Woke up in a chipper mood and with a chippy throat.
Which will win out? That will be the story of the day.
Had a blast going to the the Vancouver Giants-Chilliwack Bruins' game in Chilliwack yesterday with Marc Weber. The Bruins showed some swagger and coasted to a 5-1 victory. (I think it was 5-1. I have CANCER...I don't have to get scores right now.)
I sat in the stands, like regular folk. (Yes, I said regular folk. Again, I can do that.) I was a little freaked to be moving around in a big group. I felt OK on the cane, but I was worried about some yahoo taking me out.
By the end of the game, I was pretty drained though. I meandered to the bathroom, and I was in the stall and started to feel woozy. I thought, "Sure enough, if I'm going to take a tumble it's going to be with my pants around my ankles. That would be so me." I got it back together and carefully got downstairs via the elevator and leaned against a wall until Marc got finished.
When we got home, I told Marc we needed to put away the cane and bring back the walker to get into the house. Yes, I put the bravado away. I was that tired.
Unfortunately for him, I had invited Carol-Ann's cousin, Lucas Froese, over to visit then, because he then got stuck with Steve Lite, which is a third-less jokes than your regular Steve.
Lucas is a good kid, a fourth-year UBC student. He comes from good stock, as far as I can tell. I'm sure he understood. I'll get him back for some shenanigans. I promise.
And, again, we're a work in progress here at Cancer House. (I do answer the phone that way if I'm certain the people on the other end won't be too freaked out.) The radiation malaise is coming and we need to account for that with our visitors and planning. Next week, I'm setting aside at least two days that it'll be just Carol-Ann and I.
Still, I feel like I have pretty good energy right now. I woke up singing one of my made-up songs, "Pass the Cancer (On the Right Hand Side)" which, of course, is a take-off on the usually forgettable 1982 hit "Pass the Dutchie" by Musical Youth.
Yes, I know that song was about smoking pot, which is something I've never done before and, frankly, I'm violently opposed to. I don't drink (never have actually...can't say that I never will, but I'd wager heavy against it if I was you...) but I have this odd, odd penchant for drinking songs. (When I'm on my game, I belt out a mean, "One bourbon, one scotch, one beer," based on the George Thorogood version.)
As for my throat, I had some yogurt for breakfast. I had a hot dog at the hockey game yesterday, and it didn't work so well. I had a couple of smoothies, and I snuck three or four chocolate cookies. (In interest of full disclosure, of course.)
Carla McAloney, a softball buddy, is picking my up for a 1 p.m. radiation (it's No. 9 of 25 for those scoring at home) and we'll have lunch somewhere. Likely Earl's. (SHAMELESS PLUG FOR MY WIFE'S EMPLOYER.) We'll see what their soup is.
Tonight, we've got some people coming over. I'm not sure how long they're staying, but I bet I can run them off with a little Pass the Cancer.
PS We must leave on a good note today. I can be a bit of an emotional guy. (In interest of full disclosure, of course.) Arnold Sison, who I've been tight with since junior high, loves to bust me on that. He was supposed to come over to watch the Olympic Opening Ceremonies at our house. He was late, texted to say that he didn't want to see me sobbing and sure enough, I was misty right then. Carol-Ann still has a field day with that. Sure enough, I make a mention in the Province about crying more these past few weeks than the rest of my life and I get this email from Arn: "About more crying in the last while than the rest of your life combined; does this account for the opening ceremonies in February, every sad movie you ever watched...etc? That would be a lot of crying."