My nieces use that word to describe very beautiful things, like pashminas and jewelery and fancy dresses. I love it.
This morning my oncologist used it to praise my blood counts. "Your labs are GORGEOUS!" he said, all in caps, with an explanation point. Higher than he even predicted. This little body is a fighter! Hooray!
He did say that I have 60-year-old bones, due to all the steroids and chemo that has pumped through my body. I'm to begin exercising. A lot. And drink a lot of milk. HOORAY! Who wants to go running tomorrow with a baldy with neuropathy in her feet? I may be slow but I'll be out there! (unless it is entirely too hot and humid. Sorry to disappoint.)
The plan is to start my maintenance phase in a week and a half. One IV-shot a month, with a blood draw, and then just pills! And my PICC line (affectionately known as Little Miss PICC-y) will come out after that first day! I only need to see my oncologist every three months! I told him I would miss him. But not too much.
On other fronts, as I drove to the hospital this morning I passed a man in his car with a parrot on his shoulder. Alas, no photo. I took a picture in my heart, though.
On another front, I just lit a match and it broke in half, the flaming end falling onto my skirt, before falling to the ground and burning out. Yes, it burned a hole through my skirt. The nerve! Who does that?!?