I am sick of having hardly any hair. I am sick of freaking out my manicurist and pedicurist with my chemo nails. I am sick of other things that I forget because I have chemo brain which is not helped by chemo brain meds. I am sick of being tired except when I am too widw awake.
However, perhaps the alternative is being dead, and I would not like that at all. First of all, I don't have enough life insurance. Then I am missing out on being a grandparent, although I am totally too young for that, but i am really looking forward to teaching meghan and chris's yet-to-be conceived children to call me barbara, not grandma, and also how to swear. And I am totally looking forward to laura becoming a famous poet/author, who will of course dedicate all her books to me. Of I pay her. Oh, and I am looking forward to getting a new "c" boob, becoming a cougar, and moving somewhere warm, where I will go to school for my MSN and NP degree, so that I can write prescriptions. Also, I look forward to signing up for those disaster relief nursing places, like Haiti, where my fake daughter went, or wherever the next disaster is.
So I will do the stupid Mass General conserative treatment. I am sorry that my surgeon has no sense of humor. He is a fucking surgeon. My ex-husband almost became one, but chose psychiatry instead. He is not on my blog. He has no fucking sense of humor. That is why they say opposites attract.......for about a year and then there is a huge awful divorce. True for me.
So, I think that I will become a better person when this is all over. it is not all over yet, so I have not yet become a beter person. I hate people who are assholes and don't have cancer. I hate (some, not all, Bev, tell Paul) republicans. I think mean people should have cancer, and i don't think i was a mean person before I got cancer. I was not. Now I am a little mean. But mainly most people like me despite what you-know who says.
So let us all look forward to the early fall, when I will have 2 good C cups, and be a really good person. Peace Corps, traveling disaster nurse, whatever. Then maybe a cruise ship nurse. Then sainthood. The first athiest saint. With big boobs. And possibly grandchildren. if they are good enough for my sainthoodness.