Mardi Gras Mambo

I am TOTALLY a believer in signs. My first day of chemo was February 4th, World Cancer Day. Good sign, yes? My third treatment (today) was March 4th, Mardi Gras. This can only mean one thing. Tim HAS to take me and Benny next year. I mean, who can argue with a woman battling cancer? I mean come on. (See how I played that? Sometimes the c-card comes in handy).

And this Mardi Gras is going good. Mom is in town and Benny even got to come because Arlington Schools call snow days for everything. I only have one session left to go with this particular chemo, which is the one that causes nausea, so I’m pretty much done. I can call it like this (even though technically I have 5 more sessions) because I’m in charge of who’s in charge. The last four sessions have more muscle/joint related side effects, but you see, I can deal with pain. It’s stomach stuff I have NO tolerance for. Plus I don’t have to do the neulasta shot the day after which raises my white blood count. So basically one left.

Chemo buddies!

Chemo buddies!

My doctor (and everyone else) keeps telling me to tamper the enthusiasm a bit. Chemo side effects are cumulative so with each session, it takes a little bit longer to swing back upward again. And, as my doctor tells me, it could get worse. Not to be a total buzzkill but just to keep my expectations straight.

Well that’s all fine and dandy but I see this journey kind of how I see my faith. If, at the end of the day, I let go of bad energy, treated people better, had more patience, gave more, loved stronger and tried to live up to the ideals of my main man Jesus—be nice, take care of the poor, don’t be an asshat in general, stuff lots of the other great people (Gandi, the Dalai Lama, Nelson Mandela, Confucius,* for example) preach—in part because of my faith, and when I died there was nothing, would I regret having it to begin with? Hell no. (hahahaha, see how I made a funny?) Now granted, some people do all those things and don’t believe in Jesus and that’s fine too. Shocker, if I was born in India, chances are I wouldn’t have been raised in the religion I was. I’m not going to go into the whole faith vs. religion thing but you get my point. The whole reason I mention this is because I am firmly in the camp of what you believe, what you think, makes a significant impact on how you feel.  If I am optimistic and tell myself I’m going to have smooth sailing all the way, I’m none the worse if I start to feel like shit. It just means I feel like shit. At least I didn’t feel stressed about possibly feeling shitty and then felt shitty. It also means I get to sleep a lot while other people take care of things like laundry and dishes and feed me coconut ice pops. I’m fine with that.

So, back to Mardi Gras. I just learned the (Arlington’s idea of a) parade we were going to all go to is postponed due to snow (There is none, btw. THIS IS NOT A REAL CITY!) But Lin is bringing over a vegan king cake (yessssssssss) and the Virginia Hospital Cancer Resource Center hooked me up with three wigs for gratis and I may be able to convince Ben to make us all purple, green and gold Rainbow looms, although that negotiation is currently at a stand still. He wants to make pink and blue ones because he has more of those colors and gold bands apparently come at a premium. Because of the non-drinking, there will be no hurricanes for this girl on Mardi Gras 2014, but 2015 watch out. The Bim Boogies will be in da house!

The trip to Target hair and hat combo; the long blonde mullet, the "I use to think this was short hair"

The “I need to run to Target” hair & hat combo; the long blonde mullet, the “I use to think this was short hair” hair.

And if I was at Mardi Gras this year, you KNOW this would be the wig I’d wear. The St. Francis of Assisi “just the bangs” collection. WHY ISN’T IT HALLOWEEN?????


Happy Mardi Gras Ya’ll!

* I have to use this opportunity to tell Tim’s favorite joke. Confucius say: Man who put face in fruit drink get punch in face. Can you tell the dude is a dad?


3 thoughts on “Mardi Gras Mambo

  1. Pingback: 50/50 | Bitsey with Cancer

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