i am NOT my hair.

I'm not oblivious to the beauty standard: I just don't measure my self-worth against it, and I don't take comfort or solace in trying to live up to it when I'm under stress.

just. say. YES.

I was going to do a blow-by-blow accounting of the past ten days, but seriously: my largest accomplishment has been remembering to take the right medicine at the right time and in the right amount.

chemo: day 1, round 1.

Steve lowered himself somewhat cautiously into the patient's +1 chair and gave me a wide-eyed look of happy surprise. I leaned back into my seat, my feet left the floor, my head hit the pillow: instant comfort for me, too.

diagnosis: bad fiction

I must think about this current situation as a different kind of learning experience. That's going to take some extra effort, mentally, on my part - but I think I'm equal to it.

stop my brain, I want to get off.

Folding laundry, making brine, and taking out the recycling keep my hands busy but not my higher brain functions. I cannot stop my busy, intelligent brain from attempting to parse what has (and has not) happened for the past five days.

looking for the sausage (or, at the very least, the water-soluble fiber)

In addition to all the unpleasantness and discomfort I've already experienced, I have also had moments of profound and heart-wrenching positivity. These moments have all been unique and wholly unexpected. They have already made all the difference.

(de)evolution

I will never feel confident in my health again, not ever, even if I do beat this cancer. I just hope I'll recognize myself when I'm through.

Happy *$&%^?! Festivus.

If I had ever planned on 'celebrating' a real-life Festivus, this year is it.

time, medicine, and sabotage.

It doesn't feel as if three weeks have passed, but I am losing temporality. It happened first in short bursts - during tests, scans, and appointments. The sound of doctors explaining complex, unhappy medical information has a uniquely memorable cadence.