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Monday, October 22, 2012

Whisker Therapy

After chemo this week, I decided to take part in an experimental new treatment: Whisker Therapy. The goal is to make you say "Squee!" so hard that any and all cancer cells commit cellular suicide.

Butseriouslyfolks...this weekend I went with my family to Meet the Breeds at the Javits Center.

And oh, I met some fuckin' breeds.

Here I am with a Newfoundland boy who was given up by his owner to a Newf rescue. Luckily he has found a very nice forever home, but I did consider tucking him into my purse and sneaking out. It would have worked.

AHHHHHHHH! The squeezability.

It was a great day. There's just something about the way animals look at you that makes you feel okay. They don't see you as your gender or race, your clothes, or any of the other things we humans take note of. They just see a friend, or in the case of certain cats (cough cough Lydia) someone to disdain...but to disdain equally to all others. Animals don't see you as a sick or a healthy person. Or maybe they do, but they don't let you know it. For the first time since I lost my hair, and really, since my diagnosis, I forgot that I have cancer.

The bond I have with my pets has been instrumental for me getting through this cancer nonsense. I mean, just look at this pair of bread loaves:

Total professionals.
This experience made me look into again getting Pancho to be a certified therapy dog. He just doesn't have the temperament, unfortunately. He's a little too nervous. He gets that from me.

Chemo number: 5/12
Number of needle sticks: 2
Neutrophil count: 1.9

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