My triumphant retur--wait, I had a blog?

My friend Bulwyf (not his name) had cancer and painstakingly blogged every treatment. He is a man of many talents; when I met him, he was a "Top Gun" enthusiast and amateur quilter. Who knew he was also a science nerd and a pretty solid writer?

Once again, acute illness is the rock tumbler that brings out our true brilliance! 

Thanks, "genetic risk factors" combined with "environmental triggers"!

Dude did his research. And he went through a lot. If he could keep his blog going, what excuse do I have for falling into a Twinkie coma?

LINGUISTIC MINUTE: did you know that "coma" is Spanish subjunctive for "comer", "to eat"? Fun fact to know, because "comer-ing" is exactly what led me to be chilling at home on a Friday night in my underwear, not answering my phone and cursing my air conditioner to work harder, damn you! 

My (debatable) mistake is your (debatable) gain, though, 'cause I'm back to blogging.

What fun we're all about to have!

Oh, but seriously, go read The Great Monocytic Purge. I've gotta go see a guy about some cookies.

Eating Actual Food: Take Fifteen

As of roughly 1pm today, I'm back on the "eating better" wagon. (I'm writing it publicly so it might become true.) Girl cannot live on Swedish Fish alone.

Plus, if I can get off all my toxic meds, maybe I'll only get "cancer of the torso" instead of "cancer of the everything." A girl can dream!

Plus, the more kale I eat, the more I weaken Terrence's life force. It's true.

If you believe in fairies, clap your hands! (It distracts Terrence from his Xbox.)

Really, I think we can agree this is a win-win-win situation.

So far, "3/4 of a day" down! Only "a lifetime" to go.

.....

Ugh, fuck. Where's a "depression cake" when you need it.

What Passes for Affection

I'm currently on Cimzia, a stinging bastard of a drug that gets injected to my arm via turkey baster-sized needle. I get one injection per arm every two weeks.

Source: pharmacytimes.com

Today, the nurse pinched the flesh on the back of my arm in preparation for shooting me up. "I like you," she said, and I smiled, assuming she meant my sparkling wit or magnetic personality. "You have a lot to grab onto here. A lot of our patients don't have enough to grab, but I'm getting a good pinch."

She pressed the plunger on the syringe, and there was a thoughtful pause. "Yes. Yes, I like you."