As an adult, I can count on both hands the number of times I’ve been complimented on my appearance. So maybe I'm a bit more masculine looking than truly handsome. Case in point, I have yet to be ‘hot peppered’ on Ratemyprofessor. And on those occasions when I do shave, daughter #2 tells me I look like a turtle. Thanks sweetie pie. Not that a well-grounded guy like myself needs such validation from outside sources. I'm content in my own skin; I’m just sayin’.
All this, however, changed in June after I received my illustrious cancer diagnosis. Now, I can’t go anywhere without someone saying, “You look good.” And I’m all like, man, I wish I was single. I mean church members, family, friends, and people at work are constantly telling me, “You look good.” The next time one of those model-talent agencies comes to the local mall to
stalk recruit teen girls, I’m going. I could use a second
career and who knows, maybe I'll make the cover of some magazine or appear in a
bundle of stock photos companies buy for advertising.
I’m also seeing a new beauty line product. Forget botox. You want to look good? Go get yourself some cancer, and in no time at all you’ll be having compliments out the wazoo, wherever that is. I always wondered where the wazoo is… Whatever it is, I’m confident mine is good looking because, like I said, cancer makes you good looking.
I know it's a kindness when people say, "You look good." I think it's a combination of people wanting to encourage and not really knowing what else to say. I appreciate it. It's better than people saying, "Your skin looks like ash today. Did you just have chemotherapy?" It is what it is and, again, kindness is always appreciated.
Anyways – treatment four was about the same as the other three, except the day after. I had to drag myself through the day, and only barely. Mostly, I made the recliner stay still, though I managed to complain quite a bit. I find complaining helps when you don’t have the energy to do anything else. Still, no nausea, no squirts, no mouth sores - just extreme fatigue, a queasy stomach, and fried tasted buds that return after four days.
For the first three treatments I told myself, "This isn't that bad," and, "You'll get used to it". Now, I'm not so certain. It is about that bad, and only a unique constitution could get used to it. It would be like getting used to the flu combined with a really rough whiskey hangover. Yes, I remember those really rough hangovers of my misspent youth and, yes, I remember having the flu.