This is a full fledge Pity Party...

I know what you're going to say, my cancer is under control and all I need to do is endure the next couple months of chemo and its side effects. Don't tell me this....I know! I'm one of the lucky ones because this is going to be cured and eventually become just a faded nightmare but in the meantime...right now, right this second I'm going to belly ache like a ten year old!!!!
Oh crap, I feel like shit! There....sorry, told you I wasn't going to hold back much. Whatever this new shot is doing it's making me twice as sick....pull your hair back, I'm puking in the commode sick....Oh wait....there is no hair to pull back! I take off my glasses and look in the mirror and I see my father! I have my father's forehead and his eyes and I can even duplicate his jesters to a tee: the way we rolled his eyes or shifted indecision under his eye socket by the corners of his mouth. Normally I wouldn't be upset by this, but the man is dead and since I'm not, well that revelation bothers me.

I can't figure out what to eat. My brain wants to set on something, anything that would sound good, feel good but everything seems gross. I liked scrambled eggs but I put a tad too much pepper on them and now anything with pepper grosses me out. I think I want baked potatoes with butter but I can't be sure. I try bites of food and awwwww...it's just disgusting. Food is not my friend. But I know I got to eat.

I'm glad to be off work but hate that my job is apparently running smoothly without me at the helm. I hear of no issues, no concerns. Apparently being "disabled" means you're dead.

I think I'm done. Maybe.