Those who know me understand that I was raised a Jehovah's Witness. Still have the psychological scars to prove it.
Anyway, this Facebook group is priceless. I could blow up this fantasy cover up and hang it over my sofa.
Remember ... this group isn't just for gays, per se, but is accepting of anyone abused by this secretive cult. Ex J-Dubs who get together for fellowship, like the BBQ they are planning. Naturally I can't go (with another round of chemo looming) but I'll be there in spirit.
** Gardening for sanity. Trel hard at work. Me dictating from a chair guzzling BOOST and pulling some weeds. **
It's against doctors orders. I'm too fragile they say; I could have a heart attack or a stroke. I can't even take a walk without escort. Too fragile.
But doctors don't know everything. Far from clutchin' my chest and calling "Elizabeth, I'm comin' to join ya!", tending garden with my Boo makes my heart full.
Last year we had just moved into the house, so a big garden was lower priority. This year, despite a health bomb-shell, I arranged to have the garden planted on my way to the hospital. Now, my organic garden -- featuring herbs like thyme, rosemary, basil, cilantro, chives, various mints, garlic (a veggie and herb) and veggies like Swiss Chard, mustard greens, collards, cabbage, various hot peppers, yellow bell peppers, tomatoes, yellow tomatoes, and almost brussel sprouts (but they didn't make it) -- is a symbol of my recovery back to wellness and healthy living for the rest of my life.
This perfect little set. I bought two so me and Trel can garden together without have to share implements.
Sturdy, heavy and gives me the belief they'll be around season after season ....
** A picture is worth a thousand words. Click to enlarge. **
I wasn't frightened at the thought of it. Compared to chemotherapy, radiation therapy is a breeze ... once you get used to strapped down to a table with a custom mask over your face to you remain completely immobile while they strategically zap your tumors with that other gizmo pictures below.
Yeah. A breeze.
In all fairness, the procedure is painless however uncomfortable. Notice they cut a hole for my nose. The first few treatments my uh, nose (my ex called it "bulby") would be so smashed I couldn't breath through it.
I always remembered to open my mouth as they clamped the mask to the table. And notice all the other masks in the background. They are hard as plaster and individually fitted to the patient.
It lasts for about 5 minutes, during which I visualize the tumors get smaller, and smaller, and well, you get the picture.
Four more treatments to go.
Visualize with me .....
Today was a bad day. Maybe its the heatwave and we're in the middle of re wiring the house to accommodate all our AC units. But its so hot I puked on the transport to radiation, then again inside radiation. I'm so hot I'm nauseous. Lots of water today. Lots.