Blue Skies, Wedgies, and Chris Daughtry

         

Yesterday morning when I left my house it was a beautifully sunny day. The sky was a gorgeous shade of blue. Just looking at it I felt like it was a summer day. Gazing around, I saw the barren trees limbs and the snow everywhere like so many white blankets stacked upon the ground and the illusion suddenly disappeared.

Anyhow, I woke up feeling good. I put on my favorite jeans and my new pink shirt. (Always feeling good when I wear pink! )

First stop - Walmart.   Where else?

It occurs to me that my bra is killing me. A quick stop into the bathroom to try and adjust this problem. ( to no avail )

It then occurs to me about half way through the store that my jeans are what my mother might refer to as "riding up." Possibly otherwise known as wedgy! Here`s the dilemma .... do I schlep half way across the store to the bathroom again? Or do I just slip into an empty aisle and give a tug? But then will I be caught on camera in this compromising, un-ladylike position? Come on, we`ve all been there.

I won`t tell you which I chose. I know you`ll all lose sleep tonight in a fit of suspense.

After a trip to the bank and the gas station, I am now on my way to the Cleveland Clinic for treatment.

On the way I am rocking out to Chris Daughtry. You are so right, Greg, it is really good! I might even say it`s the best release by an American Idol persona so far!

So I get to the hospital and  I am informed that since my chemo and meds are doing so good and since I seem to tolerate it quite well ( their words, not mine ), that I will continue to do this for yet a few more months.

This hospital has come to be a place of many friends for me. As the nurse pokes a rather long, and might I add, sharp! needle into the port hidden just under the skin in my chest in order to draw blood samples, we chat about hair colors, the weather, pink shirts and dry skin. We laugh and giggle like old friends conversing over lunch. With this needle and wires taped to my chest, mostly hidden beneath my shirt, but not quite, I head out to another waiting room to see my two handsome doctors. Nurses stop by and say hi to me and tell me my hair looks great! How ARE you? How`s work? How`s your daughter doing? I love these people. We patients sit around and look at each other, and smile or nod to one another. It`s a bonding kind of thing. That look that says, "Yes, I know what you`re going through." We are all in our different stages of cancer. Some, like me, in remission, feeling good and looking normal once again. Others with no hair, others in wheel chairs, too weak to walk ... others with bad cases of nausea carrying little buckets just in case. I can relate, because 2 years ago I was in everyone of those different levels of fighting it.

My doctors ( handsome ) visit with me, ask me the usual questions, discuss my upcoming appointments and my progress. We then discuss books ... The King of Torts which I am reading by John Grishom. ( I love this book. I am fascinated by it, actually. ) and The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova, which my doctor has read and loved. And I read it and loved it. We also have the same iPod.

Next stop is the actual treatment room. I wait about 40 minutes to get in. Lots of sick people. Another nurse then hooks up my already wired port to a machine that pumps saline through it. We wait for the chemo to come in from the pharmacy. This small bag of wonder drug. I must verify my name and birthday before it`s given to me. A second nurse must double check everything. My nurse must put on gloves and a special gown to administer it. I am shown the label with the name of the drug and the amount that will be given. It`s a go.

I lean back in the easy chair, close my eyes, relax, and let the poison slide through my veins ....

Tags: Walmart, Cleveland Clinic, Chris Daughtry, chemo, John Grishom, The Historian.