Rancid Ham

Yesterday was a bad day. I was in a dark place emotionally, and I had a hard time finding my way out. I was despondent and couldn’t seem to shake it. I’m sure I can attribute a good portion of my mood to the steroids. But it seems to get worse each go-round, and I need to find a way to better manage the down days. Robbie deserves a medal for his finesse in handling my meltdown.

I wrote a blog last night that never got posted. It was a list of about fifteen things that I hate about cancer. It was therapeutic to write, but served no other purpose than a personal whining session. I do have to share item nine though – because today it makes me laugh. It read: “Call me a Trooper. Go ahead.” I’m all for a positive attitude, but once in a while even I can get a bit negative.

Let’s talk about something more “cheerful” – today’s side effect du jour. I went to work today and I was lucky enough to score an extra lunch from a work meeting which was awesome because all I had with me was a pack of pop tarts. I opened the box lunch to find a nice fresh ham sandwich. It didn’t smell great to me, but it looked yummy. I took a nice big bite, and after about three chews I had to spit it into a napkin. The ham tasted rancid. The sandwich was fine, but my ability to taste was not. I took a big swig of a diet soda to get rid of the ham flavor, and the soda tasted like a tin can. The box lunch also had a cookie. Except the cookie tasted like refrigerator odors. At least there was a bag of salty potato chips. The only flavor that always stays true. Salt.

The taste buds will come back in a day or two. In the meantime, there is cereal and wonderful homemade chocolate chip cookies that Robbie made me. Bizarrely, the homemade cookies don’t have the funky refrigerator taste. They just taste like butter. And I can’t really complain about that.