All my money's going to chemo

Today was a weird day. Beginning with breakfast. I had hot cereal ONLY, no egg beaters. Should have known that would knock everything out of kilter, rip a hole in my universe, but did it anyway. Was not feeling the egg beaters, dammit. Anyway, went to take a nap while we waited for mom's surgery. (she was supposed to go in at 11 with surgery at 1) 10:30 they call and tell her the new groshong hasn't arrived yet. Stupid say what? Why are they changing one messed up groshong (her port thing) for another? Shouldn't we be trying the other kind? And can't they fed-ex that shit? She's overjoyed because even though the thing is bugging her, now she can eat breakfast!

I decide to stay in my bed and sleep. It's hard to know what I actually have control over and what to just let go. Not talking about her food, but the medical stuff. Could have gotten on the phone and called the various doctors offices to get more information or try to push them along, maybe I should have. But I didn't, thinking that it's going to be done on Friday and that's good enough. Why stress over it. Except that settling for good enough is something that I have never really liked doing and I wonder if that's what's in her best interest. (can you have two contractions in a row? whatever) Maybe one day DOES make a difference. Ugh.

So I sleep and dream and it's wonderful. Until the phone rings. Ignore.....ignoring....goddammit! I stomp into the computer room and answer the fucking thing. "Hello ma'am. This is the fraternal order of police.....blah, blahbitty, blah." Fuckers. Not that I don't respect the police, but there has GOT to be a better way to raise money. Does anybody donate money over the phone anymore? Anyway, I listen to his shpeel, which seems agonizingly long because of his Gomer Pyle accent. When it gets to the pause in the script where I'm supposed to say my part, I blurt out "I'm not going to be donating anything this year because my mom has brain cancer." Yup. That's exactly what I said. Couldn't believe it meself. Think that takes the cake for using the brain cancer card to get people off your back. Oh, but it doesn't end there. He doesn't seem to get the fuck-off hint and decides to "refer" me to the smaller booster packages. To which I reply, "all my money's going to chemo. Have a good day!" Of all the weird things to say. Bet those fuckers are going to call everyday for the rest of my life now.

News

Tomorrow is THE dr. K appointment and yes, I will be wearing a titty shirt and my new push-up bra.

Physical therapy went very well. Her therapist is really good and noticed all the left-sided weekness and scheduled her for several appointments. She also happens to be one of dad's group buddy's girlfriends. She thinks she can strentghen her leg and gait. Next appointment is tomorrow after dr. K.

New groshong surgery on Friday
Duke on Monday
Chemo on Tuesday

Occasions where it is acceptable to call your mother a whore:

when she gets a 36 point word in scrabble by adding an -s to your word (fucking whore)
when you catch her with the little orange corners of cheeze-its poking through her fingers (sneaky whore)