I know, I know…it doesn’t sound terribly polite coming from a little old lady but darn it, I get tired of polite and often find it therapeutic to just speak my mind. You know those shooting shows where some guys blasts a poor unsuspecting watermelon into the next world? I think I’m afraid I will become like one of those melons or a pressure cooker and explode all over everyone if I don’t just “get it out.” My dear husband thinks I get plenty out of my system but he doesn’t always know how much I keep in. Alas, that is a subject for another blog.
Don’t you find that one problem compounds upon another, and another? This past week we had to go into Portland, Oregon to see the oncologist for some very interesting new injections I am receiving in my derriere, on both cheeks I need to add, thus there is no hiding from the after effects. It’s a two hour trip into Portland from our home here in Astoria, OR and I have had sacroiliitis for many years now. I also have very severe osteoporosis and have one crushed vertebra and another that has been fractured; neither of which make for a happy spine. None of those conditions are conducive to sitting. We’ve had vans, SUV’s, luxury cars and have pretty much tried every seat on the car lot. By the way, the most recent time I rode in an ambulance, it was the worst ride of my life and would have to be unconscious to ever do it again. What are those people thinking? Well, on with my tail, or rather tale of whoa, or woe.
I suspect I’m one of the few women who go to an auto dealership like Goldilocks, rear end in tow, trying out seats. One is too soft, one is too stiff, and another is too hard to get in and out of. You know the drill if you have any kind of trouble “back there.” The car I currently own has warming seats, a rather invasive, flirty fanny massager I think I’ll Floyd and lumber cushions that inflate. I also throw in my trusty “tush cush” which is made of gelfoam. I always think I’m ready to go if not rarin’, because I have no choice. In order to defeat the metastatic cancer I have to haul around all of my other problems; and they are numerous.
Being a firm believer in attempting to meet treatment head on, so to speak, the torment of the trip, the doctor’s waiting room and the chairs in both the waiting area and the exam rooms can be a torturous experience. I always want to climb up onto the exam table, lie down and put a bouquet of flowers on my chest and wait for some unsuspecting medical assistant or nurse to find me; lying there waiting for service or a reprieve. I actually did have to do it once, sans flowers because I didn’t have any with me. However, I want you to know I’m a courageous person and usually sit there, seeking comfort wherever possible and wait for that dreaded question, “And how would you rate your pain level today?”
Does it show? Is there a flashing neon light on my gluteus maximus? I’m there for cancer treatment. I am, I must say in full disclosure, fortunate to have an oncologist who is looking at the whole picture; and it isn’t a pretty one. So many problems in one little, old shrinking lady should be against the law but alas and alack, it apparently is not.
When I was first told about the treatment I would be receiving which would mean a cancer treating drug, maximum dose of injection into each hip, I had to ask the doctor what we would do, meaning me alone of course, would do when I ran out of butt. The doctor asked, “Is that spelled with one ‘t’ or two?” I or maybe it was my daughter said, “Two.”
Since I’m a woman who walks, lists to one side, never runs and is always posting about her tush, rear or hiney on public internet, I have few secrets. And let us never forget my favorite name for my back end, po, po. Please let me tell you this is a problem of geography…my own. I am losing my rear section at an alarming rate and just don’t have room for too many more darts back there. Fortunately, I will now be receiving the injections on a monthly basis, instead of every two weeks, thus alleviating a bit of my whining, I hope. It won’t take much searching to find something else to whine about, I feel certain of that.
I’m sure most of you would agree with me that it would be heaven sent if we could be doled out just one physical and emotional problem at a time. What’s with all this piling on a person? It isn’t fair but then again, I had to come to the realization years ago life wasn’t, isn’t and never will be fair. I think being an RN helped me to see that although my own life was never a cake walk, whatever that means. I use it because I’m hungry as I am writing this and it does sound like fun, doesn’t it? Cake walk. I’ll leave you with that as we all drudge through life carrying whatever problems we have accumulated and try to keep not only our senses about us but also and perhaps, most importantly, our sense of humor.