thisismydisease.com

Or should I say where the wild thing is.

It’s under my bedroom window.

Which is open.

And it’s dead.

After removing today’s chapeau and ridding the stinky ‘tween boy smell from my head (let’s hear it for fiery curry cologne), I ventured on to the second and final stop of the afternoon: QFC. Since I’d already said “fuck all” to the whole thing, I was prepared for “come what may”.

Encounter #1 - A woman in the bottled water aisle: [looks me in the eyes, smiles, nods].

Encounter #2 - My pharmacist, Michelle: “Hey you did it [rubs head - laughs heartily] - don’t forget the sunscreen.”

Encounter #3 - One of the “do all” guys: “How are you today? Enjoying the heat?”

Encounter #4 - Another one of the 16 year old bag girls: “[laughs loudly, points finger at me, rubs head, smiles] Looks good!”

The heat of the past few days is giving way to more seasonable temperatures. Charley is barking at air. Little dog is snoozing in front of the door. And the unevents of the day have led to an uneventful night.

All’s well.

You know that smell that babies emit right after they’re bathed and lotioned and powdered? And you know that smell their scalps give off - that gently sweet “there is nothing whatsoever wrong in this world” smell?

My scalp doesn’t smell like that.

When I first ventured out this afternoon, I decided to don a little cap to protect my head from the sun - and protect others around me from its nakedness. Well it was frickin’ africa-like here today*. The hat lasted only 7 or so minutes before I had to tear it off and just say “fuck all”.

You know that smell that pre-teen boys emit when they’ve been building up a sweat playing sports or video games or anything that requires “energy” - and forgot to wash for the past however many days/weeks/months/years?

That’s what my scalp smelled like.

‘Bout knocked myself out.

Note to self: Lotion and powder head before donning cap-type headwear. Have bottle of cologne handy in case of olfactory disturbing accident.

 

 

 

 

 

*Not really. It was just a lot hotter than it usually is at this time of year. And dryer. Arid almost.

Do not, do not, do not, FOR THE SAKE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY DO NOT wash your butt-naked scalp with peppermint castile soap unless you *want* a red head (literally).

Don’t ask me how I know this.

It this summer weather is already getting to you (and I can’t see why it wouldn’t be - it clocked in at 98 degrees here today, and that’s nothing compared to what some of you have been dealing with), do yourself a favour:

1. Shave your head.
2. Open refrigerator door.
3. Put your head inside.
4. Look around for moldy leftovers, stale milk and all of those other special things that tend to gravitate toward the back.
5. Remove and dispose of culprits.
6. Remove your head from inside.
7. Close door.

You’ll feel much, much better. Truly.

Toting and storing 7-pound bags of ice is not particularly fun or good for one’s heath. Picture trying to wedge a sack into a standard freezer filled with far less food than average, only to realise a major reorganisation needs to be made before said sack will even remotely fit. Meanwhile, picture said sack of ice commencing the melting process. Now fast forward a few hours when you go to retrieve some of the cubes from said sack. Feel the pain as said sack falls out of the freezer and onto your foot (not shoeless, thankfully). Scream more obscenities than previously known to all men and women of all cultures. Now and in light of the previous commencement of the melting process and subsequent refreezing, *try* to pry a few cubes off the now solid block without damaging your knife, your kitchen counter, your kitchen floor, your dog (who’s underfoot, as usual) or yourself. No matter how you look at it, this is a lose-lose situation.

Enter the portable tabletop ice maker. Originally designed for small-quarters living (boats, RVs and the like), this handy little gizmo is making its place in kitchens worldwide. It’s quick. It’s economical. It offers cube size choice. And, most of all and since it’s “on demand”, it enables you to make only as little or as much as you’d like or need.

Oh, and the cubes themselves are so cute! They’re cup shaped.

Right now, I’ve got enough cubes made to get me through the night’s and tomorrow’s smoothies and other drinks. And, I’m no longer running the risk of bodily harm by having a weighty flimsy sack fall on my foot.

Life on the rocks is pretty darned good.

In response to the “Aye Matey” my friend Babz left this comment:

“I suggest some kohl eyeliner (available at Kohl’s?), fake rasta braids, a frock coat and a sword. Very PC.”

What…you mean something like this?

Yeah, I like it too - but I’m not fond of the price. This one is more in the considerable price range. Coupled with a pair of these and I think I’d have a winning combination. Either that or a 72-hour involuntary committal to the local mental ward.

As some of you know despite the fact I’ve not blogged about it, one of the effects of one of the chemos is this thing called “hand, foot and mouth syndrome” (which is not to be confused with “foot and mouth disease”, although they do share some of the same physical manifestations). This syndrome can cause one’s feet to feel like one is walking over a bed of nails - and also cause one’s feet to shed skin in both large and small patches. I won’t go into what it can cause one’s hands and mouth to do since, thankfully (???) I’m only dealing with the feet portion - and this is all about me, remember? Anway…

I’ve got the “bed of nails” things under control, thanks to high doses of vitamin B6. It’s the shedding that’s problematic.

A few days ago, I was talking to my sister about my plight and recounting to her my pre-shower route: Take a sit. Remove socks if wearing. Put garbage can within reach. Peel as much of the lose skin off as possible. Shower. Dry off. Apply salve. Don socks.  That’s when she mentioned this handy little gizmo: The Ped Egg.

Since I’m such a big fan of gizmos and the like I took a look at it. Unfortunately, I had to discount it due to the fact I can’t use any sharp or rough or less than silky soft objects on my skin right now.  Skin is too thin. ‘Makes getting flake-free a challenge. But I digress. I spent some time looking at the product and watching the commercial. For some reason it looked familiar. Really, really familiar. But I couldn’t place what it looked like.

And then it dawned on me.

It looks like this. Well the top part, that is.

I have one. ‘Got it on sale for $2.99.

Maybe once the skin thickens up I’ll give it a try.

Necessity is not the mother of invention. It’s the mother of improvisation.

Day One of going out with the new doo brought blazing sun and intense (for here, at least) heat. With plans to reveal the new me to the local population thwarted (I was not about to find out what sunburn on a naked head feels like), I had to come up with an appropriate alternative. Bicep-baring black babydoll tee?* Check. Skinny high-tech fabric pants? Check. Dangly earrings? Check. Pink and orange and yellow woven scarf tied oh so pirate-like in the back and jauntily knotted? Check. And sandals and sun glasses, of course.

With my outfit pulled together, off I went to my first stop of the day: Cabelas - the last bastion of he-men PNW rednecks and suburban milktoasts all co-mingling amidst the stuff animals and ammo boxes. I figured if I could survive in this testosterony environment I could survive anything.

Once out of the car and on the way toward the store I encountered my first “subject” - a man with his young son blathering on about something outdoorsy and trying to get the attention of his wife (who was off to the side smoking and doing her best to ignore him):

Blathering guy: [Blather blather blather blather looks at me and stops dead]
Me: [Stares blathering guy in the eye and smiles]
Blathering guy’s wife: “Will you STOP THAT!!!”

As I walked away she was chastising him for being a doofus.

Alrighty, that wasn’t so bad. At least he didn’t make a comment I could hear. I’ll bet he won’t be getting any tonight, given his wife’s tone.

At the entrance of the store was a really cool little “for all your car camping needs” product set-up. Naturally, this area was crowded with the milktoasts mentioned above and their respective wives and offspring. If you want to bring a bunch of whimpy suburban husbands and wives to silence, don the outfit noted above and head to your local sporting goods store. Well, at least they all got out of my way so I could take a good look at this uberly-cute little tabletop propane stove that was on sale for $49. (I didn’t buy it, though. I’m sure it will go down even more as July progresses.)

Onward to the sunglasses display.

This is where it got really fun.

There was only one other customer in the area to start - this guy somewhere in his ’50s that had just come from a funeral (as he told the Sales Associates while arguing with them about whether or not a certain style of RayBan frames could be fitted with prescription lenses) and who, although very well dressed, smelled like the mens’ room at a ballpark somewhere around the bottom of the 7th inning. Every time I came into this guy’s line of sight he, like the first guy I encountered, stopped dead with this blather. ‘Difference between the two is he didn’t just look at me - he stared at me like I was an alien life form about to remove his weeny little brain with my bare hands. Seriously. He stared at me in fear. The Sales Associates picked up on this and did their best to shoo Mr. Well-Dressed-but-Stinky-Assed along. Finally successful, one of them approached me to see if she could help with my selection. With words exchanged, she handed me a pair of glasses that she thought would fit my needs well.** I put them on.

Me: “Hmmm…I kinda like them. What do you think?”
Sales Associate: “They seem a little wide for your face and…”
Silence. Head down no longer looking at me silence.
Me: “Oh come on, look at me. Do I really look like the type of person that’s going to look normal and blend in?”
Sales Associate: [Huge laugh]

I then explained the scarf wouldn’t necessarily be a part of the plan. I have hats - and more coming. And I looked pretty darned good bald.

In the end, I decided to purchase the glasses she originally recommended. She agreed it was a good choice.

First intended purchase selected? Check.

Next stop - the Womens’ Department.

Whereas the guys in all their respective and collective stupidity were “carefree” enough to gawk at me, the women were at the opposite end of the spectrum. Although the department wasn’t overly-crowded, it was well populated (end-of-season and pre-season bargains to be had, after all). Each women that I encountered demured and looked away. But it wasn’t the “it’s not polite to stare” look away - it was more the “oh shit, that could be me” look away. It was interesting to experience because “truth happens” - and I’m proof to you of that. Anyway…upon arriving at my destination within the department, I busied myself with perusing the offerings when one of the Sales Associates approached.

Sales Associate: “Are you finding everything OK?”
Me: “Yes, thank you.”
Sales Associate (without missing a beat): “So, what type of cancer *do* you have?
Me: [Happily taken aback by her bluntness and honesty]

We spent about ten minutes talking about cancer (which, given her family history, she’s bound to come down with), cool clothes that are warm enough to take care of the chemo chill but not so bulky that they look out-of-place in the summer sun (see below re “impulse purchase), girly camo tote bags (on sale for $10.21 cents), what you *can* buy if you save up your Cabelas points (the answer is anything the store sells - even boats) and a myriad of other things. It was a fun conversation. A real one. An honest one.

Second intended purchase selected?*** Check.

Impulse purchase selected? Check.

On to the final destination - the Camping Department.

The cool things about kids is they just don’t care who you are or what you look like. They’re going to bonk into you regardless. Hard. And then they’re going to look up at you so sincerely as their respective mummies tell them to “pay attention and behave - use your walking feet”.

Bonking into successfully completed, I ventured further into the department to locate my third and final intended purchase.

It should be noted that one could walk into Cabelas’ Camping Department stark naked and with an arm growing out of one’s forehead and nobody would blink an eye, let alone notice. Geez, camping freaks have amazing concentration - and, seemingly, know way too much about the entire range of gear.

(BTW - Cabelas has those fabric camp chairs on sale for $4.99. Blue and green only. Stock up now!)

With the area of the department unsuccessfully combed for my third intended purchase, I decided it was time to call the trip over and ventured toward the checkout. I got in line behind this older couple purchasing some “travelling shirts” for the man.

The man was so cute. He just kept looking at me and smiling and trying to include me in the conversation he was having with the Cashier. It made me wonder if, maybe, he had a daughter or something that had gone through the same thing. He was so easy about it. And he had a great smile.

The woman was another story.

She couldn’t possibly have stared at me more meanly than she did. Dagger-eyes. Frumpy frown. Looked me up and down and up again and scoffed (complete with toss of bleached-blonde hair). I think she might have thought her man was flirting with me. Either that or I really was appalling to her. Or I reminded her of that hypothetical daughter mentioned above - and she didn’t much like the way she behaved “DC”****.

My final encounter was with the Cashier, who was just so perky and small-talkative she had me laughing out loud.

Cashier: “If you’re ever going to go to a casino and make repeated withdrawals from your checking account be sure to notify your bank ahead of time. Trust me on this one.”

(I won’t bore you with how we got from “hello, did you find everything OK” to “casinos + banks”. You had to be there.)

Purchases purchased, off I toddled to the car for the drive back to town and on to the second stop of the day - QFC. ‘Nothing worth mentioning to report here, other than sunscreen is 25% off, but they’re out of SPF 50 in all brands.

All in all and despite everything, it was a fun outing. I got a lot accomplished and got to experience, once again*****, what it’s like to encounter people who are so self-absorbed and self-righteous and under-educated they can’t handle “difference”.

Maybe next time I’ll take a roll of smiley stickers with me - and hand them out to anyone and everyone I encounter - and watch their respective and collective reactions. ‘Have to come up with an appropriate outfit for that one, though. I’m thinking a rhinestone tiara must be worn.

And now, some pictures:

Dangly earrings are fun!

Reading emails upon my return home

Smirking at something, not sure what

 

 

 

 

 

*Yes, I succumbed to “today fashion” and purchased a few babydoll tees last week. They look good when I’m fluid-less, and cover up the fluid when it’s there without making me look like I’ve got a four-month baby bump.

**I ended up with a pair of Oakleys with transitional lenses. They’ll protect my eyes from glare while inside (and, thus, reduce the number of occular migraines I’m subjected to) - and serve as sun shades while outside.

***I replaced the $40 piece of crap “for that money it shouldn’t have frayed within a week of purchase” pocketbook I bought the day before I left Raleigh. Design-wise, the new one isn’t as good - but it’s much better made.

**** “During Cancer”

*****Teen years. For those of you that know me well you know what I’m speaking of. For those of you that don’t it’s not important.

(taken on monday evening just after the hair started falling out)

…and after

(with hat)

(without hat)

I treated myself to a new pair of earrings to go with my new hairdo. oI like ‘em!

Sorry for the horrible quickcam images. Better photos to be uploaded at a later date.