Any day is a good day to go to an art museum, but autumn days have to be the BEST. There's just something about spending an hour soaking up the hues and strokes of the masters and then getting to walk back to your car through fallen leaves. Somehow it makes you feel more human. It's spa treatment for the soul.
Odd how my museum experience yesterday would be so starkly and unexpectedly juxtaposed this morning at my doctors appointment. In preparation for radiation next week, I laid on a table while two technicians marked me up with a sharpie, taped BB's on me and gave me a few tattoos. Yes, tattoos. For real. They were very kind and attentive technicians, but still...no matter how many warm blankets and pillows and "you're doing great"'s they give you, there's just very little room left to feel like a person in that situation. I've never felt more "unperson-like" in my life.
True, this may be the cumulative effect of ALL the cancer treatments I've had just finally getting to me. Bald and de-boobed is one thing. Being marked on..that just adds insult to injury.
I know what you're thinking. I lost you at "tattoo". You must know more! Ok...the tats are just "freckles" they use to make sure they're zapping me in the same place every time. I'm tattooed only in the technical sense of the word, but tattooed nonetheless.
Sorry about the tatts. You were always such a rebel!
ReplyDeleteHey, I didn't get a chance to tell you yesterday at church, but I liked your hair. You looked pretty!
ReplyDeleteAnd work those Tattoos!! There's nothing like a Relief Society Pres that knows how to live it up! haha
My sister refers to her tattoo as her "prison tat". So now that you're bald and are sporting prison tats, you might have some street cred if you ever decide to pursue that drug dealing career I know you've always secretly admired ;)
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