We got a plan to beat the belly bully today.
We are still trying to figure out timing and when this rumble is going to start.
There are a lot of moving pieces, It depends on when the hospital can insert the port and do an echocardiogram.
But then it’s on!
The cancer chump is going down.
Once treatment starts it will happen every three weeks six times. I will get a delightful cocktail of super aggressive chemo, steroids, and fluids every day during treatment week. I also get to wear a pump all the time for a few days during treatment week, I will carry the pump in a tasteful man purse.
In another fun fashion choice, I will be occasionally wearing a paper mask…pretty much anytime I want to go outside. My immunity will be very low throughout the entire process so I have to live a germ free lifestyle, that will be interesting. Most of my favorite things are germy.
So…18 weeks of treatment…
What is 18 weeks in the span of a lifetime?
It’s basically a semester! I’m ready to see what I learn and how I grow during this semester.
Many people have asked me about my chullet: is it safe? Is it endangered chin fruit? Well…pending some kind of beard miracle, I will lose the chullet.
That’s going to be tough, the chullet has been my fuzzy constant companion for years. It has proclaimed that there is a party on my face. It has served as a scarf in the winter. I’ve hidden food in it. I’ve carried my car keys in it.
I’m going to miss it.
I will probably also lose my eyebrows too, so I’m going to be one freaky looking little dude. You’ve been warned!! Picture Uncle Fester in cargo shorts.
I’m thinking about using a sharpie to draw on eyebrows and facial hair. My look can change daily depending on mood…”these are my angry eyebrows, these are my confused brows. Today I have a Frito Bandido mustache, today I’m Burt Reynolds, today I’ve got a hipster soul patch.” The possibilities for self expression are endless. The chullet will grow back after treatment, but it might grow back different. I’m hoping it grows back red! I’ve always secretly wanted to be a ginger.
I’m ready to step into the octagon, or the infusion room as the case may be.
Let’s do this thing!
The Lord fights for me.
I’m ready to come out on the other side of this semester…smarter, whole, more in love with my Savior, my family, and friends.
Look for me, I will be the hairless, masked little dude with the man purse doing a very undignified happy dance.
carbonated joy 