4/30/08

Here's a good synopsis

A very friendly neighbor stopped by yesterday - pulled into my driveway all in a hurry and jumped out of his car. He's not a man of great ceremony - when we first moved in and found out I liked to garden, he went home and came back almost instantly with about 30 perennials I could plant (this is before he knew my name!).

Anyway, he said he wanted to stop by because he had mentioned to his wife that he hadn't seen me clomping around in my boots, ripping up the yard, (such a lovely picture, I am such a feminine woman) and heard I "hadn't been feeling well". I replied, "I'm feeling great! I just wish I didn't have to do chemo..."

So anyway, I'm not kidding that I'm feeling great. I hauled around probably about 2 yards of mulch myself yesterday (except this time I'm not only wearing boots, hauling things, but also I have man hair, too! according to Katie); the other day I went for a walk while Emma was at soccer practice and ended up running for lots of that walk. (That's the beauty of having only one breast, and having it be entirely fake - if you aren't wearing a sports bra, it may never matter, ever again. There is absolutely no movement! So the opportunity for turning anything into a chance to go running is always there, except that I haven't done much running in the past 6 months and so am in horrible shape in that way.)

I also have taken to reminding people (well, ok, only Katie) that I don't have breast cancer anymore. She is always asking me, "Is that because you have breast cancer?" or offering me pretend cakes "because you have breast cancer". Then I tell her, "I don't have breast cancer anymore, remember? It is all gone and now I am just taking the special medicine, just to make sure." Then she said something totally adorable which I wish I remembered...she was going to give me a cake because of the chemotherapy, but she didn't know the word and called it something like "chino-ippy". I just love that girl, and hope she really is as cool about this whole thing as she seems.

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