still a good patient

i love my oncologist. after exchanging pleasantries, she said, "ok. complain."


really? and i'll still be a good patient? this was great. i listed all my ailments, everything that made me feel like i was one hundred and five. so she listened and decided to discontinue the shot that put my bones into overdive making white cells but made them feel like they were broken--for as long as i can keep from getting sick.


this is where a little OCD could be helpful... i'm thinking i should only meet with kids outside on the black top, where i've drawn a five foot magic circle out of chalk to protect me. but i would miss the silly crowdedness of hanging out in the hall with everyone smushed together, hearing all the greetings and the gossip...