Hello everyone!

I continue to publish my diary and the story of my illness. My thoughts, feelings and actions. I really hope that these lines will help someone.

Part 2

just life

"... And Abraham died, and died in good old age, old and fullfilled of life, and was gathered to his people."
I would be so...

about traffic cops (remembered)

Cold December day. After the first course of "red", but still with hair, dressed completely out of the weather, I almost run to the car, shivering under the gusts of the icy wind and dreaming to get to the house as soon as possible. And - next to my dirty beauty is a car with an emergency lights, the driver of which managed to drive into the back of my parked car. As it turned out it happened on an almost empty road, the embarrassed man about 50 years old could not explain - HOW???(and these people criticize women at the wheel!). He honestly called the police and continually apologized until its arrival, until I stopped the process, hiding in the cabin of my car.

image source

The police arrived soon enough in the form of a pair of similar "well-fed" guys. A sort of "two from the casket, the same from the face." Warmly dressed big guys inspected our cars for a long time, lazily talked with a man on the topic "well, how did it happen". I was not allowed to sit in the car, so I jumped around, turning from slightly frozen to a completely frozen and gradually becoming a beast. The day was not a success...

And then there was the first and only time in my whole life, when I regretted that I was not bald.
Dialogue in the police car:
Well-fed guys: We'll, we can write out a reference here, or you'll go pick up
it yourself later?
Frozen me: Here will be better, of course.
Well-fed guys: Well, okay. Then, can you give us a little present?
Frozen me: Well you, gentlemen officers. What a gift from me? My life is hard enough.
Well-fed guys: Come on! Do you really have a hard life?
The curtain...
On the way home, warmed up in the car, I voluptuously imagined how the faces of the police heroes would change if I were already without hair and would take off my wig in response to their last phrase. It's sinful, but I still want to try to test the effect on some innocent traffic policeman. To recoup on sight for the error of the individual.
By the way, despite leukocytes less than 1.5, I did not even get sick that day. Not otherwise, from evil.

image source

Mama. I am ashamed.

I shouted at my mother. My steadfastness and presence of the spirit, with which I was secretly proud, crumbled into the dust from the bright blue cellophane package with the inscription "Assuta". I brought medicine from Israel for preoperative chemotherapy in this package. Every three weeks for almost three months, I, as a robber, crossed Golgotha myself, and carried another portion of "red" for the next dropper in this package.

image source

The package with the remnants of the drugs was crookedly and peacefully hanging on the back of the chair since last Friday, until today I had no idea that at least a quarter of the way passed - four chemotherapy courses behind. The thought was so pleasant, and memories of the charms of the "red" was so disgusting that the look of the package became instantly intolerable. It had to be thrown out immediately. No, it must be cut into pieces, burn, disperse into the wind, spray on atoms... And then my mother intervened. Her Soviet past and natural economy do not allow sending in the trash even a plastic jar from the baby food, let alone talking about such a luxurious strong large cellophane bag. So, my mother obstinated. The battle for the package was brief and shamefully ended in my thirty-second hysterics. I almost squealed that I hate this package, I do not want to see it anymore, I don't want to know that it is somewhere in my house. I want, that it never existed.
The hysteria ended as suddenly as it had begun. I seemed that I have seen myself from the side - a bald, thin woman with a face that was distorted from rage and impotence - and then I was silent. Mom tightly twisted the ill-fated package and silently threw it into the trash...

Inventory

So, the "red" is behind.
Reality regarding fears:

yes

nausea, dry skin, loss of taste, decreased appetite, exacerbation of pancreatitis, constipation, insomnia, aversion to odors, weakness, neutropenia, temperature 38C (once, but scary).

No

vomiting, stomatitis, overweight, febrile fever.

My hair fell out - all of them and everywhere, but they began to rise before the last dropper. Eyebrows and eyelashes thinned out, but survived.
In general - not the end of the world.

I apologize for the possible mistakes that arose in the translation. There are idioms that are difficult to translate into another language.

You can read all parts of the diary here:

1. https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-1-farewell-to-my-hair
2. https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-1-friends-mama-it-started
3. https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-1-israel-hospital
4. https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-1-bells-relatives-about-luck
5. https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-1-presence-of-spirit-what-i-do-not-need-lighthouses-and-
6. https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-2-god-forbid-if-you-will-meet-it-again-you-have-not-seen-me-and-
7. https://steemit.com/life/@obrenia/my-diary-part-2-wonders-of-telephone-medicine