Procrustean

This is my word of the day today.
Definition: marked by arbitrary often ruthless disregard of individual differences or special circumstances.
Use in a sentence: My veins will be forever grateful that Dr. Cavalcant does not have a procrustean treatment regimen for all of his patients.

OK, so it's a stretch, but I thought it was a fun word and felt compelled to use it in a sentence. Yes, I should be working. No, this is not part of my job description.

In any case, it is amazing to me what qualifies as "good news" these days, and as I drove back from a somewhat tedious errand during lunch today, I started thinking of the things that fell into this category over the past couple of days.

1. Hairs. Hairs growing in places that I am certain to remove them from once there are enough to matter. Seriously. Who gets excited about armpit (or other) hairs? People pay good money to have these offending hairs removed. Me? I can't wait to tell people. Rationale? Armpit (and other) hair growing certainly means that head hair is growing. Two weeks until a crew cut, I tell you.

2. A non-procrustean doctor. One who tells me that there are decisions to make once the cancer is at this stage, and recommends (not just gives the options of, but RECOMMENDS) Herceptin alone. Yes, I had already decided on this, but something about him recommending it is reassuring to me. Additionally, he saw no proven benefit to taking it weekly as opposed to every three weeks, so everyt three weeks it shall be. This thrills me, this thrills my veins, this thrills the people at Sonora Quest, and I'm certain this thrills the chemo nurses who only have to jab at me once every three weeks. This will give those veins a chance to rest for three weeks and most likely, at least for the time being, allow me to avoid the ever-dreaded PORT.

3. Lack of intimacy issues. No further explanation necessary.

4. I think I found my butt. At least temporarily. You see, with all these ridiculous body changes I have gone through over the past few months, somehow along the line I seemed to misplace my previously pretty cute butt. Even when I put on the gazillion pounds of water weight. Ridiculous, I tell you. It looked simply ridiculous. Then I lost the weight I put on, but strangely enough, even though I was back to pre-cancer "fighting weight", all my jeans fit differently. I suppose I could blame it on the missing butt, but whatever the case, it was a bit unnerving. Today I broke down and bought a new pair of jeans. Yes, I paid too much. Who cares. I think I found my butt, at least while wearing these jeans. My luck? I'll take them home and try them on and not be able to close them.

5. NY Giants fans. Well, two of them, at least. My uncle and cousin have taken out a 2nd mortgage on the house and will be coming out here this weekend. I'm really, really looking forward to seeing them. Eyelashless and all. The rest of the Giants fans? Meh. Whatever. Only 26 days until pitchers and catchers report....

With that, I see that I only have 1/2 hour left until I blow this popsicle stand. (What a ridiculous expression. I'm only leaving it there because of the ridiculous factor at this point)

3 comments:

    YEAH!!!! for Herceptin every three weeks!

    This is truly a wonderful thing!!!

    (and I too am rooting for the Giants because I can not stand the Patriots, so GO MANNING!!!!!!!)

    hurray for armpit hair!!!

    (and herceptin every three weeks - rock on!)

    I'm thinking about growing my armpit hair to wrap around my neck to keep me warm. Ok, so not really, but it would be a lot easier than hunting down a scarf every morning.