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August 2, 2017

We went into Anthropologie yesterday. That's a weird name for a store. Like are they telling us that 2000 years ago clothes and flatware had flower prints and were girly?   

 

Had to get up at 4:45 this morning to drive to Atlanta for treatment. That is a bummer morning on so many levels. It’s hard enough to get up that early when you have to catch a flight to somewhere exciting, but to get up that early to drive to Atlanta for chemotherapy? Hashtag sad 

 

This guy came into the chemo room today and said he had a meeting and needed to be in and out in an hour. He turned the infusion center into his very own Buffalo Wild Wings. Hashtag lunch ready in 15 minutes or it’s free.

 

Part of me hated this person and part of me was amazed. I’m way too passive aggressive to do anything like that. I can barely ask for extra fries at Red Robin. But this guy walked in and just straight up told them he needed to bounce, meanwhile I’m tapping my foot really quickly hoping that they notice. 

 

I had taken a week off from chemo to move and go to a family reunion. But now I’m back. Back to the familiar parking garages and waiting rooms. Back seeing the nurses and the lab techs. Back to seeing the woman who checks me in for my labs. They all wished me a happy belated birthday.

 

That was nice. 

 

Back to fighting. I guess. The longer I have this thing the less I like to think of me fighting it. Whether I like it or not, the cancer is part of me. A part that I would like to go away, but a part of me none the less. The idea of fighting it or battling it feels a little weird.  Am I putting on boxing gloves? Am I MMA’ing these cells? Taking it on with a little Krav Maga? 

 

Plus is it really a fight? If it was just me vs. cancer, it would have won a long time ago. And now I’m calling in reinforcements in the form of really powerful medicine getting pumped through my veins. It’s like killing a deer with a nuclear missile and calling it hunting.

 

Maybe cancer is Catholic and I can guilt it into submission?

 

Can we call it a negotiation? I’m in a negotiation with cancer. The only problem with that is I’m not a good negotiator. Seriously. I’m the worst. Instead of talking a price down, I’ll offer to pay more. I’m at a yard sale:

 

Seller: Books are 50 cents. 

 

Me: Here’s a dollar. I don’t need change. Sorry I even asked. 

 

Seller: You didn’t ask/

 

Me: Fine here’s a five. Everything’s fine! 

 

End of play. 

 

Ok- negotiation is out. How about dealing with it? My dad used to say that when I was in trouble. That he was going to deal with me when I got home. That scared the shit out of me. Deal with me??? I better straighten up fast. 

 

I just don’t think I’m fighting it. I’m making fun of it. I’m doing what my doctors tell me to do it. I’m getting treatment. I’m jogging. I’m walking. I’m napping. I’m writing. 

 

If this is a fight that means one side loses. I don’t want to think of that as a possibility. So if I go all Switzerland and net neutrality on it then I can’t lose because I’m not fighting. 

 

Right? 

 

I have no idea. All I know is that fighting sounds weird. So I’ll just be over here doing… something. 

 

Not sure what yet.  

 

I’ll let you know when I figure it out. 

 

 

 

 

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