Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob

  This journal is about my journey with DCIS which began in January 2024. Ductal Carcinoma in Situ. A form of breast cancer. I didn't tell many people. Family, a handful of close friends. I didn't even tell my bosses at the museum where I teach. Somewhere along the line after much prodding and poking, I decided the My DCIS Journey was too boring so retitled the journal Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob.

The Poor, Little Boob has been cancer-free since June 0f 2024, and still has another year of taking hormone therapy and being monitored by an oncologist. My target date for ending the medication and this journey is June1, 2027

After meeting with the surgeon at Dana-Faber Cancer Institute in Boston, I was supposed to meet with the surgical oncologist. She wasn't available so arrangements were made the following day to meet with her over Zoom so I didn't have to make the trip into Boston again.

She told me radiation treatment after the surgery may not be needed, but that decision would be made based on the lumpectomy pathology report. If radiation was required it would be done Monday through Friday for however many days of treatment. I asked if I could have the treatments at the Milford Campus so I didn't have to commute to Boston for several days or live in a hotel close to Dana-Farber. What a relief to hear, yes, that can be arranged.

T Stands for Patrick's Irish Pub

 

Our last night in Weirs Beach we decided to treat ourselves to dinner at Patrick's Irish Pub in Gilford, New Hampshire. This fun leprechaun greets diners as they enter the restaurant. 

Since it was Saturday night the place was hopping. A young man was singing Irish tunes in the bar. The crowd loved it as they were clapping in time to the music. We were given our choice of eating in the bar or in the quieter dining room. We chose the dining room. 

There were lots of choices on the menu. I decided to go with a special of lobster crabcakes with cottage fries and Coleslaw. Teague isn't really a crustacean fan, but she wanted to try something different so she ordered the same. 

We both decided that the lobster crabcakes were amazing and a good choice. I see I forgot to take a picture of my unsweetened ice tea with lemon. You'll have to content yourself with looking at the water mugs behind the leprechaun in the first photo.

Drop by hosts, Bleubeard and Elizabeth's blog to find out what the rest of the T Stands For gang is up to. If you want to play, include in your Tuesday post a beverage or container for a beverage. Don't forget to link your blog to Bleubeard and Elizabeth's page.

Monet

 

and Miro decided to pose along side Pinky and Clyde. I am submitting this piece to the Worcester Art Museum's Art of the Macabre art show and needed to test to see that it would remain upright.

The piece was actually done as part of the homework for the 26 Seeds masterclass I took with Reggie Ezell in 2017.

When the original call for entries came out, I was busy with classes and didn't have time to do something brand-new. Then the Education Department extended the deadline for entries. I remembered this piece and decided to give it a new life. 

On a trip to the Dollar Store, I had purchased a doll for a Halloween decoration. Himself and I went back because I remembered there was a pink doll and an orange doll. They would make perfect heraldic supporters. 

There wasn't time to have the piece properly framed. I had a white mat and cut some chipboard for the backing. Standing up, the edges were rough so I covered the edges with Washi tape decorated with spider webs.  The dolls are attached to the piece by min-bulldog clips under their ghost sheets. The dolls, spider, and the ghosts from Pacman fame (right to left: Inky, Pinky, Blinky, and Clyde) all got a makeover with googly eyes.

The text is from a Scottish prayer:

From ghoulies and ghosties

And long-leggedy beasties

And things that go

bump in the night

Good Lord deliver us

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Waxing Gibbous Moon and cloud

Sunset the night before the Nor'easter. I thought because of the saying Red sky in the morning sailor take warning. Red sky at night, sailor's delight, this storm would fizzle out. 

Gusty winds blowing the Fall decorations didn't bother the goldfinch having a snack at the feeder. It's 4 pm Saturday as I write this. The storm was supposed to be furious at this hour. It isn't. I am not complaining. I wish the weather dudes wouldn't hype the storms.

Happy, Little, Time Waster

 

Pinwheel Gift Wrap

The Friday Five Good Things

 Five good things that happened this week.

1. Calli and Quill left me a gift.

2. I enjoyed an outing at the Dollar Store and Ocean State Job Lots. Himself knows the best places for a date.

3. A retired colleague surprised me in the museum lobby. She's taking a watercolor class. We'll be making arrangements to go out for coffee

4.  I thought I lost my sunglasses at the museum. I filled out a form for lost and found. At home, I found the sunglasses in the pocket of a different jacket I wore the week before and forgot about. I  felt so stupid when I told my friend at the security desk I found my glasses. She said join the club as she thought she had lost her phone.

5. Another trip to the Dollar Store with an idea for displaying an entry in the museum's Art of the Macabre show

How was your week?

TBT Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

  In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

Fun In The Snow

Late in the afternoon, The Young One and I had just finished digging my car out of the snow. Cold and tired we were anticipating a well deserved rest and a cup of hot chocolate when the phone rang. Even before I looked at the caller ID, I knew it was Prissy.

Prissy has her large circular driveway plowed, but the plower doesn't shovel her front walk or clean off her car.

"Does the Young One want to earn some money? I'll pay her to shovel my walk and brush off the car." she asked.

"We just finished digging my car out. Do you have a shovel because I broke my good one?"

"Yes, I have shovels and a broom to brush off the car with."

Ok, give us an hour and we'll come over to do yours."

An hour later, The Young One groaned as we pulled on our boots and grabbed gloves.

"Why does she have to have her car dug out now? She won't be going anywhere." said the Young One looking longingly at the laptop.

"I know, but old people are funny that way. They worry about things." I grabbed the crappy shovel and we crossed the street.

"What does she have to worry about?"

"If the snow isn't cleared she'll worry about things like, if she has a heart attack, how will the rescue people get to the front door? How will the oil delivery man deliver the heating oil? How will the electric company read the meter? Stuff like that."

The Young One made the classic teen face and sighed deeply. Her breath plumed in front of her. She took the crappy shovel and began digging out the back of the car.

Prissy came to the front door with shovels and a broom. I waded up the front walk and she handed them to me.

"I'll put my boots on and come out and help you."

"No, that's ok. We got it covered." The last thing I would need would be for Prissy to have a heart attack while shoveling her stairs. I patted my coat pocket to make sure I had my cell phone with me.

"I don't need the whole front walk shoveled," she said. "Just a path so I can get to the car."

I nodded.

A few minutes later, Prissy came out dressed in her coat, boots, hat and gloves.

"Here, let me help you."

"No! Get in the house!"

"Young One, brush the snow off the car this way." Prissy made motions with her mittened hands and started down the stairs.

"Will you get in the house! Go make me a cup of tea!"

Prissy took another step and started to open her mouth.

"Get in the @%$@# house before you slip and fall and break a hip." I played the trump card. "Go put the kettle on, I want a cup of tea."

Prissy mumbled something and went into the house.

The Young One snickered. "Dude," she called to me. "She just wants to help."

"I know, but the last thing we need is her telling us how to shovel or having to call 9-1-1 to have someone come and pick her butt out of the snow. Besides, if she was able to do this, she could have come out earlier in the day and done this instead of waiting until it was dark. Old people," I grumbled.

The Young One regarded me for a minute and nodded sagely.