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Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka Waka

Pattie has always known what I need. Way back when we were roommates in college, back before all college students had credit cards, Pattie had one, and because of that, we were able to order our first Walkmans. The real things. They allowed us to more evenly tan...we'd turn over at the end of each side of a cassette tape. When the batteries ran out, our time in the sun was up.

Later, she drove me to my wedding.

After my first stillbirth, she helped me bind my breasts when I just couldn't take it any more (again, I know some of you are thinking, "You should just have asked for the drying shot or ignored it" Remember, until recently, I was shot phobic. And I also produced way more milk than the average person, having been capable of exclusively nursing a 30 lb infant and pumping for another baby for 6 months). Anyway, she was there.

She knows that this most recent round of chemo has sucked and that I'm having a hard time finding my fighting spirit.

When I got home today, I found the most mindful care package:

Pacman oven mitts. Waka waka, baby.
Pacman Band-Aids. Guess what will be put over my port puncture next infusion? Oh, yeh.

My fighting spirit is increasing. I'll be in fighting trim here soon.

Thanks, Pattie!

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