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Piss Poor

Today was a doozy. I had to drive into work this morning. It's about a two-hour commute on a good day. My stomach hurt. I haven't taken a proper crap in days. Post-chemo meds make me, and anyone who is lucky enough to take them, constipated in a way that I would wish on a few people only. Bill O'Reilly comes to mind. Maybe Nancy Grace. I could barely eat my oatmeal, which, frankly, is getting a little old, and I wished I had some frosted mini wheats.

I was already hungry for lunch by the time I got to work (not nearly lunchtime). My work-lunch buddy and I went to the Thai place across the street. We'd tried to go yesterday too, but the place's credit card machine was broken. Cash only. Neither of us had any. So, this was like a two-day-in-waiting deal. They got busy fast, right after we were seated. And, nearly an hour and a half later, my friend had gotten her lunch, but I still hadn't gotten mine. I had a meeting at 1:30. We asked for our check and my food a few times; the waiter who seated us – we never saw him again. The clock is ticking. It was 1:25 – no lunch for me.

The meeting with my boss was less than stellar. I won't go into details for fear of getting dooced. Oh, and it was supposed to be 30 minutes long, only it ended up being over an hour and a half. By this time, I was running late for my Dr.'s appointment for my CBC. I was dreading it for some reason. Plus, I ran out of Lorazepam yesterday, which I usually take before my blood test because I still get so freaked out by needles. You'd think I'd be over it by now. Not so. I think my phobia has actually worsened of late. Part of that may be because my awesome vein in my left arm is out of commission for now, and the one on the right arm isn't as cooperative. It hurts when they draw blood, and I'm over it.

When parking at the doctor's office, you get a ticket when you pull in, and give it to the lot attendant on the way out. I was only there for about 15 minutes, which should have cost $1. Only I lost the fucking ticket. I looked everywhere for it. Where did it go? I had to pay for a full day of parking when I left. Lost-ticket price: $10.

On the way home, there was an accident on I-66. Right lane completely blocked. Traffic at a standstill. Oh yeah, and, on the way to the doc, I had drunk an enormous bottle of water, like, maybe a gallon, seriously. If I'm not hydrated enough, veins disappear, and more hurting. So, tons of water, and now I'm stuck in traffic and really, really have to pee. Finally, out of desperation, and I can't believe I'm writing this, but whatever, I grabbed my thermos, dumped out its contents, took my coat off to cover up my lap and what I was about to do, pulled my pants down and strategically, or so I thought, peed into it, while driving, on 66, in rush hour traffic. I emptied the first batch. And, again. This time, I miscalculated. Ok, now read this carefully: I dumped warm pee all over my car seat, and a little on me. I tried not to move too much, not to sit down. I moved my coat that was on my lap covering up the goods under my butt to soak up the huge amount of urine on my car seat. Is my car going to stink from now on? My coat needs to go to the dry cleaners. I feel bad even taking it to the cleaners. That means someone, an unknowing stranger, will have to touch it. This is absolutely terrible. All I could think of was thank God there is a brand-spankin' new prescription of Lorazepam waiting for me at Walgreen's.

At the drug store drive through at last. What a great invention. Convenient, legal, drive-up drugs. I happily declare my name, why I'm here, and that my doc called it in this morning. Tick tock, tick tock. Any minute now. Money, ID in hand. This is so exciting. But, my day takes a turn for the worse. The pharmacist informs me that they have nothing. No one has called in anything. She checked Walgreens everywhere, and there is nada, anywhere. I'm not really surprised by this, considering the turn of events up until now.

When I have a piss poor day like this one, at least I know it could be worse, like I could have a tumor in my boob or something crazy like that, but I don't, and I'm alive, so what's a little pee on my leg?

Love Potion No. 9

It's Complicated, But Read It Anyway

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