The Party Girl's Guide to Cancer

LATERZ, hair and FUN and WINE! Everyone knows that chemo sucks.  Like root canal or a spinal tap or films where Jack Black plays a romantic lead, it is universally understood as nothing any human should endure.  What they don't tell you, aside from your hair falling out and nausea, is what to expect in the process.  They don't prepare you in any way, tell you what the steps are or even tell you how long it takes.  They don't tell you about all of the other trappings of chemo, as it's presented as one event.  I even asked how long it would take.  The woman on the phone said 3 to 4 hours for the first session.  It was closer to six. I get to the infusion center, and there are signs indicating this is a grim and joyless place.  No more than one visitor at a time as a courtesy to other patients, like you are in ICU.  No cell phone usage (how are you supposed to pass 3-4 hours?).  My friend Tracy was very good in telling me bring a co...

You may be thinking, “WHAT NOW?   What trouble did she possibly get into this year?”   I’m sorry to report there is nothing as spectacularly dramatic as a cancer diagnosis in this year’s letter, nor are there terrorist attacks or murder trials or another failed marriage.   There was not even a feline fatality.   I still have a cat, I still have a boyfriend called Kevin, I still have a house in Florida, and I still have ten fingers and ten toes.   Well, I almost escape unscathed.   In the end of September I tripped, hit a concrete wall and split the middle bone of my right pinky down to the joint.   After a heavy dose of denial in a half cast for two weeks, I had to bite the bullet, with Novocain, and have some pretty medieval-looking hardware installed so I could retain the use of my finger joint.   I still have it but who knows if it will get back to being fully functional.   Opening a jar makes me feel completely incompetent. ...