CANCER: Slow and Steady Wins

So, yesterday I headed out to my all-time favorite grocery store, Trader Joe's. (What can I say? The cashiers are compassionate...) Confession time: I know this might sound really autistic of me, but I will confess that I have a "thang" for numbers. Prime numbers, looking for patterns, you name it....I'm your girl! That being said, I have come up with what I call the daily ratio. The daily ratio is a calculation that I use to determine my action to nap needs. So, right after chemo, I know my ratio is something like 15 minutes:2 hours. Meaning, for every 15 minutes of activity, I will need two hours of rest. I know...pathetic. But, it's life for me now.

Now yesterday, I figured my daily ratio was something along the lines of 30 minutes:90 minutes. In other words, I needed to pack a whole hell of a lot into my 30 minutes of activity- and I chose to spend it buying eggs, milk, butter- the necessary groceries my ex-husband, Warren "forgot" to pick up on Sunday....No, I am not at all bitter.....Did I mention just how much I HATE relying on people? Can't remember....

Ok, back to the grocery store- Now, I'm zipping (humor me) through the store, right? And I stumble upon this very, very old lady. She's standing right in front of the damn milk. She is moving SLOW as molasses. Bending to look at the milk took her about an hour. Her cart is inconveniently parked in front of the eggs. There's just no getting around this lady.... I kid you not; and my meter is RUNNING!

Now my normal pre-chemo chick would have rolled my eyes way the heck up into the back of my head. I would have tapped my toe. I would have, yes clicked my tongue. I am not proud. Really. But that was then. And this is now.....

Instead, I cleared room in the crowded aisle. I watched her inelegant movements and yes- I cheered her slow ass on. You GO girl! GO!  

And because I was on Capital Hill, I also got cruised by the strangest man with the bushiest eyebrows I have ever witnessed in my entire life. Seriously. And he too was a-kerjillion years old. I think they musta bussed in all the old people that day- or maybe their exes forgot the damn milk too?

Never mind all that. Here's the scoop- my new reality is now centered on pacing myself with area septagenarians. Who knows? I might even get a decent meal outta one of them....Maybe a young cancer-ridden chick is highly prized in their worlds?