Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Maybe I Could Be A Pole Dancer, At the Home for the Blind

Y'all are so damn cute, begging me to keep writing.  Sheesh, you don't have to beg.  Ok.  Beg a little more.  Hell, I'd do this for free.  Oh, I am.

So I will post when I am inspired, ok?  It won't be everyday.  You will just have to savor me.  Savor away!  Damn that was some mountain of a marathon I set for myself, and I did it!  I am very proud of that, daily blogging for one year, in cancer treatment no less!

I just don't have so much to talk about anymore, and I fear the transition I'm in right now I'm feelin a little whiny folks.  I thought I was through the hardest of the stuff.  I never imagined how difficult this transition back into my life would be.  Wow.  It's hard people, it's real hard.

Don't get me wrong, I am like the most grateful person on the planet but tonight after work as I got out of my car, I felt like a damned old lady walking up the front path.  Everything hurt.  Forget about the foot, it's half dead and the other half hurts like hell.  My back and shoulders ache, and the left wing is so tight.  Um, I hope there are some good drugs in my immediate future, or I need a new line of work baby.  A desk job?  Oh geez.  What'll I do?

Was texting Husband about it today, and said "Maybe I could work for you Honey..."

He texts back "You would have to do everything I say..."

I text back "I quit."

Damn, when you ain't worked in almost a year, and spent that year doing crazy cancer shit, wow, it is so hard going back to work.  Especially my job, which is so freakin physical.

Somethin's gotta give baby, cause between chemo brain, menopausal brain, blond brain, and old lady-itis, I am hurtin bad after each shift.

Not to mention, my brain is like a colander!!!!  Oh em G.  I can't remember shit.  I have to write everything down, and I mean ev-er-eeee-thang.  Tonight a guest orders a Prickly Pear Margarita, one of our signature cocktails, and I write down the abbreviated version without even thinking - "prick."  Then I look back at my server notes and startle myself thinking why in the hell did I write prick when he was a perfectly nice man???

I'm in trouble folks.

Don't mix Cancer Camp, with Camp Menopause, with Fiddy Two Year Old Lady Shit.

It's bad people.

Real bad.

I am turning into the breast cancer menopausal cursing Erma Bombeck.

It's gonna get ugly.

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