catheroominations

Today I entered a radio contest online. After I submitted my entry, I was taken to a page that said, “Good luck, Foghead.” But for some reason, my eyes crossed and went all freaky and what I read said “Good, F*ckhead.”

This morning, in a parking lot I saw a guy walking into Starbucks, wearing a too-snug shirt that said “An awkward morning beats a boring night.” He should consider who he is walking with in the morning while wearing that shirt. Because, judging by the mustachioed man he was walking with, I beg to differ. You know how I feel about those things.

I received my first blog toast today. Kathy (we need to talk about how you misspell your name) clinked bottles with me. At 11 am this morning. She was drinking a beer and then going to sleep, like I did last night. But IN THE MORNING. What I didn’t realize is she had just gotten home from her night shift as an oncology nurse. Bless you, Kathy. Despite spelling your name wrong (wink) I have tremendous respect for you and the work you do. If I met you, I would probably want to hug you for all you do. And you would think I was a lunatic, because, “Hello! I just met you, get off me, please!” So, let me just say “Thank you, Nurse Kathy.” (And cheers to you!)

*Yes, I know that is incorrect English. I could care less.**
**That is also incorrect English. The proper way to show apathy is to say “I couldn’t care less” or “I could not care less,” which implies that you care as little as possible about it. As in, you could not care less than you already do. “I could care less” means, well, that you are capable of caring less about it than you do so maybe you do give a little bit of a crap about whatever it is.***
And oh yeah, the word irregardless is stupid. It means regardless, so just let’s all just say regardless, mmkay?
This concludes your grammar lesson for the day.

I worked for 12 hours today. TWELVE hours.

I drank two heart-palpitating venti cappuccinos today. TWO.

Until FDA Audit Week of Oh Seven, I had never had a venti anything, and I nearly never worked a 12-hour day. Today’s added dose (or four) of caffeine and extra hours that were manditorially (is that a word?) added to my Monday got me through the completion of our 5-day audit by the Food & Drug Administration of the U. S. of A.

And we passed, whew! Quite an accomplishment. And I would raise my bottle to that, except I am too tired to lift it. So I will stick this bendy straw into my beer and say: CHEERS!

And goodnight.

This is on our patio right now. For the longest time, I thought it was a snail stuck to our wall. But then there was a wasp sitting on the snail, which seemed weird to me.

There is a wasp creeping over the top of the nest in the photo. Therefore, this is the last shot I took before running into the house with the heebie jeebies.

Maintenance is coming to remove the nest. I’m not a fan of the wasp…that particular wasp, or any of its friends or family. I have never been stung by one, and I’d like to keep it that way. (No offense, Mr. Wasp, or Mrs. Wasp, but I’m having your home demolished.)

My dad’s surgery went well. The surgeon was a little surprised that his tumor was as large as it was (about grapefruit-sized and weighing in at 4 lbs), but he got the entire tumor out, and sealed him back up. Thankfully, my dad will not need to walk around with a colostomy bag during his recovery. This made him very happy when he found out and I think that alone will be a boost to his morale during this…to be able to go about his daily “business” as normally as possible.

When he was in recovery, I went in to see him. He was groggy, of course, but he was coherent enough to hold a conversation, and to mention something about calling Britney Spears (they have similar hairdos, since my dad recently shaved his entire head…and his bearded face. I do not think Brit suffers from excessive facial hair, but some believe she did play the “beard” in her relationship with Justin).

Pre-surgery, the tumor must have been causing him immense pain, because he feels awesome now. He needed almost no pain meds the first day after surgery, and the only time he hit his pain meds button was when the nurses suggested he do so because they were going to get him up out of bed. On a scale of 1 to 10 pain-wise, he said the highest he got was a 2.

He’s already been walking around. Without pain. Dude, my dad rules!

He wants to go home, of course, but I’m sure he’s entertaining his nurses with his crazy stories. I talked to him tonight and he said he’d been telling his new nurse about my wedding.

His surgeon removed some lymph nodes to biopsy and the results will tell us whether he will need chemo, and how much. Obviously I’m hoping he won’t have to deal with chemotherapy, but I think now, after the surgery was so successful, my dad will opt to do whatever comes next. His morale is great. He’s still got a long road ahead of him, but it’s hard to be depressed around such a cheerful patient. Plus, he kind of looks a lot like Don Rickles now, with his bald head and shaved face.

We’re hoping he comes home by Sunday, and we’ll have a big celebration, complete with his favorite foods. Pureed, of course. Yummy! If he’s not home yet, we’ll visit him in his sterile hospital room, and listen to his machines beep. That will also be fun. Because my dad will be there.

Thank you all for your kind words, thoughts, and prayers. My family and I really appreciate it, and if you could keep it coming, that’d be cool. Look for an open letter to cancer coming soon. I’m warning you right now, you with virgin ears (or eyes, I guess) might want to rent Reservoir Dogs to acquaint yourselves with the language.

Our wedding was near perfection. The weather was sunny and not too warm. While getting ready, everything (for me) went swimmingly. The hair appointments ended early, which was great, since my florist delivered my flowers early, and my make-up artist was early. The photographers? Early. I had no stress at all.

Except for one thing. The thing I didn’t want to think about. When we were first planning our Big Day, this was far from my thoughts, like galaxies away.

But a couple of weeks before the wedding, I learned that this uninvited guest, who I detest, would be at my wedding. This asshole has destroyed the lives of people I love, and the bastard had NO PLACE at my wedding, or anywhere near anyone I love. Not on that day, or any other day. Just leave people the hell alone.

But cancer doesn’t care that it’s not invited. And it doesn’t discriminate in choosing where it infests. This time, it is in my father’s colon. Never mind that my father already had prostate cancer, and beat it. (Take that, @#$%er!) Cancer couldn’t care less if and when it returns. It’s evil, hateful, and persistent and I wish it would stay the f@#$ away from my family and friends.

Before he knew what was making him feel so sick, my dad told doctors that no matter what it turned out to be, he didn’t want to do anything surgical until after May 25. He would walk me down the aisle. He has looked forward to that fatherly duty for years, and nothing was going to get in the way of that, despite my telling him he should do whatever he needed to medically, no matter when he needed to do it.

He was tired on my wedding day, and sat to rest quite a bit throughout the festivities. But you couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. He gave a toast that made me cry and made me laugh. He danced with me to Neil Diamond singing When You Wish Upon a Star, and smiled. My friend June took about 30 pictures of him that day, just to capture his emotions. Those are some of my favorite shots. I gave him a frame with these two, for Father’s Day.

Tomorrow he goes in for surgery, to remove the cancerous tumor from his colon. A tumor that has NO PLACE being anywhere near my father. His recovery will be long and difficult, and he may have to endure chemotherapy. I will not tell him what he should or should not do regarding treatment. Whatever he chooses, it is his decision. But personally, I would like him to kick cancer’s ass so hard, it will never come near him again.

He could use your prayers, good vibes, positive thoughts, and/or whatever special wishes you can offer. I am hoping for a surgery that is as uneventful as possible. And I can’t wait to see his smile again.

…along with his friends Andy and Stewart.

The Police played at the Oakland Coliseum last night for the first time in twenty-four years. I was there, twenty-four years ago, which means I am old. Because only an old person would go to a show on The Police reunion tour and ask for ear plugs at the first aid station. And only someone old (or someone getting over the stomach flu) would not drink one drop of alcohol at said reunion concert, even though new favorite beer by Kona Brewing Company was on tap. Damn flu.
keep reading So this guy named Gordon* kept me up too late last night