Cancer could be so much worse

Atingle . There's a word you probably don't hear very often. I hardly ever use it (and I use a lot  of arcane and frankly pointless words), and even when I do it's always used sarcastically. Like: "Ooh! Another meeting? I'm all atingle." Yeah... I'm kind of a dick sometimes. I was before  I was diagnosed with cancer and spoiler alert: it doesn't look like the radiation got rid of that. But this time I'm not saying it to be a dick. This time I'm sincere. I really am  all atingle. But I'm going to keep you  all atingle as to the reason while I give a little more background info. Don't skip to the end; trust me, my observations will be worth it. What's PICCing you? Yeah... a stretch, I know.  PICC  stands for Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter. I only need to get eight courses of chemotherapy under my awkwardly-names GIRAJFFOX regimen and each course consists of a two-hour infusion of two drugs followed by a bolus (sometim

I dropped by my place of work yesterday. I had to get some bloodwork drawn before I start my next round of chemotherapy and it's better for my oncologists if I get it drawn at the hospital, so after waiting half an hour for a two minute draw I headed down to "the dungeon" to see my friends and co-workers. It was wonderful. Everyone was happy to see me, I got a bunch of well wishes and wonderful, therapeutic hugs, and I got to catch up on who had started and who had left in the two months since I was last in the department. For a few minutes at least, I felt like I was living my previous life - my life before cancer. Then the questions started. "How are you doing?" "When are you coming back?" "So... what happens next?" The people I work with are all amazing, caring people. Sure, some of them have some rough edges and occasionally they squabble like children, but that's only because they are human beings and therefore not perfec