1. Next week I am walking the runway in the Well Dressed For Spring Fashion Show, supporting Wellspring. All the models have some sort of connection to cancer, and most are media personalities or executives. I am neither of those, but apparently I still made the cut.
Today I got to go to Holt Renfrew (our high-end fancy-shmancy department store, for my non-Canadian friends) and meet with my stylist, Christopher. YES, I HAVE A STYLIST. Christopher pulled several different outfits for me to try on, which was pretty much a dream. I wear $9 jeans most days, so this was a tad different from what I’m used to. I was a bit nervous going in, worrying that nothing would fit me properly. In fact, last week, when trying on a bunch of dresses from my closet, I had a bit of a breakdown when I learned that none of them fits me anymore, due to my new implants that don’t really move or squish in the way natural breasts do/should. So I now have a bunch of nice dresses I can never wear again, which is a bit sad.
I was worried something similar might happen at my fitting today, but it did not. Luckily, Christopher picked stuff that I was comfortable in and that wasn’t a far stretch from what I would wear in my daily life. The complete outfit costs more than my entire wardrobe at home (which really doesn’t say much… I am pretty cheap). And I even get to wear Prada shoes, which hopefully, I will be able to walk in without having a Carrie Bradshaw fashion roadkill incident. The whole thing was really fun and made me wish I were a rich celebrity with a personal stylist and a giant closet full of fancy things picked just for me. Sigh. But it will be fun to pretend and play dress-up, if only for a day.
2. Next week I’m getting my port removed. Remember my port? I have had this thing implanted in my body for a very long time. I don’t ever look at it or think about it. It’s just there, and I’ve gotten quite used to it. But now that I’m done with the whole drug pumping bit, I no longer have use for it, so it’s time to yank ‘er out.
The port removal is very symbolic to me, because it truly marks the end of that phase of my life. However, I can’t help but worry that taking it out will somehow jinx my health, and the cancer will come back, and I’ll need chemo again, and they’ll have to put the goddamn port right back in. I realize that type of thinking is illogical, but the thought has crossed my mind. Nonetheless, it’s time to come out, and that’s a good thing. More cutting, more stitches, more scarring. Just another day.
3. Last, but not really least… I have given notice at work that I will be leaving my job. So, I am looking for a new job. And as much as I really wish I could skip the whole job search/application process and just send an email saying, “I had cancer and have been through a ton of shit and have quite a bit more life experience than can ever be summed up on a resume and I deserve a friggin’ break, and I am pretty much awesome at everything so just hire me and let’s be done with it,” I can’t really do that because I would come off as completely insane and slightly hostile. So I’m on the hunt, looking for the next thing in my life, and excited for the future… and hoping it doesn’t take forever to get here.
(P.S. Anyone out there hiring and in need of a brilliant, hard-working, all-around fabulous employee? Remember, I had cancer, therefore you should probably try to help me out. It’s kind of your duty as a fellow, compassionate human being.)
(And yes, I have no shame playing the cancer card. I totally earned that card and will do with it what I please.)
(But seriously, if you want to hire me, get in touch. Besides the whole cancer-killing superhero thing, I’m fairly awesome at doing many other things.)