thisismydisease.com

two computers died. not one, but two. the mbp officially bit it. the imac officially bit it. i’m now the proud owner of two dead macs - and a mb - which i may or may not get reimbursed for - and which cost over $1K (unlike the original of the computer with lesser specs, which cost over $3K). the lenova, at about $400 or so, i could’t get arrroved for. at all. i never even got the monitor because it was given to me *after* my furniture left raleigh and i had no room whatsoever for it in my car. so i gave it to a colleague and now, picked out my own. per me and thanks to the dead imac. i picked an hp due to the fact it’s an incredible monitor - and the fact that it’s 1/3 the price of the equivalent apple. hell i couldn’t get an apple for under $699.  or is it $599? regardless, i got a new monitor for far less money than i should have paid because i paid too much for a computer i may or may not get reimbursed for. and truth be told, i don’t want to be. i bought 3gigs of RAM - which amounts to 2gigs more than i originally had. i bought a monitor - one worth viewing my photos on and certainly not what would have been purchased for me or given to me. that one would have cost under $100 for a major-assed square box with no colour control.

in other developments, it was only herceptin this time (and next). my skin is so naturally smooth now - and my teeth don’t hurt as much (but cannibal junior is starting to look for a dentist for me as the chemo has destroyed my mouth - and i’m still not allowed to go to the dentist without getting knocked out).  my feet still hurt - but not need-an-oxycodone-every-four-hours hurt. i can get by with six. sometimes seven. besides, they’re only 5mg each, so what do i care? hell my little nephew takes a stronger dose. my hands still ache, though. no nails worth talking about. it’s going to take 4 full months for them to grow out *if* they grow out at the normal rate. anyway…

i hope the next cocktail will be different. this past one was horrible to the 85th power. now i can eat (sort of). and bake. and did i mention eat? things are still more than a bit strange - but it feels good to *almost* taste things the way they’re supposed to taste. it’ll take about a year post-chemo to get my tastes back - but this will do for now. couple this with everything else and, well, you have what you have.

oh, my brain is still really fuzzy. really, really fuzzy.

syd likes me though. he follows me around and gives me kisses. he stinks, but he gives me kisses.

i do like his kisses, even when he stinks.

ms. a took most of what my sil sent to hand out to the folks at the shelter. i really can’t eat a lot of is due to bad teeth and having different tastes by the minute. that’s fine. good, actually. people who can use it are getting it - and that’s all that matters (especially with this economy). i appreciate having someone to go out and feed those whose eating habits are bad because of that’s transpired with them. so brava to sil and ms. a.

so now it’s sleepy time. must relax. eat pumpkin pie (with or without crust - depends on a lot of things). drink my favourite drink (sans chocolate - i crave chocolate  but cannot eat it to save my gimpy soul). sleep well. and throw small soft toys at the tv. michael symon is on - and i do want to mame him. severely. good news is robert irvine is coming back to di in march.  does that mean he gets to come back to iron chef too - or do we have to endure any amount of that creaton? and if so, can we hurt him and get away with it?

happy birthday to me! happy birthday to me!! happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday to me!!!

in celebration of “my  day” (which my entire family ignores except mum’s phone call to me - i am, after all, proof that birth control doesn’t work - and i sure as hell didn’t ask to be born) the phone is going off, and the movies are going on. easy day. relaxing day. maybe i’ll tickle little dog and thank him for being around so long. he is special, even when he’s a dork.

to all i owe emails to: i had hope to get them written tonight; alas, the “feeling good” went away almost a quickly as it came. as s said, though, i did smile looking at the spaetzels in the grocery.  and c, you (et al) do even more than you know.

i don’t feel well.

i’m going to go to sleep now. well, at least to rest - and think of that cake i can’t have. ( i think n made a good choice of the key lime.)

hope to be able to write tonight - but if not, please forgive. you know i mean to - and love you.

hugs…ellie

ps: it’s the food network cupcake cook-off. help me every deity known and unknown! this falls right up there with the mummy who cried - CRIED - when she lost to the head artist for dc comics.

pps: cupcakes? whf are these things??? they don’t look like any cupcakes most of my friends would make (or me either). kinda like box cakes with box icing. *shudder*

another week ends; another week starts. i feel like total poop-shit this go ’round. the doc says i look great - and he thinks i’m in remission. i think he’s been hanging out with too many old folks and is just being wishful. either that or he ate too many mushrooms with his post toasties. regardless…

later today is human origami day. some nice rad or other is going to drug me and fold me into some position or other that people don’t belong in and, frankly, can’t bend into without major force and a lot of wishful thinking. lucky for me i’m relatively pliable when drugged out of my mind - and don’t mind being subjected to a teeny tiny spaces. i don’t really understand why so many people do, actually. but if i had to vote, i would say ct scans should require helper people (if they would actually help instead of being buffoons and making more trouble than anything else) or taxi drivers. getting home (or, in this case, to the pharmacy) after this is going to be interesting (as it was last time). oh well.

hey - we can go to seiverville, tennessee and go shopping! and see dolly parton!! and ride some sort of single-person indy-styled karts!!! doesn’t that make you want to rush to the airport (or kill your tv)?

yeah, remission. if it happens, little dog might need to go stay at the pet ranch for a while while i jump in the car and take some travel time. i’ve not been to canon beach for a while, so that might need to be on the agenda. bc, of course, is a given. montana, well, i think it’s snowing there right now, and i don’t really want to drive in snow. now. later is another day. one can never tell what i might decide. if i get to decide.

on a more concrete note, mum’s birthday presents are slated to arrive on wednesday. ‘course this in and of itself is going to cause yet more fighting, irritation and annoyance but i can’t, i won’t care anymore. i’ve got better things to care about. like whether or not monkeys make good pets.

later today is a day of reading, learning, and meetings - the last of which has the pleasure of a software engineer being the guest of honour. if i try hard enough, maybe i can gnaw off my feet before then so that i can have yummy, bloody stumps to bash again the floors. i’m sure he’s going to be very nice. like an inbred, hungry rottweiler is nice. but at least i have that human origami thing to look forward to. whee ha!

well it’s time to get to sleep, to rest, to prepare for later. actually, it was time a number of hours ago, but now it’s really time.  short pop is walking around the living room plotting my demise. i’m hungry (as usual) but nothing tastes worth eating (as usual). all is well with the world (as usual).

oh my…it’s been a long week. work has been busy. treatment happened (and sucked as it usually does). i bought new knives (and a sharpener - gotta love amazon) and might get new pots (despite the fact mine are ancient they’re still in perfect condition because they’re tools - but my cooking style has changed sooooo much, though, i think they’re feeling unloved and unappreciated - so it might be time to gift them to someone that’s going to love them as much as i do). my back hurts (thanks to the chemo) unless i’m resting on the wedge. i’m sleepy. i might be in remission. i’ve made arrangements for a certain “group” to be gifted with very large-pawed puppies within the next three weeks. (it’s a cutie group, that’s for sure. and it’s not one of those stupid, inbred pure-breed groups.) i “played” (sent messages - none of those super poke things that can end up with a 2 X 4 to the head) on facebook with a group of new “recruits” (aka people who got sucked into the time suck invented by a group who is not even the demographic). a colleague proved that “lazy-assed” gamers can contribute a hell of a lot more with little to no solicitation than the clueless susan komen “i am celebrating *me* by raising a shitload of money for some admin’s pocketbook because i’m too clueless to know better or, *shock*, do my research” can. (do “the voice”, people. do” the voice”. and by all means wear pink head to toe because we all know how important pink is.)  i managed to only be forced to buy only two (!!!) “pink” useless, lying products this week (and prided myself in *not* mentioning to the guy in line behind me - the guy controlled by his “pink” wife who is just too clueless to understand - that the yoplait “pink labels” he spent so much time picking is nothing but a lie and in fact contributes to the propagation of the disease, not the cure - let’s hear it once more for corporate amerika and self-induced brain-deadness). yeah, it was a long week. the normal. the usual. ish.

and i’m hungry.

poop.

well, at least dear S helped me out with my tennis ball hair (which has to go asap - it’s fugly to the 25th degree and feels like something  one would find at the bottom of a very dirty dry laundry basket). and at least i know that dumbasses mean more in this world than people who do their homework and research and don’t rely on tv. guess i should go watch fox news now. or something.

nah…

instead, i’m gonna go get ready for the fun of later (5.5 hours later in fact) today: a conference call. on a toll number. that we can’t claim. that’s sure to announce something as interesting as obama running for president. yeah. that interesting.

first things first. i am not keeping anything from anyone. this is not the average cancer we’re dealing with here - so, please, if i say i don’t know it means i don’t know. it’s not that simple and as i find out you’ll find out. it’s not susan koman type cancer. not everything is tied to a brand name hawked by oprah and cnn and pushed by every other brand to try to make a profit through the promise of a (minuscule) donation. anyway…

i had my iv infusion today (as i do every third tuesday) and got some news. since i prefer to go “bad to good” that’s what i’ll do.

bad news:

i am not in remission.

i am on the road to being well - but not quite there yet.

good news:

my latest ct scan looks so incredibly good it made me cry. the cancer is still there - but it’s so much less than it was back in may when i had the first ct scan. the spots and lymph node swellings are about a tenth of what they were three months ago.

my doc gave me a break until september - so he only had me infused with herceptin today. in september we’ll determine which of the other two we’ll add back to the mix. this will give me time to get the neuropathy on the road to healing before we aggravate it again.

he’s all for my trying to bubble the skin off with a footbath. now i’ve just got to get it set up under my ottoman (which is under my desk) so i can bubble and work simultaneously. he’s hopeful that if i can get the dead skin completely off and keep it off it will let the nerves start to heal and maybe even aid the swelling in going down.

and he’s mandated that i keep the routine i’ve established for myself up. it’s working - and now is not the time to disturb it. this is going to offend some people in my life - but it is my life and i have to live it in a manner that works for me.

i could, very well, be on chemo of some sort for the rest of my life - but that’s ok. at least the past 9 weeks of my life have shown i can get well. so here’s to my getting well.

thank you all for your love, support, good vibes and prayers. it means so much more than i can express.

i owe a few of you a personal email. it’ll be on its way shortly.

today should have been busy, but relatively painless. i was to report at providence st. peter’s hospital in lacey at 12:45 pm for a 1:00 pm ct scan. well i did arrive on time - but then had to trek 7 minutes to get from the parking lot to the facility. (valet parking might be nice, considering how much we pay you folks - and especially most of us can’t walk very well.) regardless i arrived and took a seat in the waiting area. around 1:00 pm i was called back to meet with one of the coordinators. why you ask? because they had no record of my appointment, despite the fact my  “how to prepare for the ct scan” memo was p/st. p branded - and i received a confirmation call from the providence scheduling department on friday. net-net and without going through 15 minutes and 10 phonecalls by the coordinator i was in the wrong facility. i should have been at western washington oncology.

they were “kind” enough to let me come right over despite the fact the mistake was theirs.

idiots.

by the time i wound my way through traffic and arrived at wwo i was so pissed off and my feet so swollen. i was foul. did it stop there? oh no…they completely forgot about the other appointment - to have my port looked at to see how it’s doing - and they didn’t know if they could fit that in since i missed the appointment i didn’t even know about.

you don’t need to know what transpired next. i’m sure you can picture it in your mind.

net-net: i got the port review, the ct scan *and* my doc’s email address so that i can actually contact the office and not go through the usual vm crap which only ever turns out badly anyway - and so i can tell put it in writing that i WILL NOT take antidepressants for the neuropathy - give me something to fix it, not make me sleep through it.

cannibal is on my hit list this week. why do i pay $350 for a 15-minute doctor’s visit every three weeks when i haven’t seen him since the first week of june? surely, cannibal junior doesn’t garner that rate. and why in the hell doesn’t he listen to what cannibal junior is telling him about the state of my feet and hands? i’ve seen the notes she’s written. does he not know how to read?

yeah. i’m in a foul mood.

the port review went just as i thought it would (after i pried myself out of the non-review appropriate shirt i wore since i didn’t know i about the stupid appointment). if you recall, i mentioned that they place the port in such a position that it doesn’t interfere with bra straps. that’s true. it doesn’t. but what they don’t do is place the port in a position that’s appropriate for one’s body type and bmi. so now i have a skin covered box with two purple entry/exit spots right where my bra cup would lay if i could even wear one. nice one guys. would you like to pay for the sports camis i’ve had to buy to accommodate? oh and because i’m so athletically built the damned thing sticks out through my shirts and is more than a little obvious. anyway, i’ve been complaining about this and being told “it will be fine when the swelling goes down don’t you worry”. well the swelling is down and it looks like crap - and today’s reviewer confirmed that. nice that med professionals need other med professionals for all confirmations. whatever.

the ct scan was its usual non-event. breathe in, hold it, breath out, repeat five or so times, done. five minutes start to finish.

so the appointment that should have been done by 1:15 finally finished up at 3:15. it was only then that i got to go to fm to lay in the supplies for the next two weeks that i can’t get at the stores that are only within a mile of my house (just in case i can’t get there or don’t want to make the effort to get there). yeah, i was supposed to do that earlier during my recovery week but due to way too much drama to deal with that didn’t happen. neither did enough recovery. so i’m starting the next cycle with little let-up on the pain, no let-up on the skin issues on my feet and hands, and no let-up on the full-body flaking skin.

don’t worry. i won’t post pictures.

or maybe i will

when i first created this blog i created it with the premise of providing a sometimes humourous, sometimes raw, always real look into my life. well some things happened this weekend that, at this moment, are preventing me from sticking to that premise. i’m going to interrupt this blog one more time to address those things. then it’ll be back to the fun and games. onward we go.

now (and based on an article i read on saturday night)…

i have cancer. pick a stage or type - it doesn’t matter. anyway…i have cancer and am going through chemo. you and i are getting ready to go out to the store to buy whatever. it doesn’t matter. i’m tying my shoes. it takes me ten minutes to tie my shoes. it hurts to tie my shoes.

scenario 1: you think i’m overreacting and being lazy - and tell me to hurry up (and use that voice, that tone, to say those words).

i am not overreacting. i am not being lazy. it hurts. and i’m doing the best i can. it takes me ten minutes, so you’re just going to have to wait because your standing there telling me to hurry up in that voice, that tone of yours is only going to make what’s already a bad situation even worse. don’t tell me i’m overreacting or being lazy because i’m not. and don’t tell me it doesn’t hurt because it does.

scenario 2: you jump in. “here let me do this for you” - and fawn all over me - and smother me - then get your feelings hurt when i say “no” and push you away.

this is mine to deal with. if i want your help i’ll ask. right now what i need is to do it myself. and it hurts. and it takes ten minutes.

scenario #3: you do something to amuse yourself with while i tie my shoes.

scenario #4: you can’t wait so you go on without me.

two of the four scenarios above are appropriate responses. two are not.

my world today is not “normal” by your standards, but it is “normal” by mine. you know that microwave dinner that’s “7 minutes from freezer to plate”? it takes me a good hour to get the same microwave dinner from the freezer to the plate. i don’t move quickly these days. i move at a pace i’m happy with and comfortable with. it’s my new routine and your trying to alter this routine is only going to result in my disliking you - but more so, feeling horrible about myself because i can’t live up to your standards right now (and, probably, never will be able to again). and if i feel horrible about myself there’s no reason for me to continue this fight.

does this make sense?

cancer is not a team sport.

cancer is the patient dealing with what (s)he needs to deal with on her/his own terms. if the patient wants help (s)he will ask for it. but it is hers/his to deal with. be kind, be a friend, be supportive by letting the patient deal and feel good about her/himself. don’t take away her/his self esteem.

the day after my diagnosis the hospital’s head of occupational therapy dropped by for a visit. she was a young woman - early 30s maybe - and one hell of a blunt talker.

“you hear those people who say ‘i survived stage 4 cancer’? that’s bullshit. nobody ’survives’ stage 4 cancer. to ’survive’ means to be cured - and there is no cure for cancer that advanced. what there are, though, are ways and means for people with stage 4 cancer to get well and go on living life with a good quality of life. and do so for quite a long time.”

when she said those words to me i laughed out loud because of her honesty, her candor, and the pissed-off tone of her voice. she then went on to talk about those eternally teary-eyed women dressed head-to-toe in susan koman gear (”walking fucking billboards for the brand they’ve made that woman’s name into”) that the media likes to spotlight - but we won’t go there because it would surely offend most people because most won’t get the context.*

she also said this - and this is something you really need to pay attention to:

“yeah, those people who walk around saying ‘i survived cancer’ when what they did was survive living some part of life with someone who had cancer? liars. the only way someone survives cancer is to get cancer, get treated for it and survive it.”

does this make sense?

cancer is not a team sport.

of all the words i’ve read, all the word i’ve heard, though, i think what my friend mary wrote is the best. i’ve pulled this from the comments section of one of my posts:

“I guess the reason I keep reading your blog is that after all these YEARS I can finally read what I’ve been living! At times I think that I am a walking version of (insert name/relationship)’s worst nightmare. Thus when they see me they worship/despise, love/hate, admire/admonish me. The phrase that literally stabs my heart is the one, “we are going to BEAT this thing.” Well, boys and girls, what if I don’t, am I a failure?

“It is like having your entire house burn down to the ground. I don’t think people could imagine rebuilding the same house in the same spot and then resume normal living as if nothing had ever happened. No, being diagnosed with a “terminal”l illness (i.e. stage 4 cancer) leaves the past in ashes. I now have the chance to re-determine how/where/why I want to live. I’d appreciate all the love and support I can get, but this isn’t a team effort….WE can not BEAT this thing. WE, however, can continue to live each and every day, happy/sad, content/angry, giving/selfish….. But from this point on, I am a different person, living in a different house and enjoying a much different view of the world outside and inside me.”

i’d like to end this post with something appropriate, something profound, something that ties everything together into a neat little package and drives everything home. i don’t know what that something is, though. so, instead, i’ll end with this:

this is my disease. i’m comfortable with it. i accept it. i’m angry, sure, of course i am - but that anger is only going to help my fight. and i am fighting. but i need to fight in my own way. i am not you - and “normal” to me is not “normal” to you. don’t expect it to be. i have self-esteem. i need to keep that self-esteem up at a decently high level. i cannot be made to feel i’m letting you down by not living up to your expectations of what i should be right now. without that “fight”, without that self esteem, i’m dead today, not tomorrow - and i’m not ready yet.

do not love me to death.

and now, back to the fun and games.

*please don’t get me wrong. i have nothing but the greatest admiration and respect for susan koman. she was one excellent lady with a good heart - and i wish her nothing but the greatest possible in the next “this life”. what i have no respect for - disdain and hatred for, in fact - is how the media has taken her name and capitalised on it. and how corporations are using her name to pimp their shit. “a portion of the sale of this product goes to the susan koman cancer foundation.” sure. how much. a pink stand mixer? what portion of the sale of that $300+ product went to the foundation? or the pink blender? or the susan koman branded box of kraft dinner? christ you would think with all the pink crap that’s sold in this year alone there would have been enough donations made to the foundation to find ten cures for ten different types of cancer. have any cures been found? nope. why? because only a fucking penny of the sale of that kraft dinner went to the foundation. and only four cents from the sale of that blender went. and only $3 of the sale of that mixer went. as for the teary-eyed women clad head to toe in koman-wear…no comment. all i can say is if you’re so brand driven as to let your body be a billboard - and get in front of the camera dressed in that billboard - you won’t get my words anyway. so i’ll shut up now.

(please excuse the minimal number of characters that require the shift or caps lock key to be used. the hands aren’t cooperating.

before the SHTF situation yesterday (and, yes, AW, what i’m being put through is a true, real life, more likely to happen than major disaster SHTF situation than those things you and the WOGgie Doggies muse about - think about that and act and plan accordingly - seriously - because if anything ever happens to you your parents will do the same thing to you - they’re all cut from the same cloth, after all) and when i was still feeling happy and content with life, i ran out to fred meyer to pick up some supplies (more milk - i should just get this delivered instead of having to replenish every three days) and some things on the “need to buy” list (which is comprised of those things i either can’t buy online or don’t make sense to buy online). these little trips always amuse me in so many ways because of the “human condition” variables involved. some of the “variables” i encountered during that 2-hour trip were:

(1) a twentysomething guy ripping apart the racks of u-dub branded sports gear - and pulling out tee-shirts and other lightweight items of clothing. by the time he was done he had a good 20 items in his basket;
(2) a thirtysomething mummy with two little ones in tow trying to maneuver the ridiculously sized “play cart” (a shopping cart that looks like a mini-castle, is made of plastic and offers a “play area” that’s as large as the grocery holding area) through the aisles of the clothing section - and bonking it (and, subsequently, the children) into everything - and knocking clothes off of racks and shoes off of shelves and people out of the way . i’m so sure there’s a reason why these stupid play carts exist - and i’m so sure there’s a reason why they have to be half the size of my car - and i’m so sure there’s a reason why children need to be wheeled around stores in them. the poor mum was trying so hard to control the thing and, i think, realising it was a dumb idea to try to push something that outweighed her and was 4′ wide through the teeny tiny aisles.
(3) various store employees trying to unbox and put up stock while also dealing with the “back to school sale” saturday shoppers.

I managed *not* to get my toes run over by other shoppers’ carts - which is a good thing because shopping carts + slippered, neuropathy riddled feet = sure and blinding pain.

and speaking of slippers, not only did i have to buy another pair - but i had to put them on right in the store. (i was completely out of footwear that fit - this is one bad treatment month.) i have a really stylish pair of tan mocs now. guys size 10. they’re smexy. (excuse my while i go clean up the puddle of sarcasm that just fell out of my mouth.

a few months ago i purchased a book written by a performance artist that is based on grocery lists she’s found in random places around la. she created personae to go along with these lists - and, with the help of a photographer, “made human” the shoppers she thought would be associated with the found lists. i wonder what she would do with this:

(1) file folders;
(2) gloves;
(3) slippers;
(4) jewellery box;
(5) pens;
(6) candle torch;
(7) milk;
(8) immune boost.

of the entire list, the only thing with any “fun factor” is the jewellery box i chose. it’s actually a lockable pencil box, black metal with silver metal tab corners, padded with felt and with a few mesh pockets. it works well for the intended purpose and looks cool to boot. i looks like a mini lighting case.

i also ended up with some cheapo workout camis. they’re a size medium and way too big around my 32 (c cup - just so you guys don’t think i’m built like a 10 year old) inch chest - but i can get them over the power port without them getting stuck on it and sending me into a fit of pain and a barrage of swearing. of course the purpose of spandex (which is what they’re made of) is totally lost here, but it works and provides at least a bit of support.

the most exciting purchase is the one i’m wearing now, though. it’s froggy jammie bottoms - sky blue with with antifreeze green happy smilie froggies, black-centered white daisies and black, green and white circles. they make me want to jump up and down and do the pogo. alas, that’s not a option. by jump number three i’d be attached to the ceiling by my overly-strong finger nails and not have any way of getting down.

oh and i ended up with some diabetic socks - little ped type things that are padded enough to cushion my pained feet and have no elastic in them - so no pressure on the swelling. now i’m not sure if these things would be useful at all if it weren’t for the swelling - but right now they’re just right. besides fred meyer was having a “buy two get one free” sale so they were cheap. they’re no where near as cool and fun as the katy sockies (which make me do the happy dance in my mind every time i put them on) - but they’re not meant to be. they serve a single purpose; nothing more. when all is said and done they’ll make nice dust mitts.

when i finally made it over to the dairy aisle yesterday, i ran into a crowd of people in scooters with crutches contained in the back baskets. it was surreal. picture 10+ people in scooters all zoom-zooming through the dairy section totally not caring about the rest of us and making us jump out of their respective ways. ‘a group of visitors from a rehab facility, maybe? or a hidden camera vignette for a tv show? regardless, it was curious. but they really should require the folks that drive those things to have to pass some sort of drivers safety test. or at least prove to them “this is not a toy” by showing them what could happen if they drive one of their 350+ pound (inclusive of body weight) scooters over someone. ‘not, of course, that they’d care, though. it’s been my experience that people who drive those scooters have little respect for lives other than their own. (did i ever tell you about the time when i was living in white rock and one of the seniors in a scooter chased a child down the canned goods aisle while his poor mother stood on and watched with a look of total terror on her face? i managed to grab the kid and scoop him up and out of the way just before crazy scooter senior lady ran him down. she did manage to hit him. his mum was so happy and thanked me repeatedly. crazy scooter senior lady saw me in a different aisle a while later and cursed me out. something about how children shouldn’t be allowed to be in the grocery without being in a cart seat. the boy was about 6 or so, mind you.)

now no trip to the grocery is complete without some bitching out the cashier. yesterday was no exception:

Cashier to woman in front of me: “Hello. How are you? Did you find everything alright?”
Woman in front of me: “No. Not that I ever do when I come here. There’s never anyone here to help. I don’t know why I bother.”

She went on to mutter about the store’s lack of employees for the duration of her check-out.

At this point it should be made know that, if anything, Fred Meyer has too many employees about and there to help. And not even do they answer your questions about products’ locations - they take you to them.

Le sigh.

Human condition. Who people are. What they do. Why they do it. How they do it. Two hours in an early saturday afternoon at Fred Meyer will give you so much insight. And it’s cheaper than a college-level class. Usually.

So with yesterday and the most of today done i am, once more, in the happy zone. i spent time with friends. i spent time enjoying the perfect afternoon (80 degrees and pure blue sky). i spent time in the routine that works for me. and i have new froggie jammie bottoms.

a yummy veggie and fresh mozzarella naan pizza is in the works for dinner (despite the fact naan tastes just horrible to me - if i cover it with enough sauce, veggies and mozzarella i can mask it enough to make it less annoying). a smoothie will be the late night snack. with protein powder and supplements to supplement.

pleasures.

(simple)

and smilie froggy jammie bottoms!!!

(and more so)

Do you know how it feels when you find out the person you trusted the most in this world isn’t trustworthy? And do you know how it feels to be told someone’s need to see you outweighs your own need to deal with your disease the way you want to (and have been) and need to in order to get to the point of getting well?

That’s how I feel right now.

I’ve written hundreds of words to post here but I’m going to refrain and go back to what’s important in my life right now: Dealing with my disease, dealing with Little Dog, enjoying the weather, working on my projects (both work related and person), spending time with my friends (despite the fact a certain one of you has been telling our mother I don’t have any friends - why, because my life isn’t like yours and the word “friend” means something far different to me than it does to you), relaxing and loving this beautiful world - a world that is not yours - I live in.

When I left for the West Coast people wondered why I went “underground”. This is why.

I’m going back under now.

Well word got leaked to the cousins on my dad’s side of the family that I’m dealing with this thing. (Note: I don’t care about the cousins knowing. I cared about word not getting to my dad until the time was right, what with all his health issues and all - and with the cousins knowing I was put at risk.) So I spoke with dad today and gave him the full scoop.

Dad: “Well, that doesn’t sound very good.”

Me: “It is what it is.”

Dad: “Yeah, you’re right.”

And then we talked about his crazy dog.

Gotta love dads. They’re good for a reality check and facing what’s real in this world.