I know, you're asking yourself, “Why should I care? This is the Miss Melanoma site, not the little hairy monkey Bobby site.”
But bear with me; it will all tie in, I promise. If not I’ll send each of you .80 cents, wait, $1.80, WAIT $11.80 (just ask Antonio, aka Tony, the crackhead in our neighborhood) (You know what, actually, just don’t ask).
Anyway, I have what feels like the flu. No, not the bird one, just the good ole’ fashioned flu flu.
The reason this is important to you (here comes the tie-in, get ready) is way back when we were finding out what was involved with this melanoma treatment thing a common response to how does the treatment affect you was “You feel like you have a BAD case of the flu”.
Now, I can tell you for sure that I feel like poop right now. And I know that it will go away in a few days if my flu follows standard flu practices.
Most of you know, hark back to the day when you were a little lad/lass and you had the flu, all you wanted to do was stay in bed in your underoos watching Scooby-Doo, sleep and feel miserable.
Now, our little Lori has been dealing with that for 5 months already and has until August when the treatment is done. We’re planning a huge “No More F’in Chemo” party in August btw. You’re invited!
Anyway, knowing how I feel with my mild flu and knowing that it’s probably 10 times worse for Lori on an every other day basis (one day of treatment, then a day off, lather/rinse/repeat) makes me realize how tough a little monkey she is.
I’m going to tell you a story I’m not proud of. The other day Lori and I went and worked out for the first time since this whole business started. We both got on an elliptical runner machine.
Let’s go to the replay for what happened.
On the left elliptical machine we have Bobby, a fairly in shape (or so I thought) person whose only drawback is asthma, and let’s face it, I use it as a crutch when I have to.
On the right elliptical machine we have Lori, cancer patient, one less toe, a 2 foot scar, constant nausea, lymphadema, chest pains on a fairly regular basis, on chemo 4 days a week along with a ton of other medicine.
Well, I went for 10 minutes and was DONE. As in done, as in stick a fork in me… as in, put the candles on the cake; DONE. TOAST. As in brown on both sides, as in get me on a plate and serve me up.
It’s never enough, you’ll always want more. All you want to see is car crashes and athletes femurs sticking out of their legs….wait Lori is telling me “I’m going to far again”.
Moral: Lori is strong, learn from it. She’s a cancer patient and trucking through life. We have no excuse.