We’re having unseasonably fantastic weather here in Urbana, and that means that I’ve been spending anywhere from 60 to 90 minutes outside for the past few days.
I mostly just stare in wonderment at Dan’s garden from under the shade of our maple tree, but I’m moving around a little bit too. Grabbing my trusty rollator and walking around the back yard.
Today I was so pumped, I walked to the front of the house. In my pajamas. Part of me wants to wear a sign for my neighbors: PAJAMAS ARE FOR CLOSERS.
“I don’t know why I love staring at these plants so much,” I said to Dan. “It’s not like I’m going to see them grow in the time I’m out here. Just something about it makes me happy.”
“I think it’s because there’s something inherently optimistic about a garden.”
So true. Also? I get to imagine all the things I’m going to eat. Nothing tastes bad on dexamethasone. Nothing.
I mean, I’m not going to start eating mushrooms anytime soon, but I have a suspicion I could tolerate them now.
My ACA health insurance kicks in on July 1, so I got on the phone yesterday to schedule that appointment with the allergist I had to cancel when I lost my job and insurance at the end of May.
The test is to determine whether or not I have an official allergy to Temodar, my chemotherapy pill. I am mostly hoping that the answer to that question is yes, because I want absolutely NOTHING to do with that pill ever again. And I want my oncologist to say nicely to me that he will never ask me to swallow certain death in pill form ever again.
But it’s not clear to me yet what other chemotherapy options I will have if the Temodar is a no-go. Fighting brain cancer requires treatments that can cross the blood-brain barrier, and that’s kind of complicated. And, yeah, I want to fight this shit, so…
If you’d like to donate to help us with medical and living expenses as I continue treatment, please visit my YouCaring campaign.