Brenda 'Stewart' came again today. Her first order of business was to clean the house, reorganize a bedroom, and clean out a drawer. My house is becoming in top shape. However, I am not in top shape – YET. I finished off my devotions, and generally roamed around the house in my housecoat until 1 pm, doing random things and accomplishing basically nothing. I did organize my paper crafts, however, while Mom and Brenda Stewart crafted more valentine cards. After my shower, I looked in the mirror, and exclaimed, "I look like an Egyptian!" My head is so bald now. Remember that the Egyptian women in 1500 B.C. removed every hair from their heads with special gold tweezers and polished their scalps to a high sheen with buffing cloths? A shaved head was considered the ultimate in feminine beauty. I haven't found gold tweezers yet, but SJ C. sent me shoe polishing cloths I could use to buff my head. Should I use Pledge, I wonder?

I had a quick bounce episode on my mini-trampoline (bouncing the cells is good for the lymph system), scarfed down a tuna melt, and off Brenda and I went to explore the world. A trip to Walmart was an adventure to find a four cup coffee maker and distilled water for my fancy iron. Then to the medical clinic for a check-up with Dr. Bryden, my surgeon. We jumped onto a loaded elevator, but I forgot where Dr. B's office was (it's not like I haven't been there enough), so I asked no one in particular if they knew where she held office: "I wonder where we're going." A little Irish man piped up in a very Irish accent: "I'll tell you where you're goin' – straight up to heaven." I laughed and said, "You're right, I am." He continued, "You don't want to be goin' down the other way (to the basement); it's cold down there." I knew everyone knew I was a cancer patient because of my head gear. Not many people wear fancy cotton hats in the middle of winter with ties hanging in the back. The door opened and we got off on the third floor. My guess wasn't correct, so we ascended the stairway to 'heaven,' Dr. B's office, laughing all the way. I told Brenda, "I think he was an angel; you never know." Brenda thought he was an Irish man. It was such a random event, anyway, and the elevator people enjoyed the little man and his preaching.

Once in Dr. B's office, we were told to take a seat. In the waiting room, another woman and her young daughter were sitting. I smiled at them. She said, "You must be undergoing chemo." "Yes, I am," I replied. So, off we went on a conversation for about fifteen minutes about breast cancer, chemo, radiation, mastectomy, Tamoxifen, weight gain, steroids, etc. That would have been all fine and good, however, an older gentleman sat between us and got the crossfire of the conversation. He smiled from time to time as he had to endure this torture. He was called in to see Dr. B., and we continued our animated discussion. When he came out, he remarked to the receptionist (so we could hear him): "I told Dr. B. to make sure that the next time I come for my appointment that there be no breast patients in the waiting room." We all laughed. I told the receptionist to book me in with him the next time.

Doug arrived and he became the second man in between us as we compared notes. We were called in to the examining room and I prepared myself with the traditional Johnny shirt. How many times have I been in one of those lately! We had a few laughs before Dr. B. arrived, and when she entered the room, I was standing to full attention on a step stool, saluting her. This set off quite a lively examination with lots of laughs and kidding. I always seem to have an entourage when I see her. Natalie and Doug or Doug and Brenda. It makes for good comic relief, anyway. I have to have an ultrasound again on my mastectomy site, to see what is going on there. It may have to have further treatment, a drain, or something. The ultrasound will tell her what direction to take. Dr. B. grew up on the street next to mine; we went to Park Street together. Have I told you that she is the greatest? God really gave me a great surgeon, and I am thankful.

We said see ya later to Doug; we had to go shopping. "Winners" here we come. I wanted to pick up a pair of trampoline work-out pants, but I got involved in the clearance aisle of tops. After spending half an hour trying on things, moaning and groaning about clothing getting stuck on my head and PICC line, I emerged with a few inexpensive items, and what I thought were my new work-out pants. Found some toys on clearance for the grandkids, and Brenda and I moved through the cattle line and out the store. On arriving home, found out that I did not buy the pants, which is what I went there for – handed them right back to the fitting room monitor. I bought some doozy coloured, patterned shirts, I'll tell you. D. wondered whether I'll like them next week. I thought of that while I was choosing them – because everything is so heightened right now – flavours (especially of fresh Florida oranges and crunchy dill pickles), colours, noise, everything is attracting my attention – the shape of trees, the texture of snow, paper. Have I mentioned that I like paper? (Brenda knows this, I've said it enough the past two days as we've been doing our paper crafts). And cutting paper – the way the scissors sound on the surface of the paper – yum… I always wanted to be Mr. Dress Up growing up. And now I guess I am. Mrs. Dress Up, making paper crafts in her kitchen and dressing up in wild clothes. It's funny how when death stares you in the face, you become so much bolder in your dress. And your head gear. Yesterday was the first day I went totally bald in public – started in the chemo unit at the hospital, then I remained hatless as we traveled over to the Rehab. What a feeling of freedom I had. And it didn't matter what people thought.

After Winners, we stormed the Regent Mall. A trip to Laura Secord so Brenda could get something for her boys, yielded a great harvest. We were greeted by the candy gal, offering us white chocolate covered raspberry treats. Brenda began to search while I pondered whether my favorite ice cream, French Crisp was on the schedule for today (it was supper time), and could I have ice cream before supper? Brenda mouthed, "Yes," and I told the manager, "I'll have my favorite ice cream, not that you know what that is." (And I really didn't think she would know; I wouldn't expect her to remember me!). "French Crisp," she quipped, smiling. "What?" How did she know? She gave me two scoops, and two chocolate covered orange peels as a gift free (don't tell anyone), plus another white chocolate treat. And a coupon for a trip to Jamaica. Perhaps I'll win. She told me of her sister who had breast cancer ten years ago and had a mastectomy as well. And that when she looks at her, she never thinks about her ever having had the disease or the surgery. I took off my hat and showed her my head. I'm getting so bold now. I asked her if I could have her autograph; that I would put it in my journal. She retrieved a business card and wrote her Johnina Henry on it. By this time, Brenda was melting into a French Crisp waffle cone with abandon, unbelief on her face as to how delectable it was. I asked her what her name was (I've been going there for years, but never knew). "Marg," she said. "Oh, I can remember that," and was about to tell her that my grandmother's name was Marguerite, when she blurted out, "My real name is Marguerite, but people call me Marg." Well, you can imagine our response. "Our grandmother's name was Marguerite!" Her co-worker then blurted out, "So was my grandmother!" Sort of like John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt or something (That's my name, too, and whenever I go out, the people always shout, "John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt, Tra-la-la-la-la-la-la-la). You had to be there. Well, we said good-bye and I turned around the ran into a giant ice-cream cone statute. Manager Marguerite: "Did that hit you in the eye?" "No, I'm OK!" Just clumsy. She was probably relieved; no lawsuit.

Brenda and I sat in the mall on a bench and savoured our ice cream. She thought she saw someone she knew, but she couldn't see them. She doesn't carry her glasses with her for some reason. By this time, it was 6 pm and we thought it rather late to cook, so decided Wendy's was in order. Doug was happy. When we got home, J. was there with a wonderful large card chock full of encouraging notes from the GreenHill Lake Ladies Retreat participants. I never knew I was so loved. I will cherish this forever. I always keep everything everyone sends me.

Brenda and I continued on with our paper crafts, until she finally had to go at 9 pm. We hugged and I thanked her for coming and making my week so enjoyable. She is a gift. I hope she can come back in March with the boys. Thank you, Brenda – you are a delight to me and to whoever crosses your path.

I must go now and eat some toast. It was a good day, and I am thankful. I'm learning to live in the moment. God is giving me wonderful moments, and I am amazed at the support I am receiving. I do not deserve it. I guess it's like God's love. We do not deserve, but we get it anyway. Good night, all.