The only thing this Friday the 13th was missing was Freddy Krueger. Apparently fate believed cancer was not enough of a challenge this year so on Friday the 13th, fate saw fit to allow me to crash my car. I rear-ended a minivan half a mile from home. I don’t remember anything about it except slamming on my breaks and the impact and freaking the fuck out. Everyone says “well at least nobody was hurt, that’s all that matters.” Who are they kidding? That doesn’t stop anyone from freaking out. It’s traumatic and scary and depressing. With the exception of bruises on my arm, stomach and knee, I am fine but I feel as though this was some cosmic reminder that my life is precarious, like some promissory note from hell that can be called due at a moment’s notice. And like the fates are warning me not to get all cocky now that chemo/radiation is over. I guess I’m lucky because somehow my airbag didn’t deploy so I could have been hurt worse, and thank God my daughter wasn’t in the car. She doesn’t know it yet but I’ve decided she can get her driver’s license when she’s 25.
Shifting gears to my health (see what I did there?), I’m mostly getting stamina back and the radiation burns are healing but I wish my hair would grow faster. Maybe I need some Rogaine (holy shit I did NOT just say Rogaine.) Is there a Hair Club for women? And before you say Biotin I need to find some without soybean oil. I’m boobless, kind of hairless, and now carless. #effcancer #nocar