And the worst part, is that it has affected me. Three times today, I've gotten out of my truck only to realize that I've been a bad parker. This is not normal for me. Usually I align the long axis of my truck directly superimposed on a line equidistant and parallel to the yellow lines on the side of the space. But not today. Today my parking looked like a metaphor for everything that is wrong with this country. This will not stand! I will park right!
Other events today: I saw the oncologist's nurse and we had a cuttin' up good time. I thanked her for not wanting to stick anything up my butt and she pledged to me that she would never stick anything up my butt. You have no idea how reassuring this is. I suspect everyone in the TCSC of harboring designs on my rear end, and I live in perpetual fear of the dreaded words. I have taken to wearing sports jerseys, un-tucked, in an effort to camouflage my posterior from the greedy eyes of would-be probers.
The good news from the oncologists' bloodwork - white blood cell (WBC) looks good, and hemoglobin (or Homo-Goblins, as I insist on pronouncing it) is looking good as well. No swelling and cracking of my hands or feet yet, no mouth sores from the chemo. All is well.
![]() | |
| Nothing says fun like a spaceman! |
Later on I was in a rush to make it to radiation therapy, so I didn't get the chance to wear crazy socks. I did, however, stick a spaceman sticker very close to my nether-regions that are getting irradiated. When the radiation therapist saw the sticker, she just about fell out. Huzzah! Victory for me! Only now I have to one-up my stickers every day. That's a lot of pressure. Next up: My Little Pony stickers (easily obtainable at my house).

No comments:
Post a Comment