Whilst at the doctor on Friday she suggests that I talk to one of the cancer councilors. I guess having cancer is supposed to mess with you or something. That's fine that SOME people can't cope, but that doesn't mean I can't. I'm fine. FINE, I tell you!
I'll give you some examples of how fine I am:
*True I have to be pulled out of the house kicking and screaming, but I don't see the point in leaving. Everything I need is here.
*While home, I believe in being as comfortable as possible. Where's a person most comfortable? In bed. So, I ask you - is it really so wrong that I spend all my time in bed? I think not either.
*Cooking is for sissies. Back in the old days people had to forage for their food. I'm teaching my family good hunting and gathering techniques.
*I never return phone calls. Ok, now, this one is kind of shaky, because I always was sorta sucky at returning calls. And being the first one to call? Forgetaboutit! I don't do well making phone calls. That's why texting is so amazing! "Sheri?" "Yes?" "Lunch?" "Sure" "When?" "I'll call you."
One day you're fine and happy and the next minute you're puffed up on steroids, boobless, and all your hair is gone. When your looks have been completely stripped of you - it's going to mess with you. It's messing with me. I know. I know! It appears I'm being rude to my family and friends, but dealing with this. I'll talk to the therapist. She's number 452 on the list of people I need to call.