you betta work

i've been briefed about what to expect from the radiation treatments, scheduled to begin next week.

it seems pretty straightforward, though it's the potential cumulative effect of radiation fatigue i'm concerned about.

but maybe the fatigue won't happen.

fingers crossed.

i've been given the literature.  along with the lectures.

 soon enough i'll be heading into the radiation ring.

 a prizefighter i am not.

the old school tacky flashy satin colored robe wearing atlantic city type boxers have certainly come to mind though.

their coaches and bookies following them, arms extended, fist pumping the air as they cruise through the crowds, entering the corner of the ring.

they fight to win.

i am curious about the bookmaking, the fanfare, that whole low down razzle dazzle.

but the fight itself, what's the point?

i'm no fighter.

i'd rather hire rupaul.

this isn't a battle as i see it, a so called cancer fight. 

but there are times when support is a welcome thing.

i think rupaul would make a fabulous, diva-esque cancer coach.

 oh honey.

i believe he might understand a sister going down, he just wouldn't tolerate a sister staying down.

he'd position those long manicured fingers on his slender hips, extend his waxed leg through the requisite slit in his sequined gown, point his stilettoed toe, and say, through glossy lips and blinding white teeth, oh no honey.

you betta work.

what choice would a girl have?

i can hear those finger snaps now.

work it girl.  he'd so go there.

xx katy