‘Twas the night before chemo, my nausea meds I sort.

Not a creature was stirring, not even my port.

that loudmouth had finally fallen asleep,

dosing off suddenly without even a peep.

 

I prepped my chemo bag before going to bed,

a Tiffany song, stuck in my head.

Oh, where did it come from, I hummed along,

to “I Think We’re Alone Now”, another “Port” song.

 

Trying to remember all of the things I would need

distracted, remembering Little Pissy had peed.

my blood draw is scheduled for 8:45,

then four hours of poison to keep me alive.

 

Miss Kitty, my driver, to chemo and back,

Maybe stopping for coffee and perhaps a snack.

The day will go quick and easy I hope,

followed by cold sensitivity, with which I will cope.

 

Friday night I will spend out with my friends,

the following morning, we’re all on the mends.

If we do anything Saturday, it will be up to me,

they can tie one more on and have a D.D.

 

They’ll be dashing and dancing and prancing like vixens.

I imagine them easily one-upping the Kittens.

Into the mini, I’ll hope none of them faint or fall,

Make the kittens proud and dash away tall!!

 

The next week for recovery and to update the blog,

may  the chemo blanket the cancer like a thick fog.

Another treatment will be over and under my belt,

Happy Chemo to all, cheers to warmth and snow melt!!!!

 

Twas the night before chemo, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even port mouse.

The chemo bag was hung by the door with great care,

In hopes I don’t forget it…that would be a scare.

 

The Gaybors are nestled all snug on their barstools,

All ordering shots…gosh, I hoped they carpooled.

And Missy Kitty in her ‘uniform’ and I in a toque,

Had just taken Shelbie out for a really big poop.

 

When out on the street came the sound of loud chatter,

I pranced to the door to see what was the matter.

Out in the street in what looked like a sled

Sat the Kittens in mittens and looking inbred.

 

They mooned me and laughed and rolled in the snow

It was clear they were drunk…with bottles in tow.

When, who with his wondering eyes should appear,

But Dejarlo, their driver, and eight more cold beers.

 

He hit on the Kittens with persistence and flare,

He whistled, and shouted…their full moons still bare!

With a very drunk driver, I knew there’d be trouble.

I told them to stop but the Kittens poured doubles!

 

“Now Pissy! now, Itty! now, Cancer and Big Titty!

On, Panther! On, P! on all the Mac D’s!

To the top of the Arch! Then on to the Hat!

Good luck with chemo Jill, we just came to say that!”

 

Now dash away! Crash away! Prance away all!

They all jumped in the sled…clearly having a ball.

I heard them exclaim as they pulled out of sight.

“Happy chemo to all…and to all a good night!”

Chemo number 4 is upon us ladies and gentlemen…. In case no one told you,  cancer is cool. It is the new method of judging social status. I am cooler than some of you…. most of you… except my parents… and their parents (they’ve already had cancer)… so cool, so sheik… everyone is talking and singing about cancer… it is all the rage…

I can tell you are all green with envy, BTO.  Well hopefully next week will bring some news, good news. Hopefully Cinnamon (not the stripper) has helped… I heard cinnamon (maybe if I don’t capitalize it, it won’t look like a name) can cure cancer. I have had one cup of tea this week with a lot of cinnamon and cinnamon toast crunch cereal this morning for breakfast… I’m basically cured… I have canceled all future chemo treatments…. THANK YOU CINNAMON…. LET’S ALL GIVE CINNAMON A ROUND OF APPLAUSE… and some dollar bills… MAKE IT RAIN CINNAMON… make it rain girl… set the cancer free…

Cancer and Cinnamon, Cinnamon and Cancer…

This will likely make no sense to most of you… sorry…