The Carrot-Taker and The Dash

Frack has been bringing some repetition books home for us to read at night.

One book, “Who Works at School” has been a thorn in my side because he just is not into it and it came home again.

The story goes like this….

Who works at school?

the teacher

the parent

the librarian

the secretary

the principal

and my favourite

the carrot-taker

———————————-

I got an interesting email from one of my friends called …The Dash.  It’s really good.  If you haven’t seen it before, Google it and watch it.   It’s really good.

In July 2006, a short 3-minute movie was launched on the Internet called The Dash.† Since then, over 40 million people from around the world have watched it; and over 20,000 a day continue to watch it as a result of people passing it along.

The movie has been more successful than we could have ever imagined. More importantly, however, it has inspired many, many people to reflect on their lives and ask that all important question, ‘Are my priorities where they should be?’

Click This Link to View: [ http://www.dashpoemmovie.comwww.dashpoemmovie.com

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Chemo. Fried My Brains

So today, I whisked the kids off at 7:30 in the morning to the dentist.  That was no easy feat.  There was a whole lot of crying going on around here.

“You don’t have an appointment today,” said the receptionist, after I hung up the coats, and just settled in..

“What do you mean I don’t have an appointment”, I answered.  “Isn’t today March 11th?”

“Nope, March 10th”, she responded, “and even the dentist isn’t here yet”.

“See you tomorrow,” I told her.   Of all the crummy luck……

And of course, Frick and Frack were already putting in their orders for a soup and sandwich at the Coffee Time Donut place downstairs.  I had previously told them they couldn’t have anything because after the dentist cleans your teeth, you aren’t allowed to eat for an hour  (plenty of time to by-pass the Donut store and leave with nothing)  But they didn’t have their teeth cleaned and my kids aren’t stupid.  I am.  And I have less money in my wallet to prove it.  I think the Chemo. fried my brains.

On Monday, I had a steroid flashback episode.

I saw fingerprints on the kitchen wall and told Bobo to bring me the can of paint for the kitchen before he went to work.  I was going to do some touch ups.  He brought me the wrong can of paint.  As I was doing the touch-ups I kept thinking that it looked a little bit dark, but I figured it would dry lighter.  That was not the case.  So then I had splotches of paints all over the kitchen.  And you know what that means, don’t you?  Yes, I spent the entire morning painting the kitchen (but not the top part because I couldn’t reach and my arms are still sore).  So I phoned Bobo and told him that 80% of the kitchen was now painted, but not about 2/3 feet along the top, and he needed to do it when he came home.  And, I also added, there wasn’t a heck of a lot a paint left, so he had to use what was left sparingly.

That night, he was as busy as a beaver painting while we were all asleep.  The next day when I woke up, I went into the kitchen and asked him if he had enough paint.  “Oh, I don’t know,” he said.  It was the wrong paint, so I did it all again.  “WHAT!”, I answered.  “Are you CRAZY?”  It was almost done in the butter pecan colour you gave me and you painted it AGAIN!

“Yes”, he answered.  “It looked better white”.

Now who is the crazy one?

Granny Time

I was very excited yesterday after I took a shower and saw little beads of water resting on my 3 mm strands of hair.  Upon closer inspection, I realized that what was coming out of my head was indeed WHITE and I mean WHITE hair.

Nobody said anything about looking like granny when chemo was over!

I may have to stick with the wig for longer than I thought.

Or stay bald on purpose.

I don’t understand why my doctor only gave me enough Tamoxifen for 3 months.

I’m going to phone him and demand a supply for five years.

I don’t care if the pharmacist has to count my pills for the rest of his/her life.

I’ll be damned if I have to pay the dispensing fees 20 times when I could pay just once!

Hey I just thought of something.

Now that my hair is white, it might be easier now to get my hair dyed as a blonde.

Then I can test out the theory that blondes have more fun.

 

Exercise

I went to my course again.  I was late.  Had to call the CAA guy to come zap my battery because I think Frack left his door partially opened 2 nights ago and my interior light was on.

I didn’t stay for the mediation part of the course because I had an appointment with my oncologist. This time they were going to meditate the following phrase, “If you only had 7 days to live, what would you do?”  Now how appropriate is that in a room full of cancer patients?

So I talked to the oncologist about sugar and he said naturopaths are a bunch of quacks.  You need sugar or your brain won’t function.  And yes, stay off sugar if you are diabetic, but otherwise, you need sugar.  He said if you are going to do anything different, then you should exercise.  I’ve been doing that 30 minutes a day, but my legs still don’t feel right.  He said it will take about 1 year for that to happen (get the nerves working properly in my feet) and 3 years for my hands.  I told him that I went into very hot water in the bathtub and didn’t feel a thing until my calves felt it was very hot.  When I got out of the tub my feet were very, very red!  So I have to be careful.

Anyhow, I have to get regular check-ups every 3 months for 2 years and every 6 months after that until 5 years go by.  He is going to set me up with a plastic surgeon too.  I’m not sure if I am going to have it done, but I’ve got 2 years to think about it because thats how long the waiting list is.

P.S.  By the way, I lost my one and only ear ring a while ago and I had nothing to replace it with.

Yes, I fear the diabetes association found all my jewelry in the clothes I donated, and sold

everything.  I have nothing left.

So I went out and bought myself some ear rings.

The best thing is, I can’t lose them because they have a screw in the back.