NORMAL???? ANYTHING BUT.........

I am officially adding a few new letters to the list of things that have an impact on my life.  PTSD.  I think there should be a subset category that is simply PSD.  Bet many are wondering why isn’t she adding PMS or PMDD, but I haven’t been “pre” anything since post chemo.  I’ve been bouncing between AD and EF and I have just come to that realization.  The only thing I can be certain of is that I no longer bounce into BC.  Not in my dreams, Not in a tequila induced state, Not at all, Not ever.  BC is gone forever.

“You have cancer” was the precise moment that era ended.  The ending was abrupt and the severance was immediate.  The C Word creates a chasm in life with guillotine-like swiftness and the precision of a band of marching Marines.   Unlike Dorothy, I can click my heels for the rest of my life, but the clicking is not taking my brain home to its former life.

The New Normal.  It’s a phrase used over and over again by cancer patients.  I have lots to sort out right now.  What can I call these periods into which I have divided my life BC:EF:AD?  Parts?  Eras?  Periods? (OK, that’s out because it could be confused with the whole PMS thing.)  I don’t like any of those.  They aren’t sassy enough.  First batch of suggestions?  No answer. 

Hey!  How about trimesters??  Nope.  There is a problem with that, too.  I am right back to references of reproduction and do I really want a constant reminder of ALL of my missing parts?  Isn’t showering and the act of dressing and undressing enough of a daily reminder?  I see the foobs and I see the little marks on my abdomen from the other surgeries.  I’ll pass on trimesters.  Out with suggestion number whatever, I am not counting anymore.

Chapters might work.  On the other hand, this isn’t such a great idea either.  That will quickly become a reminder of my inability to read novels.  On it goes to the pile of “You Suck Suggestions.”  I have to work on this.  And whatever I decide upon MUST provide me with a metaphoric path in which to race between AD and EF.  Unlike BC which was clearly cut and sent out to sea, there is no definitive break between with these two, no head rolling guillotine action.  In fact, I am like that stupid, bouncing, help me keep my place so I can sing along, ball. 

I zig zag, technically my BRAIN zig zags, or I bounce.  Sometimes slightly.  Sometimes quickly.  Sometimes very high or very low.  But, I BOUNCE.  A ball?  How about innings?  First Base, Second Base, Third Base would work.  How many times have I watched a baseball game where a runner got “stuck” between bases, scrambling back and forth to avoid being tagged out?  That situation, in baseball jargon, is referred to as a rundown.  I think.  (No wiki detour, feel free to wiki detour on your own.)

Then, there is “the pitchout” which involves the guy on first running to second and either the pitcher spins to start this “rundown” situation, or if the pitcher is cocky enough to believe, “He won’t try stealing against ME,” it becomes the catcher’s problem to fire the ball to second base.  The catcher is the most important guy on the field.  He gets to see everything, except I can’t understand how that is possible behind all of the equipment and from a crouched position.  He’s got lots of jobs, he is the multi-tasker on the team.  I can explain and defend my thought, but now is not the time.

If you have no knowledge of baseball, I already lost you.  My apologies.  I think I may have just turned this into an old and famous skit …..Abbot and Costello??  Who’s on first, what’s on second?  If I am doing my own silly AM version of a very funny Abbot and Costello piece, NO ONE is on second.

Which brings me back to the reasons for passing on yet another of my own suggestions.  It’s just another reminder that I no longer have a second base.  They look great but once the boobs became foobs, I ceased having any attachment to the things.  They are not a part of me.  I like them and all….. but….

I don’t know how to explain this concept.  The best I can come up with is that the foobs are like a pair of earrings I might never remove.  They are attached to my body.  But they aren’t part of my body.  It doesn’t help that I can’t feel the things either.  Unless, of course, they are itchy.  The foobs are very strange and confuse the hell out of me.   No feeling, no sensation unless it’s an annoying sensation.  That seems un-friggen-fair.  WHAT – E –V- E- R  …..

They are a nice adornment, much like a pretty nice looking pair of earrings.  Go ahead.  If you are wearing a pair of earrings, preferably a pair that dangles off of your lobes, touch them.  Get the picture?  Depending upon your outfit or the way you are wearing your hair on a particular day, those earrings may look REALLY great.  That is how I can explain the foobs in various items of clothing. 

Holy jeez.  WHAT in the hell am I talking about?  This is going to be “one of those entries.”  Correction.  THIS already IS one of those entries.  All over the place AM.  Since I can’t come up with anything that I find suitably funny enough to describe the periods of my life, perhaps I'll throw in the towel and switch gears.


I decided a few weeks back I am not lovin’ on AD=Accepting Defeat.  I’m back at the drawing board and I don’t know if I’m in EF or AD or if I’m in the process of zigging or zagging (auto correct wanted to make that sagging and FOOBS DON’T SAG, so take THAT MS Word).  AD=NG.  I'm working on it.

I’m tabling the entire discussion for another day.  It’s time to go check on Irene.  I can’t think straight.  Irene is bouncing my brain all over the damn place:  batteries, water, fill the car, do I HAVE a radio (why this would be important, who knows).  I’m bouncing and I’m zigging and I’m sagging (you win MS Word, you are annoying me already)… 

.....and, AS IF I need just one more thing to throw my train of thoughts into a tizzy.

Irene, Where Are You?

Another   Distraction

Kidding aside, stay safe if this is headed in your direction….

Happy Friday!!!