This is one of the lines of Sophia Petrillo in "the Golden Girls". For one, it is almost impossible to believe that all those vibrant women are gone, all except Betty White. For two, it's almost impossible to believe that I have watched this show almost since it started airing, and now, years and years later, I am actually almost a "Golden Girl".
But anyway, I'm rambling. Back to the point. I do have reasons to wake up in the morning. They are three. One is The Wild Wolf. One is Whisper. And one is Maya. One man and two dogs. Today Whisper decided once again that the Wild Wolf was laying on the couch not to read, but to be rubbing Whisper's belleh. So he went and stepped right on top of him, then flunked himself on his back on his chest, and demanded belly-rubs and kisses.
It took me coming with the camera to take photos to make Whisper go away. He hates the camera. I still managed to get a shot. The second shot was of the floor, Whisper was long gone.
But then life spat in my face again today. I went to get a pulmonary function test. I've been complaining for two years that I'm wheezing when I go to bed at night. I've been complaining for two years that since I had the mastectomy and the Latissimus Dorsi breast reconstruction I cannot breathe right, I feel like I'm in a tight corset. It took them two years to finally order a PLT. I'm looking at those numbers (the tech was kind enough to print the preliminary for me) and it's full of red. 80% of my pulmonary functions have red numbers. Red numbers that - combined with my other symptoms and with the last two CTs - mean that right now I have one of the four: COPD, pulmonary fibrosis, congestive heart failure or sarcoidosis. How horrid does it sound for me to wish I have COPD? I'll guess I'll hear the diagnostic sometime this week. I hope it will be sometimes this week. One of the worst things in a cancer treatment journey is waiting for test results. Waiting for a "yes" or "no" or a number that tells you that yes, you might have the chance of living enough years to eat some cherries from the cherry-trees you planted last spring, or no, you will not have that chance, and you hope that someone will take care of them and will not cut them down.
And today I realized I did another boo-boo (no, no honey boo-boo, I hate that child with a passion). yesterday when I was waiting for the Wild Wolf to come back from the drill I thought of making him some meat-filled pastries, European style. I got a tray of ground pork from the freezer and put it in the microwave to defrost. This evening, when the Wild Wolf went to buy from Lowes a heavy-frame hanging hook, I thought "oh, I should make him some of those delicious meat-filled pastries" and I started to go towards the fridge to get a tray of ground pork from the freezer, to thaw. Half way there I remembered that I said the same thing yesterday, and sure enough, the ground pork tray was in the microwave. I had to throw it away, of course, and didn't feel like making any kind of pastries anymore. I hate chemo-brain. I hate doctors who do not tell you the whole picture of the side effects from cancer treatment and surgeries, and watnots.
Anyway. Tomorrow I need to finish the Tree of Life website and start doing some of the online classes.
Can't wait for spring. At least I'll be working in the garden and will be able, for a while, to take my mind off things. I miss my garden.
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