Cranston

I have to admit, I've been avoiding Young because every time I see her she says "cancer all gone yet?" "No, cancer not all gone." "{insert shocked sound} what? why not? why cancer not all gone?" And that's as far as I can go with that.

Today Young is on the Chinese herb bandwagon and while I believe in Eastern medicine, now's not the time for me to go there. How would I know which herbs can be mixed with which chemo drugs and there's already too much toxicity in my life. I wish I knew more about Chinese herbs, what I do know is that they can be expensive and they taste god awful {way the hell worse than a green smoothie}. How does one tell a brilliant Chinese herbalist from a snake oil salesman? I'm gonna go with chemo and organic green food. My brother, who is coming in from Denver tonight, owns several coffee bars so there's a wholesale, industrial Vitamix blender en route to me at this very minute.

I came home from physical therapy and Young was microwaving sweet potatoes, you never know what Young will be doing but it's usually something other than cleaning.

So it seems there will be a lot of PT and home exercises. Stretching this way and that, slowly, carefully to hopefully regain full range of motion. I'm bad at establishing new routines and right now I'm adrift due to no routine, so I think I'll do the exercises before I get in the shower and when J is doing his homework, then he can remind me and feel like he's helping me. The therapist said I'm in pretty good shape for two weeks out from surgery. I guess the issue is scar tissue impeding muscle movement and also nerve damage and it's all completely expected and normal. They also take this Lymphedema thing pretty darned seriously, I have to go to Cranston and buy a compression sleeve for my arm which I can wear all the time or just when I'm on an airplane... I opt for just on the plane. Cranston is also where you get prothetic bras. Oh Cranston, you are such a special place.

Years ago when G had hordes of friends sleep over more weekends than not, they inevitably watched Lord of the Rings and one time one of the boys asked "where's Legolas?" and someone else said, in thick, fake, Rhody accent "he's in Craaaaaanston." It was one of those perfect, spontaneous, hysterical moments and for ages, out of the blue I'd ask Griffin "where's Legolas?" "He's in Cranston." Now I'd be happy to go off in search of my compression sleeve if Legolas was there to greet me! Sadly, when I try this now, the large one says "mom, that is so old, it's not funny, please stop." But I still think it's funny because kids grow up and move on and parents live in the past where things are still funny.