Look at me, I'm panic-y! Lousy with cancer-y!
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audi s5,
cancer,
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livejournal,
vacation
When chemo was merely a distant impediment, it was nothing more than an unfortunate hair cut. The past week or so, well, it's been HOLY CRAP I REALLY WOULD RATHER NOT BE INFUSED WITH VOMIT-INDUCING MEDICINE THANK YOU VERY MUCH. On top of that, my psychiatrist switched me from Zoloft to Paxil the week before surgery, since Paxil helps more with the depression that inevitably comes with an OCD and cancer cocktail. Unfortunately, I'm still working my way up to the usual OCD dose. In other words, I may not have been my normal rational self recently.
I performed some spectacular freaking out over a truly minor bend in my semifinal game ticket while we were in Houston. At the time, as far as I was concerned, the world was ending and I was appropriately miserable. Matt was fully aware of what was going on, and that my ever so erratic behavior was highly influenced by my fear of chemo. My cousin and Matt's friend, also known as Seat 3 and Seat 4, were totally confused at first, but I think they finally understood what was going on in my less than sane brain.
On Sunday, we went to the Houston Zoo, one of two worthwhile non-sports attractions in the city. A penny squishing machine in the reptile house was missing its broken sign, so I spent fifty-one cents acquiring half of a poison dart frog penny. Admittedly, under normal circumstances, I would have complained to management. Not only did I get my money back, but they let me keep the problem penny. Oh, and they put up a new sign. I totally taught them a lesson.
While I'm on the subject of the zoo, I should mention that a certain Matt wouldn't let me adopt an Asian river otter. At first he was incredulous that there was actually a sign encouraging adoption, but he still refused even after discovering that adoption was just zoo-speak for a donation to help support a specific animal. Seat 4 encouraged adoption, but he was mostly just trying to mess with Matt. In other words, no new friends for Zero.
Matt wasn't able to stop me from acquiring a giraffe from the gift shop. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to stop a leg from breaking off on the trip home, as I discovered this morning. Not cool.
Monday saw us renting a car to drive to the Space Center, the other worthwhile attraction. What was supposed to be the non-basketball highlight of the trip was best described by Seat 3 as a crappy version of the Liberty Science Center. The only adult activity was the two hour wait for the tram ride to the Saturn V rocket. We decided to skip the line and drive over ourselves. And then it started to rain. My great hope for distraction from bent ticket doom may not have lived up to expectations, but it did provide some temporary amusement. At least until I started thinking about stupid chemo again.
Yesterday I went to work for an attempt at normalcy. The miraculous part was that I actually got my OKRs done for the next quarter. I won't mention the horrible grades I gave myself for last quarter, seeing as how I have a damn good excuse for failing to finish anything. While it was nice to see people again, everyone wanted to know about Operation: Chemo. In other words, I became more and more nervous as the day wore on, until finally I left to retrieve the mutt from boarding and the mom from the aeroport.
The plan was to go out to one last dinner before my world once again collapsed in upon itself to for a black hole of yucky. You'll note that no where in this plan did I mention an asshat forgetting to look left while turning left and smashing in the side of my car. It was my first day of driving since the surgery, so I was driving Matt's non-manual transmission car. He was driving my car, what with his two useful arms, when it was hit. He was absolutely fine. My pretty Audi S5, a car that I absolutely love, well, it's going straight to the body shop.
Matt's car almost got squished when I stopped short to avoid hitting the car in front of me that stopped short. The car behind me ended up swerving into oncoming lanes (thankfully empty lanes) to avoid hitting me.
In case it wasn't remotely obvious, I don't want to go to chemo. But Matt and my mom are rather insistent on the subject. So in one measly hour, I will be flooded with all sorts of chemicals. Whether I want to be or not. Definitely, absolutely, one hundred twenty-seven percent not.
When I was born, I spent some quality time in a neonatal glovebox with a tiny lamb doll that my grandmother bought. My mom brought it with her, so now it can spend some quality time in the oncologist's office. Yay?
I am done rambling as I am about to be dragged out the door. Totally voluntarily.
I performed some spectacular freaking out over a truly minor bend in my semifinal game ticket while we were in Houston. At the time, as far as I was concerned, the world was ending and I was appropriately miserable. Matt was fully aware of what was going on, and that my ever so erratic behavior was highly influenced by my fear of chemo. My cousin and Matt's friend, also known as Seat 3 and Seat 4, were totally confused at first, but I think they finally understood what was going on in my less than sane brain.
On Sunday, we went to the Houston Zoo, one of two worthwhile non-sports attractions in the city. A penny squishing machine in the reptile house was missing its broken sign, so I spent fifty-one cents acquiring half of a poison dart frog penny. Admittedly, under normal circumstances, I would have complained to management. Not only did I get my money back, but they let me keep the problem penny. Oh, and they put up a new sign. I totally taught them a lesson.
While I'm on the subject of the zoo, I should mention that a certain Matt wouldn't let me adopt an Asian river otter. At first he was incredulous that there was actually a sign encouraging adoption, but he still refused even after discovering that adoption was just zoo-speak for a donation to help support a specific animal. Seat 4 encouraged adoption, but he was mostly just trying to mess with Matt. In other words, no new friends for Zero.
Matt wasn't able to stop me from acquiring a giraffe from the gift shop. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to stop a leg from breaking off on the trip home, as I discovered this morning. Not cool.
Monday saw us renting a car to drive to the Space Center, the other worthwhile attraction. What was supposed to be the non-basketball highlight of the trip was best described by Seat 3 as a crappy version of the Liberty Science Center. The only adult activity was the two hour wait for the tram ride to the Saturn V rocket. We decided to skip the line and drive over ourselves. And then it started to rain. My great hope for distraction from bent ticket doom may not have lived up to expectations, but it did provide some temporary amusement. At least until I started thinking about stupid chemo again.
Yesterday I went to work for an attempt at normalcy. The miraculous part was that I actually got my OKRs done for the next quarter. I won't mention the horrible grades I gave myself for last quarter, seeing as how I have a damn good excuse for failing to finish anything. While it was nice to see people again, everyone wanted to know about Operation: Chemo. In other words, I became more and more nervous as the day wore on, until finally I left to retrieve the mutt from boarding and the mom from the aeroport.
The plan was to go out to one last dinner before my world once again collapsed in upon itself to for a black hole of yucky. You'll note that no where in this plan did I mention an asshat forgetting to look left while turning left and smashing in the side of my car. It was my first day of driving since the surgery, so I was driving Matt's non-manual transmission car. He was driving my car, what with his two useful arms, when it was hit. He was absolutely fine. My pretty Audi S5, a car that I absolutely love, well, it's going straight to the body shop.
Matt's car almost got squished when I stopped short to avoid hitting the car in front of me that stopped short. The car behind me ended up swerving into oncoming lanes (thankfully empty lanes) to avoid hitting me.
In case it wasn't remotely obvious, I don't want to go to chemo. But Matt and my mom are rather insistent on the subject. So in one measly hour, I will be flooded with all sorts of chemicals. Whether I want to be or not. Definitely, absolutely, one hundred twenty-seven percent not.
When I was born, I spent some quality time in a neonatal glovebox with a tiny lamb doll that my grandmother bought. My mom brought it with her, so now it can spend some quality time in the oncologist's office. Yay?
I am done rambling as I am about to be dragged out the door. Totally voluntarily.
2 comments:
I think it's huge that you're recognizing that this panic is induced from the cancer. And that Matt is helping you through it. You are not your disease. This is not you. You'll get through this; it might get better, but you'll certainly get better at dealing.
I am really glad that Matt's okay from the car crash. And I hope your car recovers, too.
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