When It Rains, It Pours

Yep, I'm dating again. I've broken through the black hole of match.com and finally found a few that didn't disappear after sending the first wink, email or asking me out for coffee.

It all started with Elvis and took off from there.

Last week, on a whim, and not having my daughter on a school night, I was having a first phone call with someone I'd been emailing with. At 10, I said we could've been out for coffee and home already with all the time we spent on the phone. The suggestion sparked the reality and I was in the car on the way to meet Bachelor #1. He was very friendly and complimentary, but I really wasn't feeling the spark. I still thought I might see him again because you just never know.

At the same time, Bachelor #2 emerged from the black hole. We had emailed and he gave me his number and asked me to call. I left a message and never heard back. I gave my match.com membership and profile for all of 5 days but realized when I wasn't getting my refund to get back on there. I reactivated and sent him an email: "whatever happened to you?" He wrote back that he had deleted my number figuring he had it on caller ID, but I had done a call block so he lost it...and then my profile was missing. I granted him his stay of execution and he and I have a date for tomorrow. There was no great banter on the phone, but he's good relationship material, very nice and very local...and flat out looking for a long term relationship. What a refreshing change of attitude from the men I've dated over the past 3 years.

Also, Bachelor #3 wasn't much of an email guy and sent me his phone number. Usually I require some online chatting up front but I figured I've missed out on this stuff for almost 9 months so let's cut to the chase. Great banter, lots of teasing and yet we're both left wondering what the heck is he/she thinking. Pure trouble, but isn't that the most fun? We had our first date yesterday afternoon, for lunch, when I joked "where are we going for lunch," on the phone. He took me up on it and about an hour and a half later he was down from West Palm Beach for lunch. He left me hanging with a mysterious smirk and my not knowing whether he liked me or not. Five hours later, he drove down again from WPB and we had date number two. He had been given the warning that just because I let him into my house, doesn't mean he's making it to the bedroom. A lot of teasing and wondering on both sides what the other was really thinking, and then finally he asked me straight out "so, are you interested?" Duh! I told him when a woman throws her legs across his lap, it's a good sign. He told me if I didn't want to find out whether he was interested then I should remove my legs because I'd be feeling it pretty soon. I finally got a "you're so cute" out of him. Sheesh! What's it take to get a compliment in this town??? He reminded me that nothing would happen since he'd been given a stern warning and he was being a gentleman and respectful. GRRRRR, kiss me damnit!!! We ended it with a hug, he kissed the top of my head, then as he walked out the door turned and said "call me tomorrow, please." He's fun, I like that one. Not sure about potential for long term, but we'll see.

Back at the ranch, I've still been emailing with another nice gentleman who has my number but has yet to take the initiative to call. You snooze you lose buddy.

I Went Out with Elvis and He Brought Along Neil Diamond

I took a chance and went on a date with my first match.com guy that didn't disappear into the black hole. I knew he was an entertainer and comedian, but I finally got out of him that one of his shticks is being an Elvis impersonator.

Saturday night I was supposed to be going out with my friend and meeting my cousin at Crabby Jack's for Karaoke Night. It was the first weekend in three that I didn't have my daughter and I was ready to go play. I'd also invited Elvis, who I later realized I'd seen perform at Karaoke Night a few months earlier, to come join us. In the end, the friend and cousin bailed, so I tracked Elvis down to let him know I wouldn't be there. At that point, he mentioned his friend to me, a nice man that helps him with his gigs and likes to go to Karaoke Night, as well. Turns out he's the famous "Tony Diamond" from Crabby's...I knew exactly who he is. Elvis turned it around on me and invited me to go take Tony out for karaoke, somewhere else.

It was a lovely little get together. I never really spoke with Tony before, all those times I'd seen him at Crabby's. He's a very nice man (who apparently has something he takes thorazine for) and was a gentleman. Elvis took me to his van to listen to some of his CD's, both his Garth Brooks and other impersonator ones and some original songs. Another nice guy, but I could tell he wasn't attracted. Extra points for still being friendly despite that. I knew as soon as I saw his weightlifter physique and hearing a few questions about whether men hit on me when I went out, I had a feeling he wouldn't be attracted to me.

I thanked them both for a nice evening and we went our separate ways. The next day, I sent the thank you email and let Elvis know that even if there were no love connection, I always enjoy making new friends. He responded that he would be honored to be my friend. We've exchanged a few light emails, as such, since. I'm sure I'll see him around again, but as for dating...onward and upward!

Ommmmmmmmm

It's been awhile since I've written, so I've got to push myself back a couple of weeks. I think we have the psychosis under control now. I'm not feeling completely relaxed, but I do have a sense of calm back. I still get excited and rushed and a little bit fidgety, but it's about 95% back to my baseline quirkiness.

So I am put on some medication that we'll just call a "mood stabilizer" to help with my racing thoughts and what I see as compulsiveness. Dr. Always Runs Late But No One Warns Me When I Call Ahead to Confirm believes this will help with my weight, as well. And I'm all thrilled at the prospect of the miracle drug that will help me gain my composure and work alongside my theory of overeating as a form of OCD. However, as I'm scratching my body raw and noticing these ugly bumps, Dr. Always Runs Late But No One Warns Me When I Call Ahead to Confirm asks me if I'm having any side effects. As I'm scratching away, I say no and then the lightbulb comes on. "Ohhhhh, that's what this rash must be from." She agrees, yet advises me to up the dosage but call if the rash gets worse. Fast forward to the rash getting worse, the doctor being on vacation and the office advising me to call my regular doctor.

Second issue is that I'm not feeling better. I'm embarrassed that people around me sense that I'm losing my mind and I'm starting to feel sick, that I'm really sick and it's screwing with my brain. I hate the thought that I'm the same drug that they give to people with OCD and Bipolar Disorder, regardless of whether it's also the drug now being prescribed to help with weight loss. I focus on the crazy indications. So I feel crazy and I'm walking around scratching all day...not attractive and definitely appears as crazy. Crazy is as crazy does?

I spend the weekend with two friends. One, without question, has serious issues. I know there's arguments that I shouldn't bother having with her, because they stem from her issues and nothing that I've done or said. The other one seems at peace, relaxed, takes life as it comes and faces challenges on a daily basis that I couldn't imagine. I decide that I don't want to be perceived the same way as the one with the issues and if the other one can find peace with her bumps in the road, so can I. That's it, meds are gone, I'm going to learn to just relax and stop with the drama. And that's what I did.

Today, I finally did go to my regular doctor - two weeks and major scratching and bruises from scratching later - to take care of the rash. It should be gone by the time I hit Niagara Falls for my Single Parents Mingle GTG, the motherload of get togethers, and hopefully, I'll be 98% back to me.

Now the original me will probably never exist again. She's got some new war wounds and issues to contend with, and a hell of a lot less hair. But change is good. We'll find out how others deal with it.

I'm Sorry, But...

What a week...and I'm so glad it's over. I just reread that last post and I realize that a lot of what I regret saying are complaints. I hate to complain. I don't "vent." I hate feeling like I'm whining. I always add a caveat before I speak or warn the person I'm speaking to that "I don't like to be negative, but..."

You know what? Too bad. If the shit is hitting the fan, the boss should know. And she should help me and not look at me like "why are you telling me and what the hell do you expect me to do about it?" I'm a work in progress here. I do not have 10 years of management experience and she knows that. How does she know that? Because she promoted me and she held back that promotion a good long time, until recently. Yes, there's much I can and should figure out on my own. But I run my group fairly autonomously and if I get to the point where I'm telling her something is a problem, then, for me, it's obvious that I need some direction for my next step. She's not another buddy that I need for venting. I'm not a ventor.

And outside of work, sometime life really does suck. My cup will always be half full, but the half that's empty is really kicking me in the ass. It's hard to keep quiet and take it like a trooper, all the time. On some days - ok, periodically throughout the day - I may get bitchy or anxious or sarcastic or just plain batty. And yes, I may complain about my job or my home or my parents or my clothes or my looks. I may complain, incessantly, on one given day. I shouldn't have to apologize or warn people that they are about to hear crap come flying out of my mouth. No one does that for me when I hear it. But still, I do.

Why do I feel this need to apologize or warn or feel guilty or embarrassed for being negative or complaining? Because I know how I feel being on the receiving end. I hate it. I find it horribly annoying to listen to people complain for hours on end about how life sucks. I was the one prompting my buddies and cousins to see the half of their cup that was full, to grab life by the balls and be happy. I want that back. I want to feel that happiness, that verve, that zest, that optimism. Yet, I don't. And I hate that. So, I apologize.

Stop the Ride

No big post here. I'm all over the place. I don't feel like me. And I want me back. I like the quirkiness I've always seemed to have, but now it's not so cute. I feel crazy.

I want to take life as it comes. I want to feel passionate about things, without flipping out. I don't want to panic. I don't want to act and then later wonder what the heck I did and said and why. I want to just stop and relax and not worry about what the world must be thinking.

Remember Me?

Yesterday, I was reminded of why my ex-husband stopped taking me to the movies 10 years ago. I cry. And I don't just cry where everyone else in the theater does. I'll cry at 10 minutes after the quirky touching scene - after the film itself has moved on. And I'll cry for a good hour after the movie is over wondering why my life can't be like that if it was a really good one.

I've always loved the movies but it's been a while since I've been in "the zone." I completely disappear and become a part of the movie and completely emotionally involved with the characters, or even become one of those characters. I analyze the moments, the players, the colors, backgrounds, music, clothing and imagine where the scenes would go if not constricted by Hollywood - if this were not a film what would be going on.

Sometimes, I become that person up there on the screen. My brain will take me deeper into his psyche, his past or future and then I have analyzed him so much that I lost track of the storyline altogether. I may be left in tears or elated or so emotionally charged that I'm empowered for the next week. I can also be left disheartened for two.

Yesterday was a double feature. First was Sideways. I wanted to know what the hype was about and I'll give you the quick "overrated" for Oscar-worthiness, but they were VERY REAL characters. How many of us geeks or schlubs get stuck with these troublemaking cool friends for a lifetime that we picked up in high school or college that later turn into the schlubs as they age? I know you may be thinking that's not what it was about but I analyze my way, you analyze yours. Back to me...boy did I cry for Miles. I cried throughout the entire film, I could feel his pain at being him.

I was going to go home from there, but knew I needed a pick me upper. The Wedding Date. Oscar-worthy? Hellllll no! Girly fun-worthy? Hellllll ya! A little bit of backwards Pretty Woman and it could've been beefed up some more, but it was just what I needed to cheer me up after the last one. But I cried at this one too, at all different non-sensical moments. A big epiphany given to us women, and one we saw in the commercials, is that we all have the love life we want. And I'm starting to think "uh oh" what am I doing wrong? But then I remember "this is a movie! The screenwriter is not Buddha!" I feel better. It did remind me though about my love for romantic comedies and my need for Dermot Mulroney to be an inch away from my lips with his. But I digress.

Remember me? I'm the one whose husband stopped taking her to the movies because she saw The Mirror Has Two Faces and cried for an hour after, demanding to know why her husband didn't sing to her from the streets. I found her today.

Breakthroughs

Breakthrough 1: If people are going to read this, I may want to update it every now and then. I just discovered that my new friend has linked to my blog from his blog. How very kind! Let's hope that the gentleman I called a wack never finds his way here.

Breakthrough 2: I realized that I really don't like who I seem to be becoming. I always knew I didn't like what I look like, but now I'm not so sure I even like my personality. I'm turning into my aunts and cousins - the ones that think they're helping you out with constructive criticism and leave you balled up in the fetal position in the corner of the room crying your eyes out.

Breakthrough 3: It's all my mom's fault. The stereotypical scenario of a psychological breakthrough usually involves discovering it's your mom's fault so it shouldn't have been too much of a breakthrough.

Issues

Finally met with the psychiatrist today. I was so proud to call my friend, after the session and let her know I'm not depressed. Her response, "I knew you're not depressed, you're just a bitch."

Woo hoo! I'm really reveling in the new found freedom that comes with not being perfect, with acknowledging that I do, in fact, have issues.

I get batty when things are not running on schedule. I hate if it seems I'm running late and G-d help you if you are running late.

I can not deal with chaos. One kid, two kids, I'm still ok. Five kids running in circles around the house chasing each other and I start banging my head like Rainman.

I am an intellectual snob. There, I said it, are you happy? I don't share my feelings and thoughts because I'm convinced you won't get it. Maybe I am a bitch. It's an issue.

There are so many more ways to elaborate on those examples but they're just the minor details of the point. The point is I'm okay with not being perfect, not being calm, not going with the flow, not being the cool one. I've got quirks and I flip out and yes, I have issues!

It's Already Out There

Well I did it. I went on a date. With a local. Wow!

For the past year and a half, I have been on dating hiatus. Yes, I was involved with two men and quasi-involved with another, but those don't count as dating. None lived locally. If they're not local, you can't go on a date. You can chat online, talk on the phone and plan visits, but you can not date. This is why I consider it a dating hiatus.

For the past 9 months, I have removed myself from the market - outside of those long distance romances, which were not supposed to be "exclusive" but that's another topic for another day - and have been in a self-inflicted exile. I needed to deal with my illness and did not make for the greatest catch. I leaned on my out-of-town sweetie for awhile and he was a wonderful distraction and support. But going through this experience made me realize how important it is to have someone by your side. Physically.

I go back and forth on whether it's time. The treatments are done, I'm considered healthy and I have the time. But my hair's not back yet. I still don't feel so attractive and hate the idea of having to explain why you can't put your hands through my hair while we're kissing.

I did it anyway. I put myself out there. I got myself a little crush on an online writer and decided to send him a note. Emails ensued and then the IMs and the date was set. Holy Shit, I was going on a date.

I like him, but I knew from the phone call, even before the date, that he wouldn't be right for me. The offline persona didn't match the online persona - again, another topic for another time. But I went on that date, regardless. I had fun, he's a good guy, just not relationship material for me...and I don't need another fling and don't believe in "friends with benefits." I have too many issues - the "it's not you, it's me" cliche is playing in my head.

The good part in this is I realized it's time. It's time for me to stop hiding and get my ass out there. I put myself out there, it didn't happen, and I survived and I even had fun! Will I find Mr. Right on the next date? It could happen. Or maybe not. Doesn't matter. The dating has begun. I can't take it back, it's already out there.

I Hate Overture

Oh my G-d! Oh my G-d! Oh my G-d! I am quickly losing my patience for online customer support. Where the heck is a damn phone number. I can't find what I'm looking for and I need this fixed now!!! Click here, then here, then read a million FAQs that I would never ask and then find that damn link to write a customized complaint ticket.

Overture owns the online world right now and I'm going nuts! I think Google and Overture have a conspiracy against me to make my brain explode with functionality that only exists on one and not the other and vice versa. Why won't they both fix it all?! I want to see other peoples PPC bids on Google and I want Overture to let me just add new keywords without having to rewrite the damn add when I think of one!

UGHHHHHHHH!!!!!! I need to find my happy place. Good thing I'm off to the dentist.

The "Massage"

So I forgot to waste work time going over the "massage" story. I just have to get this down though. I don't want to forget the beauty and irony here.

I decided to get a massage to help alleviate the incredible stress I've been feeling. Of course, I decide this at 4:30 on a Saturday afternoon, knowing full well that no place will be able to take me on short notice and no place will even be open on a Sunday. So, I start my search online and find the Body & Soul Retreat - open Sundays. Woo hoo! I call. The gentleman is very kind. He tells me there's one opening left. I explain my need for sensitivity because I want to do this without the wig. He's very enthusiastic about helping me and explains how there are massages that work on your lymphatic system, and that he's got the perfect person to do it. He even rearranges schedules so that I can get this "specialist." He mentions a few "earthy" kinds of things to me, but I dismiss it.

Fast forward to Sunday afternoon. I've completely psyched myself up to be annoyed before I even get there, imagining this person massaging me might actually want to talk to me. I've always had a policy of "no talking" during my massage. Of course, that policy is only in my brain because I'd never have the nerve to say out loud "no talking" to someone. I just can't relax, during a massage, if the person is talking to me. I want to relax and having chit chat with the help is not relaxing. G-d that sounded awful! Okay, I didn't mean it that way, but having to make small talk while trying to unwind doesn't work. I need to drift off and not think about whatever that person decides to talk about. I get there completely ready to be pissed off by this.

I was wrong. It wasn't talking that was about to piss me off. I'd hate to say I'm not spiritual, but I'm not into that earthy, yoga, granola, psychic energy, chakra shit. It's just that to me...bullshit. Frou Frou, mental fluff, bullshit. I was about to be knee deep in it.

From the meditation room to the sweet, calm, soothing speech Bonnie gave me to the clear your minds all the way through to the "how do you feel now" look of pride she gave me, I wanted to scream! Let me give you a hint of what a massage is. It's massaging the body!!! I knew it was a bad sign when she asked me as a "by the way" if I wanted her to also work on my back and neck. Um, duh! "Oh yeah," I said. "I want the whole thing." I meant my entire body. Apparently, not what she was thinking.

She took my hands and explained that the left one is my giving hand and my right is my receiving hand, and if I place them both on my heart, I am giving and receiving love to myself. Either that or I'm rehearsing for my wake. Oh wait, I'm Jewish, we don't do that. I digress.

Bonnie would put one hand under me, then the other would press gently on my arm or my stomach or my leg. Each spot, she'd just sit there like that for 5 minutes. All that kept running through my head was "if she doesn't start massaging in the next minute, I'm getting up." But I didn't. Finally, she seemed to be massaging my feet, but that was a quick 15 second rub to get the blood flowing for the next 5 minute "hold." Towards the end, yes, she massaged my back for 5 minutes. She took my bandana off to "massage my scalp." Again, we seemed to have a miscommunication. Massaging my scalp meant ruffling my fuzz like I was the pet cocker spaniel and had been a good dog.

It was over and I decided I would be honest with the owner. I would tell her that she should warn a first-time clients that a massage is not a real massage and to ask for that if that's what they want. But that was not to be. Just as I was about to let her have it, she went into her enthusiastic speech about how wonderful Bonnie is, and how I should try out her Yoga class as her guess at the Lighthouse Point location and how it's transformed her life. Oh well.

Wait, I forget the part that finally made me laugh. They pitch a "Ladies' Night Out" special. What she tells me sounds wonderful - we all are in robes, eating brie and drinking wine (ok, so I don't drink but it's a nice image) and getting manicures and pedicures and facials and massages. She encourages me to invite 10 -12 people and it's all for $200. I had heard her on the phone earlier pricing a kids' party for teenage girls at $475, so I'm curious how it's so cheap. I tell her about my single moms group and how I think this is a great idea. "Let me understand - $200 and we can have 10-12 women." Nope, I was wrong. $200 per person. I start laughing. She says she can work with me, we can change some of the services to make it more affordable. I tell her these are all single moms, there's no way we can swing it. She tells me to call her and they'll work with me.

I leave laughing.

"Not Comfortable" with Anti-Depressants

So Dr. C didn't feel "comfortable" prescribing me anti-depressants. At least I've moved from depressed to pissed. Hello! Everyone who is faced with cancer should automatically be put on something. No doubt, you will feel some sort of mental or emotional anguish during this period. Just expect it. I'm not crazy, but I'll get there soon enough. Why was he so enthusiastic about my taking pain medication when I resisted? Why did he encourage me to take the relaxant when I was having chemo? Yet, he's "not comfortable" with prescribing an anti-depressant. Unbelievable.

That's it for now, but later today, I plan to waste work time going over the massage I paid $80 for that was not a massage but a trip to Oz.

Yep, He's a Wack

OK, he's a wack. I admit it. She was right, he's not all there. Well, I knew he wasn't all there, but I was needy and he was sweet and I figured I could always keep a distance to prevent him from getting attached. And I did, yet somehow he's attached...ergo, the wack comment. There wasn't much communication or activity to get attached to dangit!

Ugh, gotta find a way to curb communication here. Thought I wrote the goodbye letter this morning, but he didn't seem to read it that way.

I'll work a little harder on it.

Stupid Stupid Hole!

I totally should go back to sleep, because right around 11 am, I'm going to be desperate for a nap. Sometimes, if I try really really hard, I can actually go back to sleep when I wake up too early. But if I feel the need to get my ass out of bed to go to the bathroom, the ADD kicks in and I start doing laundry, putting the dishes away and make coffee and then presto! I'm up for good.

I should have something clever to say or write about, but alas, poor Yorick, no.

At least today is Friday. I've been waiting for this day for so long. And then I have to be a good friend and offer to watch Sylvia's kids so she can go on a date. She didn't want to take me up on that, since I won't have my daughter, but with Karla's help, I think we convinced her. I told her the only thing I ask in return is to see the video if the date goes well. I crack me up.

Speaking of videos...apparently Randy has some secret idea that he didn't want to run by me until he got some input from Mistie. Yes, I'm secretly hoping he wants to surprise me with a visit. I need to stop this. It's like I see that damn pot hole in the middle of the street and I'm walking towards it. I keep saying I'm going to move out of the way before I get too close and it gets dangerous, but I find myself drawn to the damn hole. I can not fall in there. I totally need to run down a different street, but I want to play on this street b/c I know this street is a short cut. But if I want the short cut, I risk falling into that stupid stupid hole! I know I couldn't really fall for him, but I could get used to having a warm body around. Good thing he's not local, b/c I would end up diving right into that hole.

Gotta Go Gotta Go Gotta Go

I did it. I broke down and called Dr. C for some medical pick me uppers. I feel like my brain is on speed and constantly thinking gotta go gotta go gotta go, but I've nowhere I really need to go and nothing that really needs to be done. And in between these thoughts, I feel like grabbing the damn wig off my head and throwing it out a window. I'm tired of feeling uncomfortable and itchy.

I'm such a ray of fucking sunshine.

Just scheduled a massage for 3:30 - that should distract me for 15 minutes. I ordered a meditation CD, yesterday. Wish me luck in being able to concentrate enough to have it take some effect on me...and wish me luck in not laughing at it if it seems too flaky.

Stelllllllaaaaaa

I think if I were writing more, I wouldn't be so antsy. I think it would help to get these scattered thoughts down and not let them just whirl around my head like a whip-it ride at the carnival.

I really should be working, but I will get to that soon enough. I'm enjoying the look of catalogs and folders and papers spread across my desk. I could probably wallpaper my office right now with all of it. Maybe that would relax me.

I need a vacation. I want the tropics and I want to read and enjoy the sun and drink frozen virgin strawberry daquiris and not worry if I spelled that right or not. I need to not talk to anyone for a week. Well, maybe to Paolo, the cabana boy. He can make me feel like Stella, getting her groove back.

That's it! I just need to get my groove back! If only I looked as good as Angela Basset did in that movie.

Talk about scattered thoughts, eh?

I'm So Much More Fun than This

Wow - I'm looking back over the posts from the past year and I'm seeming so serious...and depressing. So not me. I need a little booster shot of something to get my brain back in order. I'm so much more fun than this.

And what's more, I totally didn't accomplish most of those goals I wrote. Well, I got my finances in order. At least I didn't mention losing weight. OK, so I said exercise. C'est la vie. One visit to the gym with my daughter flying off the tread mill and there was no going back. I did make plans to go mountain biking - just didn't go. I promised the other girls at work that I'd go next weekend. I will, I promise.

So what now? I'm moving forward, which is where I felt stifled before. Or am I?

Not So Happy Poem

They see our strength but do they see us cry
Do they even want to know
Look away from me if you don't want the truth
Sometimes the pain sneaks through

She looks at me with sympathy and awe
But never sees my soul
She is amazed by the face of courage
Doesn't see the despair

Mom wore one too, he remembers her now
Encourages my comfort
Removing that from my tired head
just doesn't bring relief

Look at my face hard, past my storefront smile
And you will see what's there
The tears are falling slowly down my cheek
I do cry all the time

Cancer Poster Child

I am just not the poster child for cancer victims. I am not the strong woman everyone sees. Or I don't want to be. How the fuck am I supposed to cheer someone else up? My mother wants to send some woman to talk to me b/c she's got cancer and hasn't got the will to fight it. And I'm so fucking strong that I'm supposed to be her cheerleader? No, I'm not. I told her to find a professional. I am not happy and I am not strong and I want this over. Over damn it and I want to go back to moving forward before this stupid stumbling block got in my way. I don't want to spend the rest of my life fighting it or waiting for it to happen again. I want my bubbly happy go lucky take life as it comes attitude back and I want this day to be over. Today I want to just go home and lay in bed and cry. I want this gone and I want my hair and I want to never deal with this again. And I want someone else to cheer me up and be strong and know how bad this really sucks for me and not expect me to be a role model and not be impressed by my "strength" and just shut up and let me complain.

I just got a call from the hospital, my bloodwork came back with low platelets so the doctor decided I should wait a week before the next chemo. I just called his office and told the nurse it's now or never. I either finish up tomorrow or I'm not coming back for the 6th (which was a lower dosage anyway on a "just in case" procedure, so what's the fucking point!)

I should hear my phone ringing any minute now.

I'm so fucking sick and tired of this bullshit! Put me through the fucking ringer tomorrow, check me in if you have to, give me more transfusions, but with G-d as my witness, this fucking chemo bullshit is done tomorrow!