Goodness gracious, the year's almost over.

I've never really been one for resolutions. I thought about jacking Sushi's Year In Review, but that looks like a lot of work. We'll see how long the Vicodin keeps me awake, and honestly, my memory's not so great. Not sure I could think back that far.

I was just thinking, I've been truly blessed this year in my friends. I've got a pretty awesome support group. The year kind of turned into a shit fest for me, but my friends have all been there, making fun of my crippled ass and making me laugh (which is really the most important thing.)

And I don't just mean the friends who I see on a day-to-day basis. Most of you I've never met, but I love you to death, and I appreciate all the good vibes and support you've thrown my way. I've whined about laxatives and joint pain, and wonderful little miracles of medicine that won't do their fucking job, and falling off the curb like a tard, and you put up with my shit and tell me it'll be alright, and that I look awesome bald (like I didn't know that... Come on, it's me. I could rock an orange jumpsuit and a mullet and make that shit look sexy. But if I ever do... Please hit me. Mullets are not the hotness.) And I just love you kids. So thank you.

I want to hunt each of you down and give you a big ole hug. But not like a full-on frontal hug. I'm not down with that. Maybe just one of those one-arm hugs. With a couple pats on the back.

I was trying to explain to my mother when she was here about all of you, (And about this crazy canadian chick I need to go visit, especially once I move back home and am just a few hours away), and she got all weirded out. She's all, "You know them thru the internet? You don't know who they really are. That chick could be some man in prison somewhere..." But it's not like that. And even if Cher is some weird dude in prison who likes impersonating canadian chicks, I full on love you man. And that goes for all of you. I full on love you. In a strictly platonic way of course.

Who are you calling a cootie queen you lint licker!

Edit: Californiakay: Now with more fiber... And pictures.

I'm here. I'm mostly still alive. I'm fed up with this Chemo bullshit. Seriously. It is not of the lord.

My hair started falling out 2 weeks after my first chemo. I couldn't stop pulling it out either. It's like scratching at your chicken pox. It's wrong, you know it's wrong, but you have no intention of stopping. So, the hair started the great gravitational migration to the ground on a Tuesday, and by that weekend there wasn't much left: Sunday night I realized there was no way I was going into work that way, so I hacked it off with the scissors, then buzzed the rest off. Almost immediately I realized that having no hair upon one's head is a very cold way to go thru life. I have been rocking beanie's religiously since that Sunday night. Even to bed. And if my beanie falls off my chrome dome in the middle of the night, I wake up freezing, and search for it in my pile of blankets.

Blogger's being a punk ass little bitch right now, and not letting me add any pictures, but I assure you, I have pictures to share with you.

I've felt like completely and utterly asstastic since roughly Thursday. The doc has decided they shall start giving me a shot the day after chemo every time now to help boost my white blood cell levels, and good God it sucks so badly. Every muscle and joint in my body has ached for days. The pills they told me would fix it (Claritin. The fucking allergy medicine) hasn't done a Goddamn thing, and as of today Percocet won't help me either. I want to whine and cry like the punk ass little bitch that I am.Edit: This is a shot from one end of the "Chemo Room." It's just a bunch of recliners full of sleepy people and IV poles.

To answer some of the things brought up recently in the comments:
Jerk: I don't remember that deal, but a deal's a deal. You just have to clear it with MarkyMark. I'm sure sex with you has to be better than chemo. Do you induce vomiting and hair loss?

Holland: I assure you, I am fucking sexy as Ms. Clean. It's astounding how awesome I look bald. My dear mother told me I should even think about rocking this look after my hair comes back. I told her she's fucking crazy.

Stone: You're right. We should start our own club, and only follicly challenged people can join. It'd be awesome. Just cuz we're there. Props on the Blazing Saddles shout out there too.

Sushi: I'm down for the scalp tattoo. That'd be fucking bad ass.

Cher: Sometimes you leave me a little bit speechless. I swear I'm going to send it... I just don't really leave my house much right now. Like at all. I got the box from the post office. I just lack the motivation to send it. It'll happen. Don't give up on me.

Inner Voices: It's weird how my hair is falling out. I still have a bit on the top of my head. My eyebrows and lashes go thru little spurts where I seem to lose a bunch, then they're content to stay again. My arm and leg hair seems to want to stick around, not losing any of that. And the "bikini area," I've lost like half of it. That I'm not losing all my hair all at once is weird to me. I guess I just expected to wake up one morning and for it all to have gone away. I wouldn't mind that at all. Think about it girls, no more shaving! I can't fucking wait, but of course, my body seems to have other plans. Anyway, I can't actually get a tattoo till after the chemo and radiation are thru. Apparently my body would have a shite time healing and all right now. The parlor you mentioned sounds awesome. What's it called? When I had mine done, it was by some smelly old guy in a place that had bars on the windows. It's a miracle I didn't get an infection...

I can't wait till all this is over. I want my body to go back to behaving in a normal fashion, doing what I ask of it, nothing more, nothing less. I know the odds of that happening are pretty slim. My hair will most likely come back a different color or texture. I'm most likely going to end up sterile. My doc said it's possible that I might even go into Menopause. Fuckin A right? I'm tired of being tired.

In other news: Crossbow got a cute new puppy (a mini Pinscher named Diamond. So cute). Hefe's staring to settle in over in whereeverthefuck he is. ThanksgivingGirl got another kitten that I have not yet seen but really want to. I got to see RunnerGirl last week and I miss her like crazy and gave her a bazillion hugs, and told her I absolutely hate her. The girl is 5 months pregnant and has gained 3 pounds. 3! She doesn't look pregnant at all, except for the tiny little bump that is her belly. MarkyMark was here a couplefew weeks ago, and took absolutely wonderful care of me and I had wonderful food and wonderful sleep for 5 beautiful days. Damn school for making MarkyMark leave again.

I love you all, lots and lots. I'll come back some time and try to get up the pictures that Blogger doesn't want you to see. I've been around, I've been reading you all, even if I don't comment (I'm really bad about that... Sorry. I have Chemo-Brain. I can't formulate coherent thoughts. But I'm still following along with you all.) I just haven't really had shit to say about me. Or when I have, I haven't felt like sitting down and getting it out here. My bad. I'll try to work on that. If you want to get get ahold of me, email's probably best. That has a 1 in 3 chance of me responding same day. This.... Anyway, don't be afraid. Hit me up: kay_fro @ Hotmail
Love Love kiddies

"that's my cubicle. I sit in there."

Not random enough? What if I told you the little rabbit by the fire said it? What now?

Ok, so it was actually MarkyMark.

Wednesdays are supposed to be my chemo days. Every other Wednesday anyway.

Today my buddy, uh... I don't think he has a name on here. So the nameless one picked me up at 0730, and off we went. The nurses connected the IV to my port, took some blood for my weekly tests, and then I went to talk with my doc. She gave me some new nausea meds, a new laxative (yea for laxatives! Fuckin not), a stool softener (Apparently we "mush, then push." My doctor actually used those words), and a mouthwash that's supposed to prevent Thrush (so no more yeast infections in my mouth. Yeah, that's right. I had a yeast infection in my mouth. Sick right?)

So all my blood levels looked good, except my white blood count. Which is freakishly low. So I am to avoid all salad bars (I thought I was already supposed to do that...), little people, animals that haven't been vaccinated, animal poo, and people who may or may not be sick. So I'm quarantined.

My hair started falling out yesterday. Like hard core. I was in the shower, and you know how you run your hands thru your hair and some comes out? It just kept coming. Every time I ran my hands thru it. It's not possible to wash one's hair without running your hands thru it. Or perhaps I wash my hair wrong... Who knows.

So I lost a bunch there, then when I was brushing it... Well, see for yourself. Then today, more of the same. I usually put my hair up into a messy bun, and that proved rather difficult this morning. The shit wouldn't stay in my head. It just kept coming out. It's a bit freaky, but hey, MarkyMark'll have to stop calling me Cousin It right? Oddly, the hair on my head seems to be the only hair making The Great Migration to the floor. It's fucking everywhere. All over my shirt, my truck, my floor. It bugs me. I'm very tempted to find someone with shears and just end it all. But... I have to go to work the next two days now that my chemo didn't happen. Have to rock the sock bun now. Have a random knee pic (from right after surgery), since I can't find a picture of my sock bun. I know I've got one, I just can't find it.

Alright. I'm fucking tired. But just so it's not all about me, Cher's awesome. You should go check her out if you haven't already. I've been meaning to link her up for awhile, she cracks my shit up. Also not about me, Sushi's been going thru some shit, and she could use all the good vibes and/or prayers you can spare. Much love to you chica.