Me and my Jagged Little Pills

I have never been a pill popper. I took the occasional Advil for yoga aches and menstrual cramps and rarely ever finished my prescribed antibiotics, and now, I am Doctor Quinn. (Jane Seymour is so smokin' and is that Billy Ray Cyrus?) The week after chemotherapy, they pump me with tons of anti-everything medications so that I don't throw up and my blood counts stay nice and high. I have a love/hate relationship with my friends, the pills, because while they do an AWESOME job with the nausea, they have tons of other side effects that make a girl feel like shit. For example, the high powered anti-nausea medicine I take after chemo gives me migraines and makes me tired. So even though I'm not throwing up, I can't see straight and it hurts to get a glass of water. The injection I give myself 24 hours after chemotherapy causes my bone marrow to produce an excessive amount of white and red blood cells, keeping the swine flu virus at bay, but makes my bones feel like I just ran the iron man marathon. I haven't run the aforementioned marathon, but the Gatorade commercials give me a pretty good idea. Sympathy is not the goal of this post. Honestly, I wanted to give everyone some information on how I'm feeling day to day, and the title was an awesome vehicle for the next part of my story...

I won a karaoke contest on Tuesday! Infamous Commonwealth Theatre held their annual "Infamous Idol" competition on Cinco De Mayo. I was slated to be the new judge Kara Dioguardi (She is so freakin' hilarious on the show. I have been conducting a character study for months, even taking copious notes. Where my dogs at? I've been reeling over the early dismissal of Alison Iraheta. I cannot stand Chris Allen.) Tuesday rolled around and the thought of "performing" was both daunting and stressful. I decided to go anyway and hang out with my friends and hubby, who was a dashing Ryan Seacrest, and...finally eat a burger. I arrived at The Spot, still shocked by my 1st support group meeting, and decided I needed to vent. I signed up to sing "You Oughta Know", by the original queen of teen angst, and after my encore, a wobbly rendition of "Like a Prayer", by Madonna, I won, bald head and all! Seth and I will be spending Father's Day weekend at a lovely cottage in Michigan... doesn't that sounds blissful?

For those of you who have known me since high school, I don't have to tell you the deep rooted meaning that song has in my heart. Alanis TOTALLY understood when my first boyfriend, we'll call him CC, dumped me for an older woman 2 weeks after Prom. (We dated for 2 years which disqualified me for pyscho ex-girlfriend status, by the way.) My therapy at the time was picking up the Jenny's and the Heather's, rolling down the windows of my emerald green dodge spirit, and blasting the hell out of that song while driving through the peaceful streets of CPIN. Therapy is therapy people, and sometimes, it don't cost a thing. (I'm usual the double negative ironically, natch.)