising, ate a bunch of processed shit - something we never were allowed as kids - and she died. Of course she did. But, by the time she did, us kids moved out and were on our own, and she was left with a husband who clearly didn't give a shit and thought of her as a burden. I know that for a fact - it was so obvious, even a week before she passed he said to me, "It won't be long now". I could picture him rubbing his hands together maniacally and plotting to sell her wedding rings - since he destroyed her will, there was no evidence that she wanted to leave them, or anything else, to any of us. Yeah. I have good reasons for my short shit list. But, I can still picture being a little girl and wearing her rings and her telling me that someday they'd be mine. And memories - good memories - are worth more than anything. I'm glad to have my memories of her, and I refuse to leave my daughter like that. I have a husband who actually loves me, who gives a shit about me. And I hope that in 10 years, he still will, no matter what happens. And even though my daughter doesn't even have her ears pierced or wear jewelry, she will get my wedding rings, and whatever else she wants that makes her happy and think of our good times.
Well, crap. I think I just built my coffin with that paragraph.
But, I want to be cremated anyway. So I guess we'll just plant some flowers in the coffin and keep my will safe and perhaps take an Advil or two before I leave for the show.
Monday, August 19, 2013
Bone Scan
I had my bone scan after 6 months on tamoxibreakyourbones. The techie was VERY hard to understand, a very thick Russian accent, and I'm usually very good at interpreting most accents - but wow. What an exercise today! Anyhoo, after my scan (and after taking out multiple jewelries - that nose ring always bugs me when I have to put it back in!) I chatted with the technician while I got dressed (ALWAYS bring your stuff into the room so you can dress while chatting, rather than feeling vulnerable in a robe while your goods are locked up in some locker down the hall!) She said my bones didn't look "super solid" (or maybe she said she wanted a salad for lunch...) She also said that a woman with a small frame like me (yay!) would not have as dense bones as one with a larger frame (boo!)
She encouraged me to keep lifting weights (or perhaps said something about the gates... of hell...) and to not gain weight. Ex-CUSE me? Well, I did gain about 5 lbs. over this last week, it's been all bad eating since the birthday celebration for my girl, mostly because of tempting leftovers. Then we had friends over on Saturday night and ordered Chinese food. At around 10pm. And then we had raspberry torte (which was incredible). And getting my period on top of it all, well, I've been a hormonal disaster with food. I did work out Saturday and Sunday, and felt particularly Manly on Sunday. But yeah, the wheat, the extra carbs I usually never eat...
So, today I'm off to a good start. Had a protein bar, 2 apples, salad and half of a ribeye (grass fed organic, of course!), and a cup of fresh cherries. How I would love to have leftover birthday cake from the freezer, or leftover raspberry torte, or a box of pasta or loaf of bread... but here I am. I may end up with a glass of wine in my face before the night is over, and I know that my weight is still lower than it was last winter, but it seems my standards have gone skyrocketing since cancer. Not only because I feel like my womanhood has been totally hacked off of my body, but because I do know that keeping my body fat down and my muscle up will somehow help me keep the cancer from getting more stupid, or at least I will feel more powerful if it gets me again. I'm thinking maybe if the radiation or surgery couldn't scare the bugger cells off, I can bully them away!
Grrrrrr.
Ok, I'm not that scary. But, my tummy is growling and somehow that feels good. I've been feeling full for over a week now. And I hate that. And I tried on a skirt Saturday that I decided I felt too pudgy in. I am not pleased while sporting a muffin top. Luckily, I had a dress that masked said muffin. Ok, I'm small and work hard at it - but 5 lbs. on a small frame (especially riding atop rickety, old lady bones!) does NOT make a happy me. For the first time in my life, I have a partner who gets it and actually knows how to encourage me without making me feel like a fat-ass. That is a miracle.
Men- learn to talk to your women and encourage them without insult. Impossible? 99%. Which leaves 1% of possibility. As I told a (gay) friend of mine today, I have the gayest straight husband, ever. He totally agreed.
She encouraged me to keep lifting weights (or perhaps said something about the gates... of hell...) and to not gain weight. Ex-CUSE me? Well, I did gain about 5 lbs. over this last week, it's been all bad eating since the birthday celebration for my girl, mostly because of tempting leftovers. Then we had friends over on Saturday night and ordered Chinese food. At around 10pm. And then we had raspberry torte (which was incredible). And getting my period on top of it all, well, I've been a hormonal disaster with food. I did work out Saturday and Sunday, and felt particularly Manly on Sunday. But yeah, the wheat, the extra carbs I usually never eat...
So, today I'm off to a good start. Had a protein bar, 2 apples, salad and half of a ribeye (grass fed organic, of course!), and a cup of fresh cherries. How I would love to have leftover birthday cake from the freezer, or leftover raspberry torte, or a box of pasta or loaf of bread... but here I am. I may end up with a glass of wine in my face before the night is over, and I know that my weight is still lower than it was last winter, but it seems my standards have gone skyrocketing since cancer. Not only because I feel like my womanhood has been totally hacked off of my body, but because I do know that keeping my body fat down and my muscle up will somehow help me keep the cancer from getting more stupid, or at least I will feel more powerful if it gets me again. I'm thinking maybe if the radiation or surgery couldn't scare the bugger cells off, I can bully them away!
Grrrrrr.
Ok, I'm not that scary. But, my tummy is growling and somehow that feels good. I've been feeling full for over a week now. And I hate that. And I tried on a skirt Saturday that I decided I felt too pudgy in. I am not pleased while sporting a muffin top. Luckily, I had a dress that masked said muffin. Ok, I'm small and work hard at it - but 5 lbs. on a small frame (especially riding atop rickety, old lady bones!) does NOT make a happy me. For the first time in my life, I have a partner who gets it and actually knows how to encourage me without making me feel like a fat-ass. That is a miracle.
Men- learn to talk to your women and encourage them without insult. Impossible? 99%. Which leaves 1% of possibility. As I told a (gay) friend of mine today, I have the gayest straight husband, ever. He totally agreed.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Exclamation point!
I have been granted another cycle. Long live hormones (as long as they don't re-cancer me).
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Pins and Needles
First things first. Party? Awesome. Leftovers? Dangerous. But - I'm chronically hormonal. Which makes it even more dangerous. Also, it hasn't felt like summer in a few weeks - so I think my body is trying to pad up for the winter. Dude. IT'S AUGUST!!!
Anyway, A lot has been going on around here. I suppose that's the usual... we've been really, really stupid busy. But, we have each other. Patience is thin, waist is thick (ok, I'm still at my bottom weight from last year's pre-cancer diagnosis!) and I feel sometimes like I should just give up, gain a shit load of weight, and, well, Give Up. Then my vanity tells me that I like my new size way more than the old.
I'm going in for a bone scan Monday. Oooh! BONE SCAN! Why? Well, being on tamoxibreak for 6 months is making my joints feel gnarly. My hip hurts constantly, my wrists crackle like the fire that chestnuts might roast over at Christmas time. And, well, tamoxifen screws with bone density - no matter your age or health or activity. I do NOT want osteoporosis. Ever. But, especially now. They normally scan after a year of the horrid pills, but my docs know by now to let me do what I want to do. Within reason, sure... though I may ask about doing steroids instead of the tamoxifen - because I want to get SUPER HUGE. However, I'm guessing I will be laughed at, told that it's not targeted cancer therapy, and of course, I don't think I want hubby to have to pop a bunch of zits on my amazingly huge back while I scream obscenities during my roid rage. Ok, I won't ask. Fine.
I also asked my onco about my Gaaaaad Daaaaamed hot flashes. Pretty sure I said it like that. She told me of a few meds she could prescribe me, and also that there is an acupuncture study going on at the hospital. HELLO?
So I called. I got the call today to come fill out forms and pick up my HOT FLASH DIARY on Monday!
Dear Dumb Diary; last night I had the worst hot flash ever. I wanted to peel my sweaty, clammy skin right off of my muscles and imagined that I could leave it in a big, nasty pile on the floor next to my bedroom slippers, and put it back on in the morning like a jumpsuit. But, I ended up leaving it on and cursing the stupid cells that made me take the stupid meds. Also, why won't my metabolism go faster with all of this sweating? Isn't it like cardio? Only better? Well, diary, you suck, and so do my hot flashes. Sorry about the sweat stains on the page, I just started again, and feel like I'm having a combo panic attack with looming vomit and passing out in the very near future. Yeah. And it's not even real menopause, so I still have to worry about getting pregnant and will have to go through all this shit again when I'm older. If I live that long. Other than that, I had a good day.
Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'll have fun with it. 5 weeks - 2 treatments a week, then 4 weeks - 1 treatment a week. I am REALLY hopeful that I will be in the real group. But, how do they do placebo needles??? Or do they needle different tsubos? Guess I'll find out. If I'm in the faker group, I'll get real treatment after the study. But that's like a million week commitment. Ok, more like 20 instead of 10 (one week before treatment, I start the DIARY OF SWEATY DOOM!)
Hopefully in my crazed schedule I'll be able to figure it all out. I really want to do the study. We'll see!
Right now I'm totally full and starving - hormones! AHHHHHHHH!!! Perhaps a Schmailey's is in order. I haven't had one in a long time.
ps. To the cancer cells left - please go now. Thank you.
Anyway, A lot has been going on around here. I suppose that's the usual... we've been really, really stupid busy. But, we have each other. Patience is thin, waist is thick (ok, I'm still at my bottom weight from last year's pre-cancer diagnosis!) and I feel sometimes like I should just give up, gain a shit load of weight, and, well, Give Up. Then my vanity tells me that I like my new size way more than the old.
I'm going in for a bone scan Monday. Oooh! BONE SCAN! Why? Well, being on tamoxibreak for 6 months is making my joints feel gnarly. My hip hurts constantly, my wrists crackle like the fire that chestnuts might roast over at Christmas time. And, well, tamoxifen screws with bone density - no matter your age or health or activity. I do NOT want osteoporosis. Ever. But, especially now. They normally scan after a year of the horrid pills, but my docs know by now to let me do what I want to do. Within reason, sure... though I may ask about doing steroids instead of the tamoxifen - because I want to get SUPER HUGE. However, I'm guessing I will be laughed at, told that it's not targeted cancer therapy, and of course, I don't think I want hubby to have to pop a bunch of zits on my amazingly huge back while I scream obscenities during my roid rage. Ok, I won't ask. Fine.
I also asked my onco about my Gaaaaad Daaaaamed hot flashes. Pretty sure I said it like that. She told me of a few meds she could prescribe me, and also that there is an acupuncture study going on at the hospital. HELLO?
So I called. I got the call today to come fill out forms and pick up my HOT FLASH DIARY on Monday!
Dear Dumb Diary; last night I had the worst hot flash ever. I wanted to peel my sweaty, clammy skin right off of my muscles and imagined that I could leave it in a big, nasty pile on the floor next to my bedroom slippers, and put it back on in the morning like a jumpsuit. But, I ended up leaving it on and cursing the stupid cells that made me take the stupid meds. Also, why won't my metabolism go faster with all of this sweating? Isn't it like cardio? Only better? Well, diary, you suck, and so do my hot flashes. Sorry about the sweat stains on the page, I just started again, and feel like I'm having a combo panic attack with looming vomit and passing out in the very near future. Yeah. And it's not even real menopause, so I still have to worry about getting pregnant and will have to go through all this shit again when I'm older. If I live that long. Other than that, I had a good day.
Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'll have fun with it. 5 weeks - 2 treatments a week, then 4 weeks - 1 treatment a week. I am REALLY hopeful that I will be in the real group. But, how do they do placebo needles??? Or do they needle different tsubos? Guess I'll find out. If I'm in the faker group, I'll get real treatment after the study. But that's like a million week commitment. Ok, more like 20 instead of 10 (one week before treatment, I start the DIARY OF SWEATY DOOM!)
Hopefully in my crazed schedule I'll be able to figure it all out. I really want to do the study. We'll see!
Right now I'm totally full and starving - hormones! AHHHHHHHH!!! Perhaps a Schmailey's is in order. I haven't had one in a long time.
ps. To the cancer cells left - please go now. Thank you.
Friday, August 9, 2013
Some days, people walk into traffic.
Bad mood today. Why? I'm exhausted. I can't seem to catch up, no matter how much I sleep.
Hubs and I met at the gym. Place was packed with a-holes. Well, there were people in front of their a-holes. Really, nobody was an a-hole to us, it was just packed. To the gills. We had a half assed lame workout. Gave up. But my faux energy drink gave me a little boost, which is good, because before then I was truly seeing double.
Actually had a nice dinner at this pita joint we like around the corner. Some kind of grilled chicken salad thing, a mushroom hummus plate, and a feta cheese dip. I was FAMISHED. Even though I'd eaten more than my usual quota already. Exhaustion. Stress. Eating. But, the shit was good. And I was happy.
We are having a birthday gathering for my daughter on Sunday. Her birthday was a week and a half ago. We've been so busy that it hasn't happened. I had asked hubby to help me with plans weeks ago, and not one plan has been helped with. He's been extremely busy, but I'd prefer a "I don't have time to help you right now, sorry. Maybe the day before, I can just go and get whatever you need". But no. No response. Other than acknowledgement of said list - really, just helping me decide on what to have food wise. Other than pizza, which is the pre-determined main course for every children's birthday party. Until 18? Maybe. But what other food should we serve? What do I need to buy/prepare? Do we have enough shit for people to get chubby on?
Anyway, we stopped into my usual birthday cake haunt to order. Went to the counter, there was someone at the deli which is right next to the bakery, so I asked him. Blank stare. "The cake person left for the day." So I asked if we could place an order to pick up Sunday. No answer. Finally, he told us to go ask at customer service, it's not his department. SERIOUSLY? I'm about to bust my fist through the glass case and throw a shitload of sweaty meats at the dude. Maybe then he'd actually be able to think. Instead of a moment of satisfaction and a looming repair bill and criminal record, we went to customer service. Similar shit. She asked what size cake, we told her we already picked them out. She walked with us to the counter, we explained that we wanted them written on and to pick up Sunday - which I ALWAYS do at this store, for years now... and she had that same blank stare. Let me tell you, I was NOT having it. Tired, annoyed, stressed, I wanted to smack the apathy right off of her face, but instead I told her that we'd go elsewhere, perhaps there were other stores that actually cared about customer service.
Yeah, I'm in a bad mood. You'd be too.
So we were crossing the street, and a slow car was chugging along. Hubby and I were clearly annoyed, and he walked SO close to the car that I had envisioned him splattering all over me seconds later. He didn't know why I was mad. That was some man shit if I've ever seen it. No. Please don't get hit by a car just because you're annoyed. Yeah, he was going super slow. But he might have been texting, or jerking off, or sleeping at the wheel. Not worth it.
Now, I have a party to host in a day and a half. I'm working tomorrow - not a long gig, but he's rehearsing and then going out of town for the eve for a gig. When the hell am I supposed to deal with this? Plus, have I mentioned how FUCKING EXHAUSTED I've been? Is it the tamoxifen? Is my brain finally cracking under pressure? Is there a blood clot forming in my leg that is hitting some bizarre nerve that is making me go all narcoleptic? Am I about to drop dead because I agreed to take this stupid shit? And am I about to drop dead, in a bad mood??? That would super suck.
I may end up spending a fortune that I don't have so I can get a last minute catering deal. If only he'd told me that he didn't have time. Perhaps not what he wanted his answer to be, but I would be a lot less pissed off right now. I can't even envision baking a cake or two. All I can imagine is this glass of wine next to me, the soft bed awaiting me, and my fist through the deli counter, followed by flying sweaty deli meats being tossed to and fro.
Now, THAT'S a party.
Hubs and I met at the gym. Place was packed with a-holes. Well, there were people in front of their a-holes. Really, nobody was an a-hole to us, it was just packed. To the gills. We had a half assed lame workout. Gave up. But my faux energy drink gave me a little boost, which is good, because before then I was truly seeing double.
Actually had a nice dinner at this pita joint we like around the corner. Some kind of grilled chicken salad thing, a mushroom hummus plate, and a feta cheese dip. I was FAMISHED. Even though I'd eaten more than my usual quota already. Exhaustion. Stress. Eating. But, the shit was good. And I was happy.
We are having a birthday gathering for my daughter on Sunday. Her birthday was a week and a half ago. We've been so busy that it hasn't happened. I had asked hubby to help me with plans weeks ago, and not one plan has been helped with. He's been extremely busy, but I'd prefer a "I don't have time to help you right now, sorry. Maybe the day before, I can just go and get whatever you need". But no. No response. Other than acknowledgement of said list - really, just helping me decide on what to have food wise. Other than pizza, which is the pre-determined main course for every children's birthday party. Until 18? Maybe. But what other food should we serve? What do I need to buy/prepare? Do we have enough shit for people to get chubby on?
Anyway, we stopped into my usual birthday cake haunt to order. Went to the counter, there was someone at the deli which is right next to the bakery, so I asked him. Blank stare. "The cake person left for the day." So I asked if we could place an order to pick up Sunday. No answer. Finally, he told us to go ask at customer service, it's not his department. SERIOUSLY? I'm about to bust my fist through the glass case and throw a shitload of sweaty meats at the dude. Maybe then he'd actually be able to think. Instead of a moment of satisfaction and a looming repair bill and criminal record, we went to customer service. Similar shit. She asked what size cake, we told her we already picked them out. She walked with us to the counter, we explained that we wanted them written on and to pick up Sunday - which I ALWAYS do at this store, for years now... and she had that same blank stare. Let me tell you, I was NOT having it. Tired, annoyed, stressed, I wanted to smack the apathy right off of her face, but instead I told her that we'd go elsewhere, perhaps there were other stores that actually cared about customer service.
Yeah, I'm in a bad mood. You'd be too.
So we were crossing the street, and a slow car was chugging along. Hubby and I were clearly annoyed, and he walked SO close to the car that I had envisioned him splattering all over me seconds later. He didn't know why I was mad. That was some man shit if I've ever seen it. No. Please don't get hit by a car just because you're annoyed. Yeah, he was going super slow. But he might have been texting, or jerking off, or sleeping at the wheel. Not worth it.
Now, I have a party to host in a day and a half. I'm working tomorrow - not a long gig, but he's rehearsing and then going out of town for the eve for a gig. When the hell am I supposed to deal with this? Plus, have I mentioned how FUCKING EXHAUSTED I've been? Is it the tamoxifen? Is my brain finally cracking under pressure? Is there a blood clot forming in my leg that is hitting some bizarre nerve that is making me go all narcoleptic? Am I about to drop dead because I agreed to take this stupid shit? And am I about to drop dead, in a bad mood??? That would super suck.
I may end up spending a fortune that I don't have so I can get a last minute catering deal. If only he'd told me that he didn't have time. Perhaps not what he wanted his answer to be, but I would be a lot less pissed off right now. I can't even envision baking a cake or two. All I can imagine is this glass of wine next to me, the soft bed awaiting me, and my fist through the deli counter, followed by flying sweaty deli meats being tossed to and fro.
Now, THAT'S a party.
Monday, August 5, 2013
Oil pulling while in massage chair while typing stuff.
Yeah. You heard me right.
What?
Oil Pulling. In a massage chair. While typing stuff.
Man. My back is feeling a good ouch after my rolfing. It feels alive. My hip too. I only wish I could feel my foobie, but - you can't have it all.
Had a nice weekend - lunch with a friend (Hi!!!) turned into a *bad food* experience - meaning good. Eggs florentine. They called it something else. Perhaps in some language it means "Eggs florentine with a side of heart attack". It was delish. Nice to connect with friends. He walked me to the farmers market so I could purchase my weekly quota of fuji apples. We talked and talked, something I guess we're both good at. Mostly about music and cancer. But really, what else is there? Lots? Oh, right. Like breakfast that has enough calories to feed a family of 8. Ate. Hah. Yeah, I know. Don't give up my night job.
Sunday, hubs had a BBQ gig. So I ate more. Before that, I was starving - not sure why (my guesses: hormones on stupid tamoxifen, the weather being way too brisk for August and my body thinks I need to fatten up for the winter, or just gluttony). In my travels the day before, I purchased a bag of black bean chips. Not a huge one. But not a one serving, either. Note to self: Never, ever buy these again. No, I don't have gasseous issues with beans. I simply could not stop eating them. We don't buy much snack food anymore, and now I remember why. I'll chalk that up to "Oops".
So here I am, oil pulling again for the second time in a couple of months. I meant to do it - every day... and I finally realized today that I could do it while on the massage chair - captive audience pulling coconut oil through my teeth. Methinks I'm onto something. Check back to see if I can actually continue this bizarre practice. One good thing is that I'm neurotic about my teeth. So perhaps if I can get this whole thing rolling and getting used to it as part of my new normal, I'll be suckin' coconut oil through my teeth for many years to come.
What?
Oil Pulling. In a massage chair. While typing stuff.
Man. My back is feeling a good ouch after my rolfing. It feels alive. My hip too. I only wish I could feel my foobie, but - you can't have it all.
Had a nice weekend - lunch with a friend (Hi!!!) turned into a *bad food* experience - meaning good. Eggs florentine. They called it something else. Perhaps in some language it means "Eggs florentine with a side of heart attack". It was delish. Nice to connect with friends. He walked me to the farmers market so I could purchase my weekly quota of fuji apples. We talked and talked, something I guess we're both good at. Mostly about music and cancer. But really, what else is there? Lots? Oh, right. Like breakfast that has enough calories to feed a family of 8. Ate. Hah. Yeah, I know. Don't give up my night job.
Sunday, hubs had a BBQ gig. So I ate more. Before that, I was starving - not sure why (my guesses: hormones on stupid tamoxifen, the weather being way too brisk for August and my body thinks I need to fatten up for the winter, or just gluttony). In my travels the day before, I purchased a bag of black bean chips. Not a huge one. But not a one serving, either. Note to self: Never, ever buy these again. No, I don't have gasseous issues with beans. I simply could not stop eating them. We don't buy much snack food anymore, and now I remember why. I'll chalk that up to "Oops".
So here I am, oil pulling again for the second time in a couple of months. I meant to do it - every day... and I finally realized today that I could do it while on the massage chair - captive audience pulling coconut oil through my teeth. Methinks I'm onto something. Check back to see if I can actually continue this bizarre practice. One good thing is that I'm neurotic about my teeth. So perhaps if I can get this whole thing rolling and getting used to it as part of my new normal, I'll be suckin' coconut oil through my teeth for many years to come.
Friday, August 2, 2013
I Rolfed.
No, I didn't throw up.
Precisely, I was rolfed. For the first time in a few years.
Rolfing helped me so much with chronic issues, associated with both my scoliosis and my playing of a musical instrument for a living. I went above the standard series of 10 a few years ago (maybe 13 or so?) and felt like a new woman. The changes are long lasting, and sporatic maintenance visits are recommended.
Cancer got in my way. I wanted to go a year ago. But I was busy having my breast hacked off, being burned at the stake, and then reconstructed.
I was so happy to be back. He worked around the site, opening up my shoulder and hip and pelvis and a bit of my upper back. I've been literally walking around for almost a year protecting my "site" and closing off. Understandable, but sucky.
Perhaps in a month or two I'll go back again. My hip was really hurting the past few days, and now? Much better. A little sore still, but I feel like I can work through it now.
Yesterday was my baby girl's 12th birthday. We went to a Japanese BBQ joint - a bit pricey, but so yummy! It was an experience for sure, and I think it might be a special occasion kind of place. I'm so proud of her, even though she sometimes really tests me - as most 12 year olds do. She's a good kid - young lady - and I can't believe I get to be her mom! I want to stick around for a long time.
Now, how exactly do I get rid of the rest of this cancer in me again?
Precisely, I was rolfed. For the first time in a few years.
Rolfing helped me so much with chronic issues, associated with both my scoliosis and my playing of a musical instrument for a living. I went above the standard series of 10 a few years ago (maybe 13 or so?) and felt like a new woman. The changes are long lasting, and sporatic maintenance visits are recommended.
Cancer got in my way. I wanted to go a year ago. But I was busy having my breast hacked off, being burned at the stake, and then reconstructed.
I was so happy to be back. He worked around the site, opening up my shoulder and hip and pelvis and a bit of my upper back. I've been literally walking around for almost a year protecting my "site" and closing off. Understandable, but sucky.
Perhaps in a month or two I'll go back again. My hip was really hurting the past few days, and now? Much better. A little sore still, but I feel like I can work through it now.
Yesterday was my baby girl's 12th birthday. We went to a Japanese BBQ joint - a bit pricey, but so yummy! It was an experience for sure, and I think it might be a special occasion kind of place. I'm so proud of her, even though she sometimes really tests me - as most 12 year olds do. She's a good kid - young lady - and I can't believe I get to be her mom! I want to stick around for a long time.
Now, how exactly do I get rid of the rest of this cancer in me again?
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