You may be wondering how Husband was able to drag me to my first chemo appointment yesterday. Because it’s hard to psyche yourself up for a good poisoning. It’s the polar opposite of the Eat Local Challenge. Well, except for the local part. And the challenge. Perhaps I’ll rename it the Eat Local Poison Challenge. Tasty, tasty poisons. Naturally, Husband had his work cut out for him, so he pulled out the big guns:
Him: Put on something nice. I’m taking you out to dinner.
Me: Shut up, you are not.
Him: Yes, I am. Now hurry up and get ready. Our reservation’s in less than an hour.
Me: But it’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon.
Him: The chef makes his own hours.
Me: Really? Is it like an underground supper club or something?
Him: …Yes. Yes it is.
Me: Oooooooo. But there’s booze, right? No BYO?
Him: He definitely mentioned something about special cocktails.
Me: Weeeeeeeeeeee. Really? Crap, what am I going to wear.
Him: Find something fast. You have five minutes.
After 20 minutes of yelling and swearing at the contents of my closet, I’m looking stupid in the stupid outfit I picked out and we’re finally in the car heading towards the city.
Me: So what kind of food is it? Are we talking French or Indian or something with weird foams and shit?
Him: Interesting you should ask. He’s doing this innovative thing where you inject the food directly into your bloodstream. Ruth Reichl was raving about it on NPR.
Me: Ruth Reichl? Are you sure?
Him: Yeah, she said it’s all the rage in certain New York circles.
Me: What circles? Junky circles? Where’s the fun in that? How do you taste anything?
Him: She said that instead of the flavors expressing themselves on your taste buds, you feel the sensations…other places.
Me: Other places? Like where? Like (leaning in, whispering) down there?
Him: Maybe there. Wherever. The chef personalizes the meal for each diner so everyone gets a unique experience.
Me: (fanning myself)
We get off the Pike at the Pru and I assume we’re going to the South End, but then he keeps missing all the turns, I’m noticing. Probably because he’s so used to driving me all the way to Longwood for my goddamned appointments. Wait a minute.
Me: Where are we going again?
Him: I said it’s a surprise.
And that’s when we pulled up to the Dana-Farber building and Husband was exposed as the traitorous traitor he really is. Needless to say, I didn’t get the chemorgasm I was promised. (I faked it so the chef wouldn't feel bad, though.) Next time, I’ll wear a better outfit.
Sorry you missed out on the chemorgasm... but at least you're at the cutting edge of dining fashion, and that's what matters, right?
By the way, you are amazing. Keep your pecker up, and maybe you'll start feeling it *down there* some time soon...
Posted by: Charlie | July 22, 2009 at 11:26 AM
Chemorgasm. You deserve a meal for coming up with that. Maybe if they promised a free orgasm with every treatment.... naw.
Posted by: aimee | July 22, 2009 at 02:38 PM
Dear Tammy-
You always make me smile. Thank you for that. I'm wishing all the best for you.
Posted by: Allison L. | July 22, 2009 at 04:08 PM
Hang in, my friend.
Posted by: Susanna | July 22, 2009 at 08:21 PM
Oh, Tammy. Here you are... the one with cancer. And yet you're keeping everyone else laughing. Incredible. If I ever get seriously ill, I want you to come live with me.
When Harry Met Sally - nice touch. One of my favs.
Posted by: Amy | July 22, 2009 at 08:29 PM
Already looking forward to next time, are we? Must have been... OK!
Yay.
Posted by: cookiecrumb | July 22, 2009 at 09:10 PM
How will he trick you next time? Will it involve a blindfold?
Posted by: Mary | July 22, 2009 at 11:06 PM
If he tells you you're going out for ice cream, run in the other direction.
Posted by: Jess | July 23, 2009 at 02:10 PM
hehehe you two are one of a kind. Keep on smiling kids. big hug
Posted by: Free | July 24, 2009 at 09:59 AM
This left me snickering. The patrons of the cafe I'm in are giving me funny looks.
Good work. :)
(Btw, if the treatment leaves you with any sort of funny metallic taste in your mouth, ginger tea might help. At least that's what my father did.)
Posted by: adele | July 26, 2009 at 05:02 AM
I hadn't visited you in a long time, so i didn't know of your diagnosis. I had three and 1/2 weeks of iron infusion treatments last month in a chemo ward and my guess is you were overdressed for the affair. Laughter is a great cure.
Posted by: maybelles mom | July 26, 2009 at 08:20 PM
F TIBJ AIK LPJ EIFHS UJYY; UJ'E LYY YFRJ MI TJLP XPIW AIK .
Posted by: cookiecrumb | July 26, 2009 at 09:22 PM
CC: MTLHRV XIP MTJ HKESJ; FM'V OJJH L TLPE UJJR! Still standing.
maybelles mom: Next time, I'm wearing my prom dress!
adele: Good idea. There is a weird taste thing going on. In the absence of tea, I'm trying flat ginger ale.
Free: Thanks, Free!
Jess: Or, grab the ice cream first and then run in the other direction.
Mary: Unfortunately, I'm very easy to trick.
CC: (dry heaves)
Amy: I actually have a terrible bedside manner, but I'm learning to be better. Stay healthy.
Susanna: I'm hanging. Love the books you sent.
Allison: Thanks, Allison!
aimee: Now that I've had a week to reflect, I wish I could convey just how wrong it is to merge the words chemo and orgasm together. They are in two opposing dimensions that shall never intersect. I regret the error.
Charlie: You have a way with words! (wink)
Posted by: Tammy | July 27, 2009 at 10:27 AM
I almost peed my pants reading this post! Keep it up with that laughter and spirit, and that cancer doesn't have a fucking chance! I just shared this post with a friend going through chemo. Thanks for sharing your indomitable essence for life.
Posted by: Lorrie@ReadNEat | August 05, 2009 at 03:29 PM