All My Life's a Circus – Step Right Up!
I’m working an entry and thinking up words. To tell you what’s happened in quick little blurbs. I have a new doc, new meds, and less pain. That would be good, man, if I were still sane. Somehow, I can’t do it. The words just won’t come, unless they are rhyming which just isn’t fun. My daughter’s addicted to one nasty cat. You know the one. He wears a striped hat. His way of speaking
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When most people tell you they’re pulling their hair out, it’s an expression. With the chemo crew, it’s pretty literal. Yet another of those Twilight Zone/Oz moments comes when you realize that not only does your hair HURT, but if you touch it, you’re going to shed worse than a Persian cat in July in Alabama. On top of that, it’s not only a constant pain, but you get tinglie, crawlie feelings that sometimes BITE!
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So, how DID I get here? To this strange Cancer Land? Where the language is vaguely foreign and the culture utterly alien–dare I say it? That scary place we all pretend doesn’t exist for fear of contamination and loss of words? We all start somewhere. And if I’m going to go forward from here, I guess I should probably dust this ‘ole blog off and put it to some use. I can’t keep sending out
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