thisismydisease.com

i’m alive. it’s been a long number of days. hopefully i’ll get a break later in the week. just wanted to stop by to say i’m not dead. for better or worse. depending on who you are and which camp you sit it.

i’m craving carrots. have been for the past few days. i’ve been doing my best to find things to curtail this thing and doing pretty well. lo and behold, what was the iron chef challenge today? carrots.

the world just isn’t fair.

when a lot of people find out they have cancer, they go on a buying spree - and buy things they would not normally not only not buy, but not even took twice at. cars. boats. houses. designer dogs. designer kids.

i bought an ice maker.

and some plushies.

and some earrings.

i’m not sure if my mum taught me right or if she taught me wrong.  regardless, i do love that ice maker - and get great pleasure out of the plushies - and spend a good amount of time just admiring the artistry behind the earrings. but i do have to admit it might be nice to say the hell with it and put down the payment on that tiny house aw had been talking about buying.

or i could just buy more plushies. and earrings. i’m good with the ice maker.

why?

while perusing the “crazy sexy cancer tips” book today (and it’s truly one of those “open a page and read it” books, not a “read cover to cover” book), i happened upon a section about the “cancer card” (which i really should start using). here’s what it says:

“faux pas!

“beware of cancer card theft! situations might arise where others may try to use your cancer card on you. i had one friend who used to guilt me into calling her back by leaving really pushy and inappropriate messages on my machine. ‘i’ve called several times, you’re really starting to worry me. are you ok? if you don’t call me back you’ll know what i’ll think. please be considerate and call.’ give me a break! if i were dead you’d be the first person i’d tell.”

*giggle*

and so true.

so now for all you folks that claim you know me but don’t have the foggiest clue: i’m fine. stop calling me to find out if i’m fine - or i’m sleeping. i would be sleeping if you would stop calling me - and every minute i spend not sleeping when i’m trying to makes me feel less fine. i’ll get back to you when i’m rested and this bloody project is done or my teammates have been properly beaten up with tire irons, which ever comes first.

sorry for those of you who wish otherwise, but i am alive and somewhat well. i’m working on this crazy project that has even more politics applied to it than i ever thought possible - so i’m lacking energy and to the point where i just want to sit here and watch the food network watch me. so that’s what i’m going. lazy, yup, that’s me. but not dead.

working. reading. working. writing. chemo tomorrow. then back to working. writing. i hope to get the reading done tonight.

all is well, despite the working reading working writing chemo working writing but not reading.

there’s this hotel on portland everyone who thinks they’re anyone is buzzing about. it’s called the ace hotel. the hipsters (the ones that buy $150 “new and unused” tee shirts they could have found “used and naturally worn out” at goodwill for about $1 or less) have made this “their place”. every blinkin’ magazine is giving the place kudos for being so “hip”, “cool”, “alternative”, “[insert today’s buzz word here]”. but nobody - not one single body - is mentioning the reason why this lame-assed, recycled soda-bottle wearing non-hipster loves the place so much:

the people that work there are nice. genuinely, honestly nice.

i stayed at the ace just a few days before the diagnosis. by day two i was feeling pretty terrible and couldn’t walk more than 50 feet without having to stop and recover (thanks to the respiratory distress).  the folks at the ace, without my asking, saw that i was having some problems and took it upon themselves to try to help me feel as comfortable as possible. they volunteered to get my much-loved stumptown morning iced latte for me (and not go through the usual room service - just call the desk and they’d get it for me). they volunteered to come get my luggage on check-out day. they insisted on taking my luggage out to my car for me (despite the fact i took over 30 minutes to walk the two blocks to the parking area, rested and drove back to the hotel entrance - only to have the lobby filled with checkers-outers). and let’s not even mention the folks at clyde commons, the attached “restaurant of the day” in portland.

i have to admit, i did not eat at clyde commons. feeling the way that i did the idea of getting adverturesome was not something that even remotely came to mind. i went to clyde’s after the seminar each day do to regroup, gather my notes and get away from myself. one day when i walked in and took a seat at the bar, i mentioned to the bartender that i wanted “something”, but really didn’t know what that something was. he just sort of looked at me, then asked “do you like orange juice?” i replied that i did - so he went to the refrigerator and pulled out a glass vial covered with clingwrap. he asked if i like it a little or a lot - to which i replied “pretty much” - so he poured most of the vial’s contents into a glass for me, added a straw and set it in front of me. then stood there. i tasted the orange juice. omg. it was spectacular - perfectly sweet-tart, no pulp, luscious beyond words. as it turned out the bartender had spent the first part of his shift hand-squeezing the juice (which amounted to just over an un-iced glass). it was meant for some of the specialty cocktail hour drinks (all served in iced glasses). i drank almost all of it. he had to go squeeze more. i felt so badly about it i volunteered to pay for the drinks it was meant for. he charged me for a large juice, which was something like $2.

so, yeah, the ace hotel and clyde commons are getting written up everywhere as being “the hip place to see and be seen in portland” which, i’m sure, is helping them get their grounding in and helping them get past the usual “how to get popular quick” dreck that hotels and restaurants have to go through if the press isn’t all over them. for that i’m glad. they’re good establishments - and i look forward to getting well and paying another visit sometime soon. meanwhile and to non-hipster me, they’ll just be two places staffed by very nice people.

and i’ll bet money that if i show up their bald the little hipsters will think it’s cool. (i’ve heard rumour that headshaving is the latest rage among the <28 women in portland. wow. i’m a trendsetter.)

in under 48 hours, everything i was able to rely on, taste wise, for so many months started to taste like the elephant environment at any zoo smells. dinner tonight ended up being 2 chicken tenders and four panko-crusted onion rings - not enough to satisfy the average toddler, let alone me.

desperate times call for desperate measures.

mix a tiny container of kozy shack chocolate pudding with a small chocolate eclair ice cream bar. consume.

the taste was neither good nor bad. it was what it was. the texture was pretty really excellent, though. it wasn’t “pudding with ice cream”. it was “liquid silk with marshmallow cream”. it felt wonderful in my mouth - which is quite the fete considering my mouth feels like a swarm of bees has taken up residence on its right side. but i can’t have another. it was excellent, but i can only tolerate so much “meh”.

i still need about 1000 more calories to meet my requirement for today.

so much for relaxation.

it’s over. the work week is officially over. my wireframes are finished. my notations are finished. my specification would be finished if i could just wrap my feeble brain around one of the measurements. i know it’s right - but for the life of me my brain is keeping me from believing it. i might have to make a physical prototype tomorrow to prove it to myself. or i might  just say the heck with it and catch up on my reading instead. we’ll see what wake-up time brings.

one of my longest-running tastes good drinks - chocolate milk - is starting to taste not-so-good. in fact it’s starting to taste pretty bad. well as long as regular (full-fat and organic) doesn’t fail me i guess i’ll be ok. since i’m getting most of my calories from milk i can’t afford to have it not taste good. i’d have to eat six full boxes of immune boost veggie mix - or three full bags of steamed broccoli (or green beans, or edamame) in order to make up for the intake - and i don’t think my tummy would appreciate that very much. i guess i could force myself to consume four or five large mugs of potato cheese soup each day instead - but see above re tummy, only reverse it.

the skin on my hands and feet are starting to flake again. i’m not sure what’s bringing this on after so long, but it’s happening. and my hands itch like hell for hours on end. (my feet also itch, but not as much or for as long a period of time. yet.) oh well…i had my break and it was nice. now it’s back to the nasty stuff.

well with the work week done i’m going to go treat myself to a little relaxation time before i fall asleep -  and hope that i don’t wake up in a curious position tomorrow morning as i have been for the past few. zachy bear does not like being smothered by kidneys. he fights back with some vile monkey punches that i don’t notice until i get out of bed (and, ultimately, go face-first into a wall, trip over a pair of slippers and step into a trash can - i’m such the physical comedian - yup, sure am).

that’s the number of hours i worked yesterday, despite the fact some a-hole mba-type director dickweed made the comment that because i don’t capitalise i don’t pay attention to detail. can a-hole mba-type director dickweed say “lawsuit”? (probably not - i don’t think they teach words with that many syllables in the south until one gets to phd-level studies.) anyway…

i like the project, but have to admit i’m getting more than ticked off with being given all the crap work nobody else wants to do. in the 19 months i’ve been with the company i’ve gotten to work on only one good project - and although it was approved, verbally, to move forward the boss has put it on the back burner so he can deal with all the junk these mba-types spit everywhere. oh well, if they’re comfortable violating the company’s mission and not being innovate good for them. meanwhile…

i’m going to enjoy the night tonight. i put in ten additional hours on the project today - so i’m going to take some me time, enjoy a few hours doing what i want to do, not bother to set the alarm for  the morning and have a drink or two. i’m having the first right now in fact. needs ice. other than that…

my landlady chose today to have the shed door broken down and replaced. today. almost a year after i moved in here. and a day i had phone meetings that required my full concentration. it’s hard to concentrate when some tools-yielding carpenter guy is pounding the crap out of a door. (i guess he didn’t think to just break the lock with a sledge hammer - then remove the door. whatever.) he brought with him a very nice german shepherd doggie though. i got to see him while he was pooping in my yard and sniffing at my patio door. we don’t talk about what he did to my garbage. other than that…

amber showed up for her bi-weekly visit. the yard folks didn’t show up for their appointment to pull out scrub trees, trim the bushes, etc. little dog is still little dog. and i’m still me.

so off i go to enjoy the 15 minutes left of the day. i might just get all wild and take some minutes from tomorrow and enjoy those as well. there’s no way the a-hole mba-type director dickweeds will be able to figure that one out.