The Morning After

writer’s remorse

Sometimes I write something so profound I immediately want to share it with everyone I know.

Until I read it the next day,

then I’m glad I didn’t.


Politically Incorrect Feet

a chemo side effect?

Shortly after a shower, I still have stinky feet. My dilemma: Is this a chemo side effect? or Have I always had stinky feet, and because of the chemo, I can now smell them?

If it’s the latter, I sincerely apologize to all those I have ever unknowingly offended.

Kicked to the Curb by the Hospital

she was a special agent, undercover,

I found the perfect life. Last week, woke up in a corner office, prime real estate, with a grand view across the city. My staff was top notch, some even had RN on their name tag, that means Real Nice. They checked on me, brought me stuff, and ordered meals from the kitchen whenever I wanted. (Recommend the country gravy with green beans and meatloaf.)

My feet barely touched the floor, when one of those Real Nice people would come running to help.  They loved me, cared for me, clearly, I had found the perfect life. I put my few things into the dresser drawer and moved in.

It wasn’t but a few days after that. when I was just getting to know my way around, when this awful thing happened. They showed their true colors and kicked me out.  Bye-bye beautiful corner office with a great view. Can you believe they wouldn’t even let me take the furniture?

They were in such a hurry for me to leave the place, they shoved wheels under me, insisting I be personally ushered out by this woman guard. I could tell who she really was because of this special ESP gift, my feet tingle whenever something is wrong. At that moment both feet were tingling so badly they were almost numb, so I knew for sure, she was a special agent, just like the TV show I saw last night.  There was no other choice but to quietly comply.

Parading me through the corridors of shame, all of my meager possessions, including the toothpaste and the comb I stole from a package someone left in my room, reduced to a plastic bag and forced to carry on my lap. That undercover agent couldn’t stop smiling. How humiliating, but I knew underneath that perky little smile was really a smirk.

Kicked all the way to the curb, that smirky little agent refused to leave until I was in the car and the door was shut.  I don’t even know how I’m ever going to regain my composure after all that I went through.

So glad to be home, but I sure miss my staff.  Nobody even cares that I pooped in the potty this morning.

You know you’re feeling better when you care that there are beans down your shirt.

let the whole bean, breath sounds and gravy thing fade away into the ethers. But that was not to be

In the hospital for several days with chemo complications, lying in bed, safe from the germs that I had no defense for. I do recall combing my hair hours earlier when my face showed up in the mirror. A shower, however, hadn’t yet occurred to me.

“I need to check your breath sounds,” retrieving me from some faraway place of REM, was Lindsey, my nurse. “What’s this?” Lindsey seemed to be having a problem.

From my view I could see exactly the problem. It was leftovers from last night’s dinner. Reaching inside my shirt, I recovered a 4 inch long, gravy stained, green bean. “Would you mind throwing this away?” I asked Lindsey.

“Of course,” she said, like it was an everyday occurrence for patients to be stuffing their shirts with green beans. Another bag of I.V. antibiotics swinging above my head and I was already asleep.

I didn’t really care, until the next morning when all those foggy days solidified into clear memory. It would have been so much more comforting to hold onto a grit of dignity and call it a dream. Let the whole bean, breath sounds and gravy thing fade away into the ethers. But that was not to be.

I had hard, cold evidence just inches from my face. The lingering gravy was not to be ignored. I pushed the nurse button. “May I help you?” It was Lindsey.

Speaking into the little light on the TV channel changer, “I need to take a shower.”

Maybe I am feeling better.

Fire Place

Found the fireplace video on the holiday channel. “How nice,” I thought, “the roaring fire, the sound of popping and crackling flames.” Just like a real fire.

Precisely. Ten minutes and I’m a nervous wreck.

Maybe it’s from back in the day as a firefighter, but every time I caught those flames out of the corner of my eye, It was either turn the T.V. off or call 911. Sometimes reality T.V. crosses the line.


Funny tragedies

This afternoon my kitten managed not only to swipe my phone off the bathroom counter but with precise aim, to drown it in the toilet.
Sadly, I will be out of touch until I can get this figured out. 

Be on alert for this vicious phone destructor, surely her next path of destruction is already underway.

Like Alien Scientists

I did not expect company in the bathtub when sinking into a warm bath after a long day. There they were, a row of pre-teenage kittens lined up on the edge of the tub, 4 pairs of eyes moving in unison observing my every move with the utmost of curiosity.

Rather than 4 playful kittens it felt more like I was being watched by alien scientists. Each making note of the smallest detail to later be discussed and debated in their Behavior of the Human Species journal.

Who knew taking a bath could be so eventful?

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