Dumb ways to die

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Funny Llama, by iregretjumping on Flickr, licensed under Creative Commons

I’m cautiously optimistic. I think my two weeks of feeling like crap are over. Young A and I took a subway adventure to a favorite Thai restaurant in Queens over the weekend, and I ate some larb that cleared my sinuses utterly. I almost prayed, it felt so good to be able to breathe freely again.

I won’t lie, after my last post where I was feeling reassured again, I had a couple more headaches that worried me. A couple more phone calls with Nurse Practitioner K. But nothing seemed to stick around, and as I’m starting to remember through Facebook posts and last year’s blog posts, the fatigue I experienced last year had that as its salient characteristic – it weighed me down. I could barely move. Looking back, I honestly can’t see how I got anything done, let alone commuted to work and worked all day.

Yesterday Young J had a friend over, and before I took them to the schoolyard to play ball, they dumped out all the Lego people and played a game that I have since learned is a video game, Dumb Ways To Die. They had each minifigure meet a horribly ridiculous end. I didn’t listen too closely, but one guy got a flowerpot to the head (complete with flower, I’m sure, because Lego affords you those little details).

And then that phrase got stuck in my head for a while: DUMB WAYS TO DIE. Of all the dumb ways to die, cancer has to be one of them. (Is there any way to die that isn’t dumb? Hmmm.)

My sister in melanoma, Kate, has been in and out of the hospital the past few weeks. She’s in a lot of pain, and her husband is also dealing with Crohn’s disease, so neither of them is working right now. They’ve posted a fundraiser, if you are able to give – even small amounts.

This morning I had a lot of plans for the day. I was going to exercise. I was going to sit at my sweet desk and write. I was going to make meatballs for dinner. Then the continuing gloom of a gray sky and chilly weather got to me, so after moving the car, I came home and sulked.

Luckily, J called. He didn’t call specifically to ask how I was doing, but I realized I was probably sinking into a hole and I hadn’t eaten for a while and things were not going to get better on their own.

So I got up, cooked up some kale (I know, I know, I’m such a Brooklyn stereotype), and as I was cooking the sun came out. So I wolfed down some kale tacos, prepped everything for tonight’s meatballs, and got the hell out of the house on my bike.

I didn’t ride far, or fast, because I’m totally out of shape. That’s why it’s called training. I did ride, though, and it did wonders for my mood, and there was a whole bunch of pristine asphalt on my route, some of which was put down just this morning.

Kale, sun, wheels, fresh asphalt. My needs are astonishingly specific, but luckily, fairly simple too.

If you’ve already supported our bike ride, thank you. If not, and if you can, here you go.

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