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Sunday is a day to wake late. Waking late means that the pain gets a head start on me. When I can feel the cancer, it makes me think about things I don’t want to think about. Like who gets my stuff if I don’t make it. Like I should start writing letters to the kids to be read at certain times in their lives. Kelli’s 21st birthday, her wedding day, the birth of her first child. Or the day Brandi and Jaymi get their period or goes to their prom. The day Robbie gets his drivers license and takes the car out alone for the first time. Or the day Dan finds someone new to make him happy. OH Lord, I don’t want to think of any of that. But the pain reminds me that living through this is not a guarantee. I have to start setting the alarm on Saturday night.

The day got better after I got out of my PJ’s and took a walk around the park. It was a beautiful day. It’s funny how your perceptions change after you clean yourself up and put on some makeup. Haha. We all lazed around the day until around 3:00 when Dan took the kids and the dirty clothes to the laundro-mat. Without ME! I went shopping without the kids! Here in this small beach town you can’t just go to one store and buy all your groceries. You have to go here to get that and there to get this. By the time I got home and made dinner it was 8:00. Late one sorry. When the day starts at ten it ends at ten too!

The tourists are out in droves and no one thought to tell them to be nice on their vacation. After the fourth or fifth time I got cut off or zoomed pass I wanted to yell out the window, “Hey, stop that! Don’t you know I have cancer in my BUTT CHEEK?!”

How the heck did I get cancer in my butt cheek anyway? I mean there is all kinds of cancer. Do you know anyone who has “Butt Cheek Cancer“? How “asinine!” Oh my, I just remembered something. My Dad used to tell me not to be so asinine! Maybe Dad knew what he was talking about after all. Sorry Dad, I should have listened.

Butt Cheek Cancer.

Maybe tomorrow I will get a better name for it.

Rhabdomyosarcoma sounds better. So what if it is mainly a childhood cancer. At least it will have a name. (A “childish ass”. I have been called that too, come to think of it.) Fitting.

Tomorrow, I’m going to ask for a name.