Archives for category: Silly

For today’s Health Activist Writers’ challenge post, I have a challenge for you.

I challenge you to join the WRF, the World Resting Federation. Yes, you read right, the World Resting Federation. Yeah, we get confused with another world federation. We have a similar name plus we also wear really cool costumes and have cool names. My resting name is Googly Eyes. We also engage in bouts to see who is the hardest rester. I am able to use the mesmerizing power of my cattywampus bosoms to render my opponents wide-eyed while I catch some major z’s.

Are you ready to rest with the best?

Come see my next match.

It’s on Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!

Limited edition commemorative pj’s will be on sale.

smiley t shirt small

I have so many thoughts, meaningful ones, and I just can’t get them organized into a post. Boo, brain! Oh, I take that back. Brain, you’ve been through a lot and it’s okay for you to take a rest. Remember when this happened after our last major surgery, the mastectomy? Other body parts need a lot more energy now for healing. Frontal lobes, you are low on the priority list right now. I’ve had a very expensive and extensive stabbing by a highly trained surgeon. Parts were rearranged. My spare tire was made into a headlight. It’s only natural that there would be less energy for thoughts other than self-preserving ones, like “Hey, Self, remember no drunken table dancing until six weeks past surgery!”

I have the ingredients for a meaningful, uplifting, and moving post but neither a bowl nor spoon by which I can mix them into blog magic.

This reminds me of something. I remember when I lived in North Carolina, there was column in the local paper that was meant to be a place holder. However, the real article never made it to the published edition of the paper. So there was a column that read something along the lines of, “This article will be of interest to a wide variety of readers, blah, blah, blah.”

So until I can get my ball bearing thoughts organized, here’s a placeholder:

This blog post will be so absorbing, humorous, and meaningful that each reader will be ever happy and ever healthy. And neither the reader, the reader’s children, or the reader’s children’s children, will ever again experience being stuck in traffic. Finally, drunken table dancing will always result in only positive consequences.

You’re welcome.

One of the ball bearings that would have made your life perfect.

One of the ball bearings that would have made your life perfect.

I had a check-up with Dr. Welk yesterday to get my stitches taken out of my belly button. (Oh yeah, I neglected to mention that a consequence of removing a lot of abdominal tissue when creating the TRAM flap, means that the belly button needs to be attached to new skin and fat. So, my belly button is in the same place, but it’s been stitched to a whole new abdominal environment.)

Everything continues to look excellent and Dr. Welk told me that he doesn’t need to see me for another month. John and I had a number of questions, which basically boiled down to “What would Elizabeth have to do to completely wreck the TRAM surgery and need an even bigger surgery to fix it?” And no, we are not paranoid, Dr. Welk had told us of this possibility.

So here’s the “don’t” list:

1) No bathing or walking of really large dogs, who may run away unexpectedly, while you are still holding on to them.

2) No drunken table dancing.

My weekend plans are ruined.

Dear Surgical Drain,

I know I broke up with you last summer after our little fling. Against my better judgment, I took you back last week when I got the TRAM surgery. Maybe I was thinking that things would be different this time. After all, there was you AND another drain. What could be spicier than co-milgling with bulbous plastic twins? However, this threesome, instead of being exciting, was just awkward and messy. Although I can’t speak from personal experience, I suspect this is oft true of other ménage à trois type situations.

But again, I do thank you for serving your purpose and keeping me from swelling up like Violet Beauregarde. My breast cancer experience has contained far too many references to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Roald Dahl.

Keep on keeping it real,

Elizabeth

You should be so glad that I screened out the grosser images of Jackson-Pratt drains, which came up in my Google images search. This one is unused and straight out of the package. You’re welcome.

This blog was posted on 8/1/12. This stressful period of my life was good comedy material, prompting my brother to quip, “Cancer has made you clever.”

You remember who was in the chorus of the Gene Wilder musical classic? Yes, the Oompa Loompas. And what color were the Oompa Loompas? Yes, they were orange. And what color were my roots after using an unfortunate shade of Clairol Natural Instincts? Yes, they were a very deep shade of overripe cantalope. “Natural” Instincts, my ass!

I’ve never messed up a hair color before but I haven’t done it myself for several years and apparently, Clairol Natural Instincts uses a totally different formula than they did when I last used their products. And they are on a melon kick! Not to be seen in public (other than going to Target to get a fix for this), I used a non-permanent, normal looking reddish brown dye today. Ah, much better. Most of the melon is gone.

The Oompa Loompas would say that my parents are to blame for this mishap (“…the mother and the fa-ather”). However, the same thing happened to my mom and she warned me about it. When did I remember this? After I rinsed the color out of my hair! So, I’ve decided to blame Roald Dahl.

It will be so nice to be able to go back to the salon. It will happen.

P.S. The color was just like this except MORE orange. No lie.

The Oompa Loompas after disobeying their lax parents in the Clairol Factory and falling into a vat of Natural Instincts “Dark Auburn.”

Seattle is a very hilly city. Compared to other major U.S. cities, Seattle it ranks second. (San Francisco is number 1, not surprisingly.)

A few days ago, I slept in instead of going walking at my usual time. I ended up getting to work early and taking a shorter walk in the neighborhood surrounding my office. I decided to walk on a long hill rather than taking a winding route since Seattle is full of twists and turns and dead ends, due to the aforementioned hills. I wanted to make sure that I would make it back to my office in time for my first patient.

So here is my photo chronicle of my fight with the hill, The Thrilla up the Hill-a.

Okay, the hill is a little steep but I'm coming out with a perk in my step, light on my feet.

Okay, the hill is a little steep but I’m coming out with a perk in my step, light on my feet.

It's heating up. The gloves come off! (Thanks, exercised induced hot flash.)

It’s heating up. The gloves come off! (Thanks, exercised induced hot flash.)

Okay, the fight's slowing down a little. The incline is flattening out a bit.

Okay, the fight’s slowing down a little. The incline is flattening out a bit.

Wait, this hill goes on and on! I have been fooled!

Wait, this hill goes on and on! I have been fooled!

The hill continues, but I am now in "Church Alley" and get spiritual support from Seattle Lutheran High School to my right and West Seattle Christian to my left.

The hill continues, but I am now in “Church Alley” and get spiritual support from Seattle Lutheran High School to my right and West Seattle Christian to my left.

I made it! Holy Rosary Church greet me at the end of the battle.

I made it! Holy Rosary Church greet me at the end of the battle.

Okay, so the truth is that the “Thrilla up the Hill-a” was not the “fight of the century”. It was actually fairly easy. I did not have to take the hill to 14 rounds to knock it out, unlike Mohammed Ali and Joe Frazier. It was enjoyable but didn’t make me stretch all that much. Maybe it was the “Thrilla of Vanilla.”

I’m a lot stronger than I thought I was and I’m going to keep fighting for good health and peace in my life.

Okay, people think about cancer and an immediate thought is often hair loss. Fortunately, I did not have to endure chemo and all of its yucky side effects.

This does not, however, mean that I was spared from my cancer treatment having any impact on my hair. As I have over-shared so frequently in the past, I take hormone blocking medication because my breast cancer grew in response to lady chemicals, estrogen and progesterone.

I take Lupron, which “shut down my ovaries” by disrupting the signal between my pituitary gland and my ovaries. So my ovaries do not make progesterone and estrogen.

Other parts of the body make estrogen, though, for example, adipose tissue (fat and other stuff). This is one of the reasons that being overweight is a risk factor for breast cancer. This is why I walk three miles a day and eat the way I do. I was overweight and want to stay a healthy weight.  I take another medication, Tamoxifen, that works by preventing estrogen from binding to cells in the body.

I have surmised that I have less estrogen in my body than a menopausal woman because my estrogen is getting knocked out two ways. I may be wrong about that but lets just say that my level of female hormones is well below average for a woman, even a woman of my age.

The first change I noticed was the introduction of hot flashes. Another change was that I’ve been getting hairier. At first I noticed more hair above my lip. Last week, I noticed a downy fuzz of barely visible hair on my cheeks and jaw. The last time I checked, I was not a 13 year-old boy.

Aaaaaaaaah! I’m the bearded lady!

But the silver lining is that just as I am a good looking breast cancer patient (with so many of us ladies having to get chemo, it’s an easy bar to clear), I’m pretty good-looking for a bearded lady.

And maybe I can make a little extra circus moolah on the side to help pay the medical bills.

Another, good-looking bearded lady, Annie Jones toured with Barnum and Baily Circus. From Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bearded_lady

Another, good-looking bearded lady, Annie Jones toured with Barnum and Baily Circus. From Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bearded_lady

 

Earlier today, I referenced the Journal of Polymorphous Perversity. It was a real psychology journal. Actually, it was a real fake journal. It was kind of like The Onion for psych nerds. I’ve read a couple of the articles over the years and they were pretty funny. The Etiology and Treatment of Childhood is particularly funny.

If you know some psych and research lingo, you might want to check it out!

We can all use a little polymorphous perversity from time to time.

Yesterday, my hubby complained of being hot and not feeling well. I thought that perhaps he had caught menopause from me and was having hot flashes. Given that I caught menopause from a hypodermic needle (full of Lupron), it makes sense if you think about it. Today, he feels much better.

As a former university researcher, I conclude that menopause in males is a 24 hour condition. I think I will write a paper on this and submit it to the Journal of Polymorphous Perversity. (See an example of one of their premier articles, Oral Sadism and the Vegetarian Personality.)

Hi 2013,

First, I must admit that I’ve had other relationships. This is not my first visit to the rodeo that travels around the sun. You are my 48th. Most of the relationships were good and I learned a great deal. 2011 and 2012, however, kind of stunk. In 2012, for example, I discovered that I had breast cancer. Although I have mostly healed from the six surgeries I had in that year, I am not eager to have any more big bad stressful stuff happen other than what’s already planned, like my next surgery in March. So please do me a favor and be a little on the boring side. I’ve kind of had it with the “bad boy” years. Boring and stable sounds good to me

For my part, I promise to continue to eat healthy, meditate daily, exercise, and participate in my healthcare by attending all of my appointments and following recommendations.

I am happy to show my appreciation by providing you with an endless supply of gluten-free baked goods!

Lindbergh High School Reunion '82, '83, '84, '85

Join us this summer for our reunion in Renton, WA!

George Lakoff

George Lakoff has retired as Distinguished Professor of Cognitive Science and Linguistics at the University of California at Berkeley. His newest book "The Neural Mind" is now available.

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