Yes, I’m here. Looking for a little poise. My aplomb is intact.
I’ve had a bit of a set back. However, I am descended from strong British Irish American Canadian stock and if ever there was a time for a chin up, bear it with a smile and go ahead, I’m here, I’ll catch up, keep calm and carry on, this is it.
It is my white bloody blood cell count again. Way too low, they stopped chemo. No more transfusions. I was feeling very sick. But it’s alright, it’s done now. I didn’t need anymore. And I bought my nurses the BEST gifts. You ladies out there, and maybe some of the guys, will appreciate how wonderful it feels when you get everyone the exact right thing. It’s a great feeling. Unfortunately, neuropathy is rampant and treatment isn’t working very well. Whatever…
It’s my feet. They are not functioning properly and I can’t have that. So I decided, unwisely as it turns out, to celebrate my last chemotherapy regardless, who wouldn’t, right? I’d just be careful.
Right. So I went to an auction, I love a good auction and we needed some things-well, we did once we saw them there.
I felt good. Really. But here’s the facts, it was really hot, I shouldn’t have been on my feet that long, I was tempted and succumbed and I’m not a bit sorry.
I found my little dream car. I can drive again, soon. Road trip here I come.
It’s a Subaru. It has reverse. (I can hear the cheering) I used the rent money (the cheering dies down) but that’s okay because I can make it up by penny pinching for the next couple months. It is a nice little Subaru.
I feel great about that.
On my way out of the auction I injured my right foot badly enough that my sister almost fainted. It was bleeding fairly badly and I started laughing because after all, what are the odds AND I was freaked out AND I had no bandages AND the First Aid tent was way the hell and gone over there on the other side of the school.
Screw it. I was going home, deal with it there. I am not sick anymore. I am well. Damned if I’m not! I had to drive my new little car-which I am christening the Old Bat Mobile because I am an old bat now, (can I get a hallelujah?) and it was great. What’s a little blood. Laugh if you don’t want to cry (and you’re not at a funeral.) I laughed and laughed. I told my sister jokes and I got all my stuff home and I got my poor right foot all bandaged up, with neosporin and hydrogen peroxide and hibaclins and bandages. Hurts like hell, I tore the big toe nail pretty much off.
But the other one (seriously?) the left one had to act up all of a sudden, out of sympathy, maybe? Anyway, last night it went haywire and swelled up. I am now relegated to bed, feet -yes, both of them- elevated and it’s hotter than hell outside.
It’s time to celebrate…
Canada Day on July 1st AND July 4th, Independence Day, fireworks, bbq’s, parties, bar hopping, dancing, eating, badminton, the beach bonfire waiting for the fireworks….
blast it! I stopped myself from using strong language…just barely. But here I am. In bed for my own good. It’s sweltering in here.
I’m supposed to be on a float July 4th and I’m going to be. I’ll get better.
I have felt terrible for the past couple of weeks. It’s blood count crap…but I can face this, THIS i understand. Bloody swollen, torn up feet.
I can do this. With aplomb. I spent the day drinking green tea and planning a fabulous red, white and blue outfit, complete with hat. While lying on my back. With blurry vision. And numb fingers. And no energy…I’m going to show this son of a bitch cancer how it’s done in the Thompson/Davidson clan.
You CAN’T STOP me! I’m done with chemotherapy, how dare you try and wreck my celebration?!
Screw you, cancer. I’m going with a walker and a fabulous dress and if i have to use a wheelchair i will. And that’s that!
But I miss my fabulous shoes…