When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Head for the Hills!
Favorite fur hat, Liv and Finn I felt like I was on the ropes. Bad mammogram (OOF!), Blind Alan put down 15 minutes before my biopsy (BIFF!), cancer diagnosis the next day (POW!), got served with $17,000 summons night before surgery (SOCKO!), breast cancer tumor surgery and lymph node biopsy (BAM!), and two days later Mom’s house is sold (KA-POW!). Her home of 35 years, the place of many family gatherings and milestones, was where I last recovered from surgery. The cops showed up that night, but that’s another story. I cannot rest even though I’m supposed to recuperate. I feel like inertia equals death. I gotta move. What, me worry? The night before my biopsy. We joked about it. Yotel NYC with Emma. I have a month of “recovery”. After that, I start 12 weeks of Taxol, and another chemo for Her-2 positive breast cancer called Herceptin. I’m expecting to be knocked out (BANG!). No, I can’t avoid it without risking my life. Yes, my hair w