It Might Get Messy

It’s not like there aren’t enough humiliations that come with cancer. Now I’ve got a big sheet of…get ready…tongue exercises. And not only that, I had to go in for an hour of tongue exercise coaching. A couple of otherwise cute speech therapists tortured me by making me practice the entire set of reps—6 exercises times 10 reps each = 60 reps @ 2 times per day—but by illustrating each of the exercises for me and doing them with me. Man, it doesn’t get any weirder than that. 


Plus, my tongue is now exhausted. Which can’t be a good thing, given that the one place there remains the possibility of malignant tissue is on my tongue. I’m thinking the poor thing really needs a nice long rest until the surgeon gets in there and can biopsy that tissue. The one thing this HAS done for me is convince me to call the surgeon’s shop and try to get an earlier slot. If that tissue IS malignant, I want to know sooner rather than later. I’ll try his scheduler this week and see if you’ll give anything that might open up between now and my surgery date, which is 27 September. 


Cancer brings out religious people like an open bag of flour brings beetles. Preacher’s secretaries call hospital rooms because the “padre would like to stop by and have a word with you.” Religious organizations send mailers looking for…well, opportunities to stop by to help you in your time of need, or offering to take your call when you are ready to talk. 


They called twice when I was in the hospital. Plus some odd in-house group of nonsectarian religious people that kept wanting to visit. Finally I told them that I didn’t need to talk. I needed somebody to run ice chips and fetch the nurse when the pain killer wore off. They said they’d go to the next person on the schedule.


Somewhere my Mom, whose last cogent “word” was a middle finger when she realized I was fending off a priest the day before she died—is smiling.


I’ve been sick all weekend. Not sure what the problem is. I’m as tired as I was months ago right after treatment. And all my muscles are sore. I’ve slept 45 hours out of the last 60. I even took today off from work. Which was a bad thing. Shit is hitting the fan on multiple fronts at the office. I’m gonna have to fight my way in tomorrow no matter what. Oh well. They re-upped my Xanax prescription. A couple of those early and maybe I’ll get enough sleep to drive in safely… .


New material up around the horn. I’ve been sick, I apologize for being a day late with this stuff. Check http://sustainablebiospheredotnet.blogspot.com/ for the cancer diary, http://docviper.livejournal.com/ for photos and a little ecology, http://theresaturtleinmysoup.blogspot.com/ for the best in pop culture. And thanks again for stoppin’ by—every time you guys read this stuff, I feel a little more life come back to my battered frame!