My reaction when the cashier at Brooklyn Bagels tells me they can only give me the jam packets, they can’t put the jam on the actual bagel and I’m standing there in a hurry wondering how the shit I’m going to spread jam on my bagel in the car on the way to my infusion and helplessly staring a the jam packets
(Can’t? Won’t? Whatever Bagel Nazi. Taking my unspread jam to the promise land without you.)
My reaction when I realized that getting stared at because of your exposed port is not much different from getting stared at because you have large boobs.
My reaction when I figure out that drinking at least two bottles of gatorade and infusing 1.5 liters of saline each day is actually calming my migraines down–a LOT.
Loading up on those empty calories because no pain killers!
My reaction when a (non-specific) work thing had been in the works for several months and some important papers came through and I was asked nonchalantly if I wanted to sign them now…SWEET JESUS WHERE IS MY PEN?
My reaction when I hear the doorbell ring, run downstairs with my IV attached, trying not slam the pole into the ceiling on my spiral staircase, rush to open the door (in case it’s another UPS that needs a signature) and it’s a guy selling magazine subscriptions:
Do I look like I was just in a dead sleep? Because I was.
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