Ramblings....

I have had seven or is it eight butt injections now. My blood markers have come down slowly. It would appear that I am hanging with Reggie. News that should have me crowing, but no. This is all so futile since in the end, these damn tumors will take over. On my good days, I hope for 8 years. Hoping for more than that brings some weird superstitions to the fore, and I am not even superstitious!

This week has been the week of gigs, and at yesterday's C. who I haven't seen in ages actually asked me directly how I was doing. She is the first person who has asked this, and actually meant it. For the first time, I lied. I wish I could create a picture of what my brain did as it processed this question. I felt little lights blinking, and for a nano-second I considered telling the truth, and then even faster rejected that as too risky, and then lied.

Why? Because I am finally being treated like a person instead of a person-with-cancer. I still don't fully understand why after getting sick in 2005, the calls for gigs simply dried up. There is no question that the amount of work out there is decreasing, and I was never a gig-whore, so maybe it was all a co-incidence. There is no way to know.

The irony is, I am finally being treated as a person again, and now I am once again a person-with-cancer. Irony is a type of humor right?