Skip to main content

Going off the Rails on a Crazy Train

While getting an MRI recently, I selected to listen to a classic rock station. Actually I requested a station that played 70s or 80s music and the tech asked if I wanted pop or rock.

 "Well, classic rock would probably be better since I have to hold still," I responded. "If I listened to pop, I'd want to be dancing."

 And so I laid perfectly still while listening (or kind of listening since really in an MRI you never really drown out the loud bangs, whirs and booms). And it came to pass that the song "Crazy Train" started playing and I started to silently and stillfully laugh to myself. What a strangely perfect song for this moment in my life. Ozzy Osbourne was singing my song (has anyone ever really said that ever before???)! "I'm going off the rails on a crazy train," he sings/screams. (and a bunch of other lyrics I didn't understand because well, I was in an MRI and he was kind of screaming)

 You see the reason was that the MRI was a breast MRI (a torturous procedure clearly created by someone without breasts because you lie on your stomach with your arms above your head for 45 minutes). It was ordered by my medical/surgical oncologist to further stage and explore the level of my breast cancer.

 Yep, I've got breast cancer.

 Triple negative, stage 2 or 3. The MRI was ordered to determine which stage I will play on. Yep, crazy train.

 It is a cancer that responds best to chemo so that will be how I begin and I meet with an oncologist tomorrow to discuss specifics (like starting date and length of treatment) and I'm scheduled to get a port on Friday.

 So it begins. This is just another hurdle I have to jump (that is a figure of speech but if I need comic relief, I think about my attempts when younger/able to leap a hurdle. it wasn't pretty but sure is funny in hindsight). Because the highlight of 2019, will be the July wedding of Michael Patrick Piggins. 

 I also plan to conquer this with my good humor and while blogging, to keep everyone updated. 
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

When an ass is so much more

  Body image. Body positivity.  Or about coming to an appreciation for a previously much maligned back end.  In junior high (that's middle school for all of you non boomers), I was given the nickname "big butt Bowen". It was a nickname that stung because I did indeed have a large ass. I tried to mask it, a difficult endeavor since the current fashion (and remember this is junior high when fitting in was paramount) was wearing hip hugger jeans with midriff tops and my disguise of choice were peasant blouses or dresses. That style choice earned an additional nickname, Mama Cass. For those of you that don't know who Mama Cass was, she was part of the Mamas and Papas and known for her beautiful voice but also for her large body.  All about Mama Cass I was cruelly nicknamed at a time when nicknames can really mess with a girl's psyche. And I spent a lifetime as that girl with the messed up psyche. I'm sure there are more than one of you out there that can relate. B
Post a Comment
Read more

Peter Pan no more

                          It's time. Peter Pan had to grow up.  For nearly 18 months of his life, Matthew dressed in this costume. In this picture it's new, just out of the box. He picked the costume out of a catalog and when it arrived, two weeks prior to Halloween, he asked daily if today was the day he could finally wear his Peter Pan costume. He didn't like the hat and only wore it on Halloween, but the rest of the costume he wore daily! You read that correctly - DAILY. He wore it to Meijer (for those of you unfamiliar with Meijer, it's a cleaner, friendlier, more 'upscale' version of WalMart), to church, to play dates and preschool ... Heck, he was three and adorable and it worked for him!  (Yes you read that correctly, he even wore it to church on one or two occasions when it seemed arguing with a three year old about not wearing a costume to church was not a battle worth waging. He once mentioned the priests wore dresses . . . I don't think Joh
Post a Comment
Read more

Cabin fever made me do it!

Like nearly ever person in West Michigan, I have a serious case of cabin fever.  I won't waste your time however, complaining about the two-hundred feet of snow that's fallen in the last two hours. I won't share about the twenty or thirty times I've had to shovel my walk today as gusts blew it right back in my face. And I certainly will not lament about the temperatures that hover around negative double digits making your nostrils freeze together within moments of stepping outside. To bore you with tales of how we have to shovel areas in our yard so that our large dog and can do his 'duty' because the snow is deeper than he is tall and dogs for whatever reason cannot poop in the same place twice, is not what I will share. You will not hear about how when I open the slider to let aforementioned dog outside, gusts of wind blow drifts of snow inside and require a shovel to once again close the door.  Nor will I share how some roads around here are drifted shut be
Post a Comment
Read more