“Somehow the author manages to deliver, with flying colors, what her title promises—humor in the midst of catastrophic life events. Too often, promises of humor fall flat, but that is not the case here. A spirit of authenticity, a heart of compassion, a gift of words, and all of this spiced with delightful sassiness, leaves the reader wanting more after every page.”
Cancer and Fishnet Stockings
One More Dragon to Slay
“Oh, I know I didn’t look tough lying there weak, pale, and dripping with vomit, under a white sheet in the recovery room after the test that discovered the tumor. But sad as the news was, this was not my first battle in life, and I honestly didn’t think it would be my last. I knew I could rely on some inner strength to help me make the right choices: courage over fear, hope over despair, and, more importantly, laughter over tears, because without the ability to laugh, the urge to surrender would be too strong.”
“Maybe I can cope with the big things, like pancreatic cancer, because I don’t sweat the small stuff. So, when something minor hits—like when my favorite red nail polish is brutally yanked from the market without warning or the slightest concern over the dire consequences it might have on the loyal customer who has been using it for years and who, by the way (sniff), may soon be losing all of her hair—I tend to shrug it off. Or NOT!”
Yes, No, Maybe…
“The negative effects of chemo usually hit twenty-four to thirty-six hours after the treatment, so following the movie, we were able to enjoy dinner at Giuseppe’s, my favorite Italian restaurant, with even a little sip of wine. But, the chemo was infused with energy-producing steroids for quicker absorption, so a day or two later, my body always received conflicting messages. Half of me whined, “This is shitty, I feel like I’m dying,” and the other half shouted back, “I get it, but let’s run the 10K in the meantime!”
“The most annoying side effect was the awful taste chemo left in my mouth. The particular combination of drugs I was taking—I’ll call them the “Reserve” blend—were brimming with the complex flavor of chemicals like lead and iodine while delivering secondary notes of sulfur and the pungent taste of…rotten cheese. The “nose” was reminiscent of highly acidic cow pie with just a hint of freshly poured and still-steaming asphalt. The smoky aroma of hot tar makes an appearance as the “nose” lingers. None of these finish with the slightest silky, smooth taste of, say, melted chocolate. So, is it any wonder that I’m losing weight?”
Fun Facts Before Surgery or…Just Shoot Me Now!
“First, of course, they insist you sign some legal documents that absolve them of pretty much everything should anything go wrong. In an operation they call the Whipple procedure, the surgeon is going to slice open the stomach of a seventy-three-year-old woman who has a history of missing body parts, remove the tail of the pancreas, the duodenum, a portion of the bile duct, maybe part of the stomach, and the spleen. Then, reconnect the remaining intestine, bile duct, and pancreas, stitch up all the loose stuff, and staple it all closed. What could go wrong?”
I’m Alive, so why not shop?
“Went into town today to pick up a few things at Williams Sonoma. Arrived home with a pasta machine, a pizza oven, a torch for making crème brulee, an infrared grill, some braising sauces, and a 2017 Mercedes-Benz GLA 250 Crossover in a creamy-white with all the extras from Alfano Motors. I was a little worried on the way home that, since I had not even had my three-month post chemo checkup yet, spending all that money was probably a bit premature. Hmmm. I might have to re-think that pasta machine.”