The Glass is Half-Full

Dame Edna and I have a lot in common these days. I am a drag queen, because post-chemo my tuchus is dragging but like Dame Edna, I'm owning it! I mean, if I'm going to be one sorry sluggish sloth, I will do it it style. My style, but style nonetheless. I will wear a comfy pair of leggings with a periwinkle t-shirt that reads, "LSE Mum" and a pink hoodie from Wabash College and pink socks that read "Cancer Sucks" - with my absolutely most fab glasses and pink lipgloss. This poster child for chemo is rocking her runway! You'll just have to take my word for it, because there is no way I'm going to post a pic; mostly because it would require a level of energy that is lacking and the pic itself might just shatter the illusion I have that I'm looking great! I saw a commercial recently for Walgreens whose message was to battle beautifully. Women, all with cancer, are shown getting beauty advice or makeovers. I applaud and am at the same...

Before you all begin to think I’m breezing completely through chemo, let me remind you of this:   For the most part I am bald. Or if not completely bald, fuzzy headed, and not in the way I think or am thinking, but in the appearance. A little like a hedgehog or a porcupine with bald patches. On Super Bowl Sunday while most of you were overeating or filling out those little squares to wager on the upcoming game, John and I were having a unique pre-game party. In front of our bathroom mirror with clippers and scissors. Preparing for the certainty of hair loss from my chemo, I decided to buzz my locks to lessen the shock and mess of of losing large chunks of my silver, shoulder-length hair. It was in all honesty one of the most poignant moments in our 30+  year marriage. I had originally asked my friend and former stylist if she could do it . But when I shared my plan with John, he said that he wanted to do it. Certainly that was not expected. So instead of watching th...