I submitted Ziggy’s photo to a social media group for fat cats. It hasn’t been approved by the admins, so I’m not sure what this could mean. It’s possible a) he is not “chonky” enough, b) perhaps he’s too handsome, and they think maybe he’s a professional model c) my caption isn’t clever enough and doesn’t use enough umlauts and mention enough of the cutesy cat words, like “peets” or “himb” or “boi.”
Yesterday I was ghosted by a lampshade. Again. Since June of 2018, when my ex moved out, I needed some home decor items, but with my abbreviated timeline, buying new furniture seemed silly. I managed to find a floor lamp on the street, but it has a very specific lampshade that is stained. Last year, I tried to get a free lampshade that someone was giving away on NextDoor. After I rearranged my entire morning to be in Williamsburg, I went to her apartment and called. And called. And called. When I arrived at my train stop, I got a text back that she wasn’t looking at her phone. The first time I was ever ghosted was by a lampshade.
I tried again, and I planned to pick up a lampshade on Sunday in Kip’s Bay. I would be nearby at Rolf’s for the Christmas decor with friends in town. However, when I messaged Lamp Shade to confirm, it had been picked up already. “This is the second time I have been ghosted by a lampshade,” I noted.
Of course, I’m skipping over my big worry. Tomorrow is my debulking surgery. In an attempt to relieve some of my symptoms, a surgeon is going to try to remove some of the tumors. Three are in my liver, and two are in my bowel. They’re not completely sure if they can get to the bowel tumors. There’s also a pancreas tumor that is inoperable. I have some sort of mammary thing happening, but they don’t think it’s cancer.
It’s not a small surgery. They will reopen my Whipple scar and then cut further down my abdomen. It’s a 30-day recovery.
I’m not afraid of the surgery and the staples and the scars. I’m worried it won’t work. There’s a chance it might work and there’s a chance it might not. Regardless, it’s my last chance. The PRRT didn’t work. It’s doubtful the Keytruda worked.
I was originally planning to go to hospice later this week, and instead, I’m having surgery to try to stay just a little bit longer. My time’s running out. I’m always tired and in pain. I just want a little bit more time.
I took three oxycodone today. I keep falling asleep writing this. I need to get up very early for surgery. Goodnight. See you on the other side of this surgery.