I have decided the DOCTORS can't have everything. They can take my cigarettes, my hair, my deep seated need to nibble on fried cheese, they can take away my ability to wear v-neck t-shirts without scaring children, they can even take my boob....but they cannot have my bourbon!
No. No good DOCTORS...you cannot have it! Please understand, I don't want all of the bourbon, and I don't want it all at the same time. Excessive alcohol intake is a risk factor for breast cancer. The operative word here being excessive. My level of intake before this nasty business wasn't even close to what most good MEDICAL folks call excessive (and mama can drink). But the conclusion I have come to is that late in the evening on Saturday nights I will slip on down to my favorite bar and have a drink. Just one. Maybe two. And I'll talk to my good folks, and we'll laugh and I'll be normal until just a little past last call and good DOCTORS, you're just going to have to deal with it! I understand you all are trying to save this old grrl from death (and that I totally appreciate) but if I'm far gone enough to not enjoy a cocktail now and then good Lord what are we doing? Let me smoke in Paris, Bali, Australia and be done with all this nonsense! Fuck blueberries at that point..give me brie! We ain't there yet boys n' girls.
But, last night, in a fit of normalcy, great magic happened as it is wont to do in the middle of absurdity. Nothing too fantastic, really. Just a few cocktails way past midnight and then breakfast at a tiny cafe that reminds me of summertime in New York. And there were plates of toast and gravy, eggs, ham, potatoes. And my lovely friend had the hiccups and fell flat on 18th street to get rid of them. And the world was the world, nothing short of it, unencumbered, spinning rather lazily toward dawn. And we were there having breakfast, drunk, and fear let us be. Fear just stuck its spindly fingers in its pockets and turned North toward the river and let us be. Magic. Sometimes I forget how close this line is drawn next to the people I love, how they are as involved in this bullshit as I am. If I could bring them the head of this monster any faster I would.... But last night just hiccups, bourbon, and gravy.
Monday I get to go to the HOSPITAL again. Breast MRI. I get to see this thing's face. I get to tell it its fucked. They put the chemo port in Tuesday at 6AM. We are really going to have to have a discussion about the hours these PEOPLE keep. I go to bed at 6AM! Wednesday we meet with the good DOCTOR, Thursday they start pumping me full of poison, and Saturday the band has a ROCKSHOW!! Small bits of magic....chemo is just going to have to realize I have no time for its nonsense.
XOX
Miss A
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2 comments:
Don't you worry little lady, I've got the Witches on the healing spells and the burlesque crew working some serious boob magic. You look that cancer in the eye and tell it to call it's mama and say goodbye.
I've decided that instead of growing my hair out to be glamorous, I'm going to cut it all off and start collecting wigs. So if you ever want to go wig shopping, you just give me a buzz. I'll fill my flask with bourbon and we'll have us an adventure.
I love and admire you more than cheese, woman.
You have a good choice of bourbons available to you in McCormicks, made near KC with good Missouri grain. (http://www.beverageworld.com/content/view/33508/) May it be a magic elixir for you. Many of us are pulling for you KID.
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