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

The backstory. When I was in computer school, I met a young man, Derry, who started the program a couple of months before me. (The school started a new class each month). He was 13 years older than me. He came to my aid one afternoon when my car wouldn't start. I was going to call the automobile club, but he said he had cables and he jump started my car. He gave the cables to me because he was worried I'd have problems on the road. "At least with cables, you can flag someone down to jump start your car." The following day on break we went out to the parking lot so I could give him his cables back and my car had a flat tire. He was going to change the tire for me and I told him after class, I'd call the automobile club. He wasn't going to have any of that. It was a matter of pride. "Can't have anyone [in there] think what a pantywaist I am that I can't change a tire for a little girl." After that, Derry became another big brother. Sadly, Derry became ill with leukemia and passed away in October 1990 at the age of 48. His birthday was February 16.

February 19 was a Red Letter Day. A letter of approval arrived from the insurance company. I could be treated at Dana Farber Cancer Institute. 

What's astonishing was the letter was dated Friday, February 16. Derry's birthday. The same day I spoke with the insurance representative late in the afternoon to ask for an Organizational Determination. That means that someone gave the approval and had the letter typed and put in the mail shortly after I hung up the phone. I was told it would take 3 or more business days before I got an answer. I received the answer on Monday, February 19.

I think Derry was looking out for me.

T Stands for Blame It On Iris

 

Iris, in  her Tea, Anyone post mentioned Dunnies. A Dunny is an Australian Outhouse. I didn't know what my Tea Day post was going to be about, but then I remembered a gift my friend, K from Australia had sent to me many, many years ago.

She sent two books on dunnies and two souvenir teaspoons that were popular to collect while traveling yonks ago (a long time ago) as K would say. Good reading while you're occupied

The first spoon shows an open dunny. Make sure before you enter or sit down, you check for the deadly Huntsman spider. Embossed on the handle of the spoon is the 'Strine (Australian slang) word "Dinkum" it's usually used as the expression "Fair Dinkum" meaning the real deal.

Back of the spoon.

The other spoon has the cartoon pub from the no longer Australasian Post magazine. The pub was named the Ettamogah Pub by cartoonist Ken Maynard. According to Wikipedia a chain of four pubs were built in various parts of Australia.

Etched on the back of the spoon is the word Sundowner. I think it must be the manufacturer

Here is my new mug that I got on the trip to Lake Winnipesaukee. One morning we went to a small Ma and Pa breakfast restaurant called Sunshine and Pa's.

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

Monet and Me

 

and Miro and Bruce are looking over the Red Book. It's the book that the Massachusetts Secretary of State sends out during state elections that explain the referenda questions to be voted on. This election there are an unprecedented 9 questions to be voted on.

The Red Book explains the pros and cons to voting for each question and helping voters to make informed choices. With 9 questions on the ballot, voting times may be longer than usual. So prepare ahead of time and Vote!.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

 

Sunrise

in

Autumn

The color of the day is yellow

Himself and I spent a long time struggling to get the cover on the hoop house to save the last of the tomatoes from a frost warning. Some time later as we congratulated ourselves on a job well done, a gust of wind blew the cover off.  Another project for Himself and "A" when "A" arrives.

How does your garden grow?

Happy, Little, Time Waster

 

Talking Paper Pumpkin

The Friday Five Good Things

 Five good things that happened this week.

1. After 48 hours, I finally got over the side-effects from the flu and Covid shots.

2. I found the coolest image in a magazine to use in my art journal.

3.  I helped Himself put the cover on the hoop house. After struggling with it, he noticed it was inside out. He said we would just leave it that way

4. Teague and I talked about our trip to Ogunquit next week.

5. I got my hair cut and my favorite stylist was in the salon.

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.

Meltdown

January 6, 2008

Wednesday started out as a promising day. It wasn’t snowing though it was as cold as a witch’s heart. People must have taken an extra vacation day as there was hardly any traffic on the Pike and the tollbooths weren’t backed up. I zipped through in record time and arrived at the Weebles to take them to the heart doctor appointment. The appointment they missed two weeks ago because Ma had to hem her trousers minutes before we had to leave.

Ma was in the living room and since there was time to spare, I sat down for a chat.

One of the psychics Ma sends money to, had sent her a glossy, black and white, 5” x 7” photograph. Ma displayed the picture on the wall among the pictures of the family. The Nephew had christened this woman “Auntie Rose”. Auntie Rose smiled her “You’re Stupid For Sending Me Money” smile. Ma was sitting on the settee under Auntie Rose and as I looked at the photograph, I was wondering who’s picture got taken out of the frame so Auntie Rose could be added to the wall of shame.

Ma was singing her version of the Big Bopper’s “I ain’t got nooo money, Honey.” I supposed I should have kept my mouth shut, but sometimes that’s easier said than done.

“You’d have plenty of money if you didn’t send all your money to your scammers.”

Auntie Rose smiled at me and Ma hit the roof.

I got told in no uncertain terms I had no business telling her what she could and could not do with her money. She didn’t need anybody.

I almost told her to ask Auntie Rose to take her to her appointments and shopping. I did tell her, if it wasn’t for me, she’d be out of luck, words more or less to that effect. We both simmered.

She lamented that Dad doesn’t make her lunch.

“Your not that much of an invalid that you can’t make your own lunch. Do you want him to eat it for you too? There are places for you if you can’t take care of yourself.” I fired a shot across her bow. Maybe it was an unfair shot, but I wish Ma would focus on what she still has and can do instead of woe is her.

“I’d go!”

The car’s warmed up. Let’s go! I’ll happily drive the bus, I thought.

We simmered. Apparently, Dad has been stinging Ma with if anything happens to him, the kids will put you in a home. They aren’t going to put up with you.

Dad came into her crosshairs on the ride to the office. The usual “He’s Stupid” song. We had just gotten into the lobby when he had his meltdown.

“I’m not taking this anymore!”

He tried to brush past me, but I caught him by the arm.

“Don’t be like that.” While I calmly said this I was thinking No way, Pal, I came all the way here, you're going to see the damn doctor whether you want to or not!

“I’m taking the stairs!” He pulled his arm from my grasp and pounded up the stairs while Ma and I waited for the elevator.

The doctor’s office was blessedly empty. Usually it is wall to wall weebles. Ma and Dad went to opposite corners and sat down and simmered.

The doctor was in the office, on time, and took them right away. Another miracle!

I wandered down to say hello to the med tech.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“It’s a wonderful day in the neighborhood…” I sang.

She laughed.

“Where is everybody?”

“I think they all went to Florida.”

Too bad I couldn’t send Ma and Dad to Florida.

“You’ll never guess what happened the last time you were here.”

“What?”

“I spun down the tubes [of blood] and when I took them out of the centrifuge they had broken! I thought of you having to make another trip back so I drove to their house to redraw the blood.”

There really are good people in the world.

From the waiting room, I could hear Ma whining to the doctor. No one does anything for her. She continued her song all the way home.

Dad was in the middle of making lunch for them. I just wanted a cup of tea.

Ma started in on Dad again.

Wham!

We jumped as Dad slammed his fist on the counter making it bounce. He grumbled and made his angry face. The one that used to put the fear of God into us as kids and set us making tracks.

“Ehhhh!”. I yelled the typical Italian retort of annoyance. I finished my cup of tea quickly and announced I had to shove off with the promise I’d return the following day for a trip to Market Basket. Apparently Ma offended Dad’s friend so my reprieve from grocery shopping had come to an end.

At home, I consulted the calendar to see if there was a full moon. Full moon is like a virus. Three days coming, three days with you, three days leaving. The full moon is still coming, but the moon was in waxing new moon phase. Which is a full moon on the dark side of the moon that we can’t see. No wonder the Weebles had a melt down. I began marking the calendar for full and new moon. Guess I'll have to risk the church roof falling in on me while I scoop some Holy Water from the baptismal fount.