FCKuCANCER.

whoo chile. last night…shit got real. literally. but first i guess i need to go back a little further and update you regarding the last list of symptoms…

yeah, yeah, yeah — a lot of them were, in fact, not the cancer. just me, being stubborn and trying to rumble through cancer to the beat of my own drum. in a nutshell, i need to resume reading through my cancer welcome kit and start following directions.

i’m struggling with trying to find the right way to express last night in print. first…have you eaten? you might want to let that food settle, before you buckle in. i’ll give you an updated list of experienced side effects while you calm down.

• lethargy – confirmed.
• hiccups – confirmed.
• hot flashes – confirmed.
• loss of appetite – confirmed.
• loss of focus – confirmed. but not direct result of chemo. just, you know, cancer in general
• acid reflux – debunked.
• loss of voice – confirmed. i forgot to mention this one the last time. when i am tired, you can hear it all in my voice. and it is still jarring to me when i hear it.
• folliculitis – confirmed. this one is fairly new. use your googles, but basically its inflamed hair follicles (pimples) in interesting places. caused by the change in my hormones.
• nausea – confirmed. y’all know what it is.
• diarrhea – confirmed. explanation not needed.
• throat soreness – confirmed. direct result of me not sticking to the ice chips/popsicle regimen.

so basically, last night i got hit with a ton of bricks. like all at once. and it was not pretty. so there we were, elena, sal, and i, just shooting the shit. talking about everything — covid preparedness plans, hollywood scandals, denzel washington movie fails — like a regla, degla night. then all of a sudden, i just became aware that my throat was not right. it started getting mad uncomfortable and i was counting back in my head, like when is the last time you had ice. or a popsicle. are these the mouth sores. are they marching up my esophagus to pillage and destroy. ya girl was freaking out. on the inside.

on the outside — cause ya know…i aint gon’ be no punk — (wait is that a derogatory phrase? i swear its from an old tv show. someone remind me to google. it is never my intent to offend anyone but that yuge dummy in washington.) anywho…on the outside i excused myself to the kitchen to make some ginger peach tea. and yes. i know. exact opposite of what i was supposed to be intaking. what can i say…he ain’t through with me yet people. my intentions were good. tea to calm my throat chased with a glass of ice, because chemo-said-so.

all i can tell you is at the microwave. waiting on the water to get to temp. all bad everything. all at once. i mean this was not a drill. emergency situation. red flag on the play. blocking in the back. defenseless receiver. unnecessary roughness. do not pass go. do not collect the two hunnid. go straight to jail — or in my case, the toilet.

man, my stomach dropped to what felt like my tippy toes in an instant. my mouth started watering. and i started riding the wave of ten thousand suns. did i mention this was all at the same damned time. cause it was. i’m moaning to sal to grab the nausea meds. and a cold towel. and a bucket. it was turrible. i was in there for what felt like hours. and just as soon as they all rushed over me. they vanished in equal measure.

now i wish i could tell you that was the end of it. but it wasn’t. that triple threat took me down a few times last night. and man. the things that came out of me. the sheer volume. magnitude. bigly. i really just need to pen a calligraphic apology letter to that porcelain throne. cause he took that shit like a champ. literally. and at the end of the day…that’s the best any of us could ever ask for.