When I was diagnosed with breast cancer and learned that I would need to undergo chemotherapy and radiation after my mastectomy, there was a moment when I realized I would eventually be bald. At that point in my life, my hair wasn’t in particularly great shape. I had stopped coloring it, and wasn’t getting regular haircuts, partly because I couldn’t afford them.
This essay was originally published on April 7, 2015.
Life has been very interesting since I last posted, mainly because I had a complete meltdown following the conclusion of roasting. I didn’t realize that, like the roast you let rest on the counter after removing it from the oven and tenting it with foil, you keep cooking after you’re cooked. Yes, as bad as I felt the last time I blogged, I started to feel even worse a couple of days later.
This essay was originally published on March 15, 2015.
Maybe some of you like your chicken this way, but not me!
Sorry for the delay in getting this post up; I’ve actually been suffering more from roasting fatigue than the burning. Although, my skin is starting to take on the hue of fresh ground beef. It’s different than a sunburn; there’s a sort of brownish tinge to it that I’ve never before experienced. Chalk more oddities up to the cancer experience.
This essay was originally published on March 6, 2015.
Okay, so I’m getting a little tired of looking at Kramer the turkey. I’ve always loved the Coppertone baby ad, even though it was popular during a time when we didn’t know quite how dangerous the sun is. Now, we slap on sunscreen without having to be told. And wouldn’t you know – some of us are looking years younger than we actually are.
This essay was originally published on March 3, 2015.
I orginally posted this on Facebook. Since it’s rather long, I thought maybe everyone would rather read it here:
This essay was originally published on February 28, 2015.
Kramer as a roasted turkey has returned, which I think is exponentially more amusing than my calendar with 19 roastings crossed off. Twelve more to go.
This essay was originally published on February 20, 2015.
You’re wondering where my picture of Michael Richards as a turkey is… Well, I chose this one of Bill Murray instead, for no reason other than I like it. It’s from last week’s Pebble Beach Pro Am golf tournament, during which he always does a great job making everyone laugh. Though I’m not a golfer, I’ve been to Pebble Beach, and it is one of the most spectacular places here in North America.
This essay was originally published on February 19, 2015.
I’m beginning to think roasting is having a negative effect on my brain. For the past few days, I’ve felt more annoyed, pissed off and agitated than I’ve been in recent months.
The thought of shutting the laptops and avoiding social media has crossed my mind, but without access to both, I am not capable of working. I suppose I could go get a job as a greeter at Wal Mart, or a barista at Starbucks (not that there’s anything wrong with that), but that would be treasonous to my education, not to mention my body. I’m still not physically capable of all that much, and if the Internet did not exist, I’d be standing on an entrance ramp to Interstate 5 asking for spare change.
This essay was originally published on February 13, 2015.
Ten roastings down, 21 more to go.
As I said in my last post, I’ve embraced the schmear. I schmear once when I get home from the hospital, and again at night before I go to sleep.
According to my radiation oncologist, and a couple of the nurses, the possibility of having side effects increases at about the third week. Next week should be telling, but I’ll only be receiving four treatments, since both oncology departments will be closed for President’s Day.
So, roasting takes a holiday; at least for one day.
Have a great weekend.
This essay was originally published on February 11, 2015.
If you’re from the East Coast (New York, specifically), you know what a schmear is. As in, “I’ll have a bagel and a schmear.” In that context, the schmear is cream cheese. In the context I’m using it, it means to slather yourself with some sort of moisturizing cream after roasting – er, radiation.