A pinkish hue

Dare I say I have a bit of a pinkish hue today? And as much as I'd like to be George's ideal woman, I can't admit to a good brow as well. They're a bit thin, but still hangin' around.

I'm down to consuming my rescue pill and my rescue pill alone so far today, but I promised my onc that I would damn the feeling of being backed up and swallow the harsher ondansetron if I really felt the need to hurl. Since Pete will be home tomorrow and the girls go back to school on Tuesday, it will be easier to cope with side affects.

After dealing with the horror that was Friday's round four, I realized I hadn't really honed my "special place"; my vision of calmness or go-to meditation spot that should help me through the rough patches. I have my meditation table, to be sure, but it's a momentary, right in front of me place when I need to focus my brain on tumour blasting thoughts. Being a lapsed Catholic and a girl afraid of all other organized religions, I haven't developed an alternate god to help me through all this garbage that still, after three months, doesn't really seem like it's happening to me.

Then I read all the lovely, sweet comments on this blog o' mine and think, damn, girl. You don't need no stinkin' god. You have all this love n' support out there that gets shot into my heart like a cannon when I need it most. And I do carry that stuff around when I have a brutal moment. Them fightin' words you all give me come back when I think, shoot, man, I can't do this.

So thank you, my peeps. Y'all have given me the pinkish hue.