“Typist has tattooooooooos now!” Thalia sang.
Nia rolled her eyes.
“Isn’t technology amazing?” Calliope asked. “A form-molded cushion so that Typist’s body is positioned just-so for every treatment. Tiny ink markers under the skin as guides. Slide-in, zip-out. Slide-in, zip-out of a short, white, magic tube. Fascinating!”
Words from Typist:
This morning I experienced a new section of the cancer clinic — the radiation center. We’ve had quite a shift in our Wisconsin weather and I was tickled to find this section also has a fireplace… and it was lit.
I received excellent care from two kind technicians and my radiation oncologist.
In about two weeks, I’ll begin the last leg of this cancer journey.
Grateful.
Morse Code? Dots only? I’ll have to dash off a search for their meaning. 😬
I have to say the developments of medical care in general and ones you have shared about your treatment in particular amaze me. In a good way.
I went yesterday for my 6-month blood draw that tracks my status with MGUS. This is sort of a precursor to what could become Multiple Myeloma, but I’m not very close to wearing that label. Happy to say.
Why mention that at all? With every visit I see some patients who don’t appear to be doing all that well. Being ghoulish? Trying to make the point that gratitude can originate from all types and magnitudes of experiences. The medical oncologist I see remarked that at my age, and with a typical rate of progression, I’d be well over 100 yo before having an abnormal plasma cell count that indicates MM. Other fish to fry, right? 🤔
We may see a few cool early mornings here, 66 and 64, this week end. Then next week there’s a chance a hurricane might pay a visit.
Tornadoes for me are ominous for their sudden appearances. Hurricanes are more like a nightmare one can’t awaken from. Like the silent movies of old. The fair maiden tied to the railroad tracks, the villain laughing maniacally while the oncoming train rushes ever faster. Pssst! In the nick of time the good guy shows up with an implement to cut the ropes, whacks the villain, and sweeps the maiden to safety. That these were silent movies, with maybe a bad piano player to add drama, made the visuals the best part.
My mother often commented, “They all lived happily ever after. And later died.” So another chance to be grateful for what we have, state that fact, and live in as calm a state of being as we can. The train’s running late. 😉
Sign: “PASTEURIZE: TOO FAR TO SEE” 😁
Seemed appropriate for a Wisconsin hostess. Or would Typist prefer something a little more cheesy?