It finally happened again – we won a game! And we beat the third-ranked team, no less. Beat ’em like a rented mule, 8-3. I wound up +2 for the night and actually skated a little more like my old self through the first few shifts. Of course, that quickly caught up with me and I was dogging most of the rest of the game.
I also felt a little more of my old self by harassing their defensemen and goalie. The defenseman I always wound up against was at least a half foot taller than me and quite a few pounds. Big ol’ Grizzly Adams lumberjack lookin’ dude. He actually complained to the ref about me pushing him around in front of his own net. Turns out lumberjacks are pansies.
Three reasons why I haven’t answered your emails or posted anything lately:
1) My monitor is currently sitting in little pieces on my office floor. No, I didn’t have the final breakdown. My monitor’s been acting really wonky for awhile now, acting like it wants to pull a Yorick on me. Luckily, Barb found a site that explains how to take apart and repair your LCD monitor. I’ve finished the taking apart part, now I’m in the “waiting for the parts to arrive” stage.
2) Barb kidnapped me on Friday. It was my “Done with Chemo” surprise, one week early. I’ll tell you more, but it’s taking a looooong time to type it all up, especially since I have no monitor at home.
3) I have a mix CD to put together and get out by Friday for the MonkeyFilter CD Exchange.
So eventually life will calm down again and I can get back to writing occasionally. Whee.
Oh, and in case I don’t get to say anything before then, tomorrow is THE LAST TREATMENT. About time.
Well, one more hockey game is in the books. We played the number one team in our division, which meant an 8-2 loss for our team. Personally though, I wound up being +1 for the night. I would like my Selke trophy now, please.
I wound up missing the first ten or so minutes of the game due to traffic being a complete parking lot on 2 East. It took around an hour to make the 9.8 mile journey. I was a little stressed when I got there. I wound up arriving just as the warm-up ended and wound up wearing myself out trying to get all of my gear on quickly. Idiot. Then, of course, I go out on my first shift and give 180%, which means I give 80% on my next shift, 50% on the next and so on through the rest of the game. Oy. But I did what I could to keep the puck out of our net, including flattening one of their players before he could get a breakaway or pass the puck.
And I still haven’t gotten a penalty. I blame the cancer. We now have three more games left, one of which was rescheduled to the day after my chemo, so I have two left. And no, we’re not going to make the playoffs – one of the few certainties in life…
Speaking of which, next week is my LAST TREATMENT! A few more days of feeling like crap and I’m done! My little gift for myself? I’m designing myself a “Cancer is my bitch” bumpersticker to apply to my truck. I’ve found some places that will do short sticker runs for pretty good prices. Oh yeah!
If I didn’t respect Bill Watterson so much, I’d have them make a Calvin peeing on cancer, but I do and I live in the upper class north, you know. Meh.