Here’s My Point–In 10,000 Words or Less

Subtitle 1: The Steroids are Raging Through Me and my Neurons Want to Explode

Subtitle 2: This Too Will Pass, I hope

Subtitle 3: This Was my Decision

Subtitle 4: Brain Theory and Emotional Intelligence Revisited

Subtitle 5: False Self & True Self (Seriously pondered during writing but not discussed)


I am writing this to make a point if I can figure out what the point is. My brain is going a million miles a minute and I have sufficient energy to trot up the IH 35 Corridor. Yup, this was chemo day and visit with my oncologist.


I am going to do stream of consciousness writing then maybe try to fix it later. Or I might stop right now and google ‘parts of a term paper.’ I did that and got lost in cyberspace jumping from one interesting topic to another.

Parenthetical Text

Most everyone that I know reads this is far smarter than I. Also they might want to write in and clarify my memory or send me web sites that will help me grow. Don’t. Tonight I am purging not trying to get smarter. Said with love, of course.


We were up at 5:30 so I could look my best for chemo and visit Dr. R. That seems odd to me now that I write it but I don’t have the interest in delving into that right now. We (Len, Susan L, and I) are getting to know the routine, the short cuts, and the power brokers. This is all good. The visit with Dr. R was fine. My lab work and MRI on my bread (also known as head…damn, the chemo brain) is all pretty much normal according to Dr. R… Susan concurred with the lab results.) He kindly endured questions about my ingrown hairs that are all over my scalp. I call that adding insult to injury. Not his enduring, but the ingrown hairs.   Anyway, during this talk he tells me when the hair comes back on my scalp, I can also expect lanugo on my face. I jumped on that one. I KNOW lanugo from child development teaching. Damn, we are talking downy fuzz like fur on my face. Consolation: It will go away in time–I am thinking like 10 minutes or less of time.

We also talked about the lousy chemo scheduling and he said he would try to change that–I suppose by influence…and it looks like it is better now. The problem with the previous schedule is that I couldn’t plan on anything—no pattern to work with for doing things besides having stupid cancer. I think it is better but I will only know when I see it in black and white and I will do that later tonight.

On to the chemo treatment center—Len bought us Starbucks then went on for errands and golfing, which is exactly what I wanted him to do. Another big blur for me. The cocktail, which I asked to be stirred not shaken, has enough Benadryl to take down the Green Bay Packers. So I just don’t remember much about it. The port works to everyone’s satisfaction but I still think it is creepy to see something like a marble under my skin. I deaden the area about 1 ½ hour before with Lidocaine then put Press N’ Seal on top of it so it won’t smear off or onto my clothes. Oh, Dr. R says the port can come out as soon as chemo is over….none of that keeping it in just in case, as far as I am concerned. Out, out, out.


Susan and I went to Saigon Gardens for lunch before going to the grocery store. Back to ingrown hairs. I have been given all kinds of advice about ingrown hairs and I have bought all kinds of products…and who knew there were so many products to get? There is actually a little section in stores for such. I have bought a kind of pumice, but organic, of course, that buffs out all kinds of things. I have THE cleanest scalp in town. Also I dab on any number of other cure-alls. But today, he tells me to get Cetaphil cream. Did that…so now after all the above, I am using something that looks just like Crisco and it feels like it too. This is not the kind of learning I ever wanted.

All right, move on, Suz. I was delivered home walked straight to my bed and slept for about 45 minutes with the alarm set so to be up when Peggie brought me some delicious homemade bread. About this time I hit the wall. Big Wall. First, she was kind and tender-hearted and that did it. I cried for who knows how long. Long after she was gone I was blubbering around the house feeling like my skin was shrinking and at the same time shampooing my wig, cleaning out drawers and looking for things. What can I say? When I read this in two years, I will think, “This is sooo boring,” but I want to remember it. It may make me better in some way. I hope.

Len came home to find me no longer effervescent and scintillating. No–I was wigless, dressed in PJs, and sobbing. He is a prince.

Here is the big ah-ha. I decided to decorate my Toadally Ta-Tas Bra entry for the Harley Davidson event a week from this Saturday. So, I started sorting beer caps and hello, sweet mystery of life, I felt a wondrous calm. Wondrous. And as I am doing all this, I’m remembering snatches of brain theory and KISD Emotional Intelligence Training. I am blissfully not going to get it right here, but I do know that to get out of a limbic , amygdala based frenzy you can self-regulate with a little help from some other part of your brain, which I cannot name at this moment. So there I was, an hour of sorting beer tops and I was a new woman. This might be a spiffy way to conclude. I don’t know what the concluding statement should be….but I should carry a duffle bag of bottle caps around with me and when I start to blow emotional fuses, just sit down at a big table and sort*. Beats sobbing. Tomorrow I will use the hot glue gun and glue Shiner Brock caps on the bra I bought for the Harley Davidson’s display.IMG_1814.jpg  DSC07320.jpg


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