It's been a dizzying week, trying to keep up with the kids without my parents around to help. But it's also been good in terms of reclaiming my space, my house, and my family. I'll see how it goes when I have chemo this Wednesday. It's my first round of the second type of chemo cocktail I'm getting. This one is suppose to be stronger with new side effects. I have to take double my dosage of puke pills, which isn't cool because the puke pills have some nasty side effects of their own.
It was a good thing that I took a copy of my chart with me to the oncology surgeon's office because she was missing information that she needed. It's also a good thing that I have a distinctive ladybug tattoo around my arm. I got a call last week from the plastic surgeon's office. Her secretary told me that the surgeon forgot to number and identify the pictures she took of my boobs. So they needed to identify my headless torso. She asked me, "Would you by any chance have a ladybug tattoo?" I said yes. What would have happened if I didn't have that tattoo? Would I have been asked to go into the office and identify my boobs in a line-up? How odd.
My best friend from high school and her mom are coming to see me in a week and a half. I'm super psyched because no one from PA, except for my parents, ever comes to see me. Plus, they're bringing me my favorite food from central PA--Hartley's bbq potato chips. Salty, spicy goodness. I wish they could bring OIP pizza too. The best pizza in the world comes from Amish country.
I need to eat all the Hartley's that I can. Hartley's=tummy flab=new, bigger boobs. An encouraging equation.