[12:13am]
It's been a long day. So I'll keep this brief, before I fall into slumber.
Yesterday, Liz and I spent a lovely day looking at a new house for rent. This particular place probably wont work out, but it was fun nonetheless. We also spent a good deal of time trying to get me fed -- which is quite harder than it looks when you are limited to restaurants which serve fully cooked food to patrons outdoors.
It's all due to the neutropenia thing. I can't eat uncooked vegetables or anything for that matter: microbes and whatnot. Also, I can't be in crowded places without a hepa-mask on: people with their colds, and whatnot. So, if we want to eat out, we have to eat outdoors. After waiting about an hour for a seat outdoors, we decided to bail and get some take-out.
(Get This: While looking for alternative food options we found a "taqueria" that did not serve burritos! In fact, the lady got a little snippy when I asked for one. Sheesh, no need to get mad at me just because you work in a pseudo-taqueria. Am I wrong?)
Anyhow, I wake up today (Monday), and Liz drops me off at the bart (transit) station. Dutifully, I don my blue hepa-mask and confirm to the world that I am a cancer-infested chemo-eater. It's not a garment to be proud of. I'm sitting there in a train with two signs: on the left, there is a sign for breast cancer awareness; on the right, there is a sign for a leukemia and lymphoma marathon. Then there is these normal people sitting there casually, noting me, and noting the two cancer signs behind me. I can see them feeling the plague upon them, and not wanting to acknowledge it. For you see, I am sick. And society does not like sick people.
But the topic for today is isolation. I need to protect myself from a cold or something because my immune system is so weak. Accordingly, I need to avoid the deadly germ -- to avoid anything which may propagate or spread this evil menace. So, I can't go home.
Unfortunately, my sister and her daughters seem to have caught a bit of a cold at the herbal symposium this weekend. So, after a long day of traveling, I have to establish a new home-base on the boat to the south...and it is a messy boat too :P Still, I was really, really, really, tired at that point. I wanted nothing more than to just lie down. So, before I can lie down, I've got to get situated. Thankfully, Barbara is getting everything arranged while I casually play my Nintendo DS -- otherwise it'd be all too much.
So, writing really helps me vent... but I feel it necessary to point out that I was really quite pissed off about all this. Not at any thing, and especially not toward any person, except... this damn cancer. I just don't like it. It sucks.
But, as I said, writing helps. I'm good now. I'm going to go make some nachos and then go to sleep. Cancer still sucks, but at least I can still gorge myself on nachos. Goodnight.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
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6 comments:
Ah - for you it's nachos, for me it's good old trustworthy chocolate to whom I turn when I'm thoroughly pissed at the world :p
Hope your day got better and you got your head down somewhere comfy. Best to play things safe, though - the common cold isn't quite so common and straightforward in your situation!............xx
Being seen in public wearing a breathing mask is not a negative thing. People will assume first that you are someone with a cold who has the admirable desire to prevent infecting others. After that they might assume you have allergies. The last thing they would think of is that you have cancer. How many people know that for a few kinds of cancer treatments one temporarily becomes immune suppressed and must wear a mask in public? Not many. Very very few.
Very good point.
Right, I would have just thought you were a germaphobe! LOL
I didn't know cancer patients had to wear those either. I would have pegged you as a germophobe too. *hugs* I'm sorry you're so frustrated, and am glad that at least you could have your nachos. <3
People on public transit always stare at me, my bald head, my hickman--they are the most likely to ask blunt questions or say weird things about God, Cancer, or Drugs. But those awkward conversations almost always lead to well wishes or a confirmations that I look good without hair. I kind of like it, actually.
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