"Carpe the ___ out of this Diem." I think you can intuit the original, which really cracked me up. However, I felt I ought to pixelate it for immature audiences. It was a day of family & friends. In other words, it was a very good day.
It started with a call from my brother, who was making inquiries about my upcoming trip to Houston. During our discussions, I mentioned that lucky for me I still have my port, which is a device implanted under my skin on my chest with a catheter that drops into my vena cava an inch or so above where it enters my heart. This is used primarily for delivering chemo but can also be used for blood draws and IVs. That means when I go to MD Anderson, I pop over to the infusion clinic first thing and they access the port with a single needle stick and then I'm good to go for the rest of my stay. When they pull my labs, they just get blood out of that. When I go for my CT, they can put the contrast in through the port too. If you hate needles in veins like I do, it's a good thing. So when I told my brother I felt fortunate to still have the sucker, he started laughing. Not having any clue why that was funny, he then explained that my glass half full was turbo-charged. He then said as an engineer, my glass really wasn't half full or half empty, rather it was imprecisely measured. Or something to that effect - he's an engineer.
Around noon, my two best buddies learned I intended to spend my afternoon prepping for the visit with my doc. I've been wanting to start thinking down the road a bit. IF this is another metastasis, we're most likely talking additional surgery and more chemo. They thought I ought to have help, so they piled in the car and drove the hour up to my place to help me white board a giant flow chart of possibilities and options. Either that, or it was a good excuse to enjoy National Margarita Day (yes, that is really a thing), and they knew I'd be easily led astray. Well, we did do our homework:
It started with a call from my brother, who was making inquiries about my upcoming trip to Houston. During our discussions, I mentioned that lucky for me I still have my port, which is a device implanted under my skin on my chest with a catheter that drops into my vena cava an inch or so above where it enters my heart. This is used primarily for delivering chemo but can also be used for blood draws and IVs. That means when I go to MD Anderson, I pop over to the infusion clinic first thing and they access the port with a single needle stick and then I'm good to go for the rest of my stay. When they pull my labs, they just get blood out of that. When I go for my CT, they can put the contrast in through the port too. If you hate needles in veins like I do, it's a good thing. So when I told my brother I felt fortunate to still have the sucker, he started laughing. Not having any clue why that was funny, he then explained that my glass half full was turbo-charged. He then said as an engineer, my glass really wasn't half full or half empty, rather it was imprecisely measured. Or something to that effect - he's an engineer.
Around noon, my two best buddies learned I intended to spend my afternoon prepping for the visit with my doc. I've been wanting to start thinking down the road a bit. IF this is another metastasis, we're most likely talking additional surgery and more chemo. They thought I ought to have help, so they piled in the car and drove the hour up to my place to help me white board a giant flow chart of possibilities and options. Either that, or it was a good excuse to enjoy National Margarita Day (yes, that is really a thing), and they knew I'd be easily led astray. Well, we did do our homework:
This color coded beauty was developed with the able assistance of Mary Ann, Debbie, and Jose Cuervo.
After we'd finished our assignment, we retired to the front porch to enjoy the sunshine & 75 degrees. When the box on top of the mailbox was noticed (thank you Dean!), I hopped down and brought back a 2 day haul that would have been depressing for all the junk mail and bills, were it not for the aforementioned box and a padded mailer. I opened the box first. The return address had a patently fake name and an address in Midland, MI. It took me several seconds to figure out who sent it. It should have taken even less time, but remember, it was National Margarita Day. In the box was a sock monkey mug with a lid. Well, no doubt about that one; back in January, I'd had a really fun reunion in FL with some spectacular ladies from my high school days. We get together, laugh our heads off, do a craft or two (they have to beat me to get my no-crafty self to comply), and thoroughly enjoy each others' company. I'd found a sock monkey hat for $2 and proceeded to wear it all over S Florida. I ended up with a sock monkey wine cozy too (thanks Karen!). So when the sock monkey mug arrived, I knew what group was responsible. I think the sock monkey is my new spirit animal.
The padded mailer had the socks. I. Cracked. Up! If you count the enclosed card addressing the irony of free range chickens still being slaughtered (they tasted "surprised"), it was a laugh fest. Ah, life is good.
The short of all this is (Oh, thank GOD she finally got to the "short of this!"), the glass is half full, albeit imprecisely measured. If you've picked up anything from my assorted ramblings, it should be this:
The padded mailer had the socks. I. Cracked. Up! If you count the enclosed card addressing the irony of free range chickens still being slaughtered (they tasted "surprised"), it was a laugh fest. Ah, life is good.
The short of all this is (Oh, thank GOD she finally got to the "short of this!"), the glass is half full, albeit imprecisely measured. If you've picked up anything from my assorted ramblings, it should be this:
There is something of value in everything that happens in your life. It is entirely in your control whether you get it or not.
So, as I go forward with my appointments, do one little thing for me. It's hard. Harder for some than others. Get something good out of something sucky. Be grateful that a chemo port gets you out of some IV sticks. Thank God you have friends who will sit on a porch with you. Notice that sunset and realize how incredible the gift of one more is. For me, do this one thing. Carpe the %$#@* out of this diem. If you do, it will have all been worth it.
RSS Feed