The award giver? Granter? Grantor? Grantor, according to Merriam-Webster.
Okay, here we go again. The award grantor is my third cousin, the daughter of my Cousin Thom. After Thom's death, she took over his blog, To Gyre and Gambol, and has definitely lived up to his legacy.
Since I blogged about Thom, I haven't written another entry, although I've meant to do so. I've mentally composed several posts, but then didn't get around to writing them.
I've been busy. I met the man of my dreams, and on May 30, 2015, I will marry him in a smallish ceremony here in Houston. We now share a home, and he has been through a round of everyone's favorite game: "Megan's Bedridden Again!"
So we have the whole "in sickness and in health" thing covered.
Lots going on. And that's part of why I haven't blogged: I felt there was too much to catch up on.
But now, I've been given an award, and so I will blog, tonight, for the first time in six months.
So here are the questions Amy sent me to answer:
- Why did you start blogging?
- Do you have a favorite scar? Tell us its story
Three favorite scars: one beneath my right breast - 1.5" long and 1/8" wide; quasi-symmetrical ones fanning out from my waist down to my hips. The fan-shaped scars used to be bright red, then purple, but now they're a shiny flesh-tone, almost invisible unless you see them in the right light. Or wrong light, depending on your feelings about scars.
All three come from chemotherapy treatment as a 17 year old. I got all of them within a three month period of time. On December 4, 1999, I had surgery to implant a port-a-cath, which is usually implanted above the breast in teenage patients, so it doesn't interfere with brassieres. When I was diagnosed, however, I weighed a skeletal 105 lbs, so there wasn't enough fat over my rib cage to implant the port-a-cath above my breast. So the placed it below my right breast, but out of the way of the band of my bra.
The other two scars are also related to my being 105 lbs of nothing when I was diagnosed with leukemia. My doctors put me on steroids, you see, as part of my treatment, and I proceeded to eat all the food ever. I would go through a gallon of whole milk and 1.5 lbs of ham in two days. And that doesn't include the 3 a.m. scrambled eggs I would make for myself, or the Oreos, or the microwaved frozen broccoli.
I gained a lot of weight in a short period of time, and after three months of chemotherapy and steroids - and the puffiness that comes with being on steroids - I noticed that I was getting funny marks on my hips. Stretch marks. From gaining weight.
I used to be ashamed of the scars on my hips. It's helped that they've faded, with time, but I also see them as a symbol of what I went through, and who it helped me to become.
- Are you sunrise, daylight, twilight, or night?
I used to think I was night. I'm still a bit of a night owl, but something I've learned in the past six months is that I crave sunlight. I've actually cured migraines by sitting in the sunlight and resting, so I think I'm now daylight.
- What's the best meal you've ever had?
It wasn't the best food I've ever had, but the company couldn't be beat.
- If you wrote a book, what would it be about? Write the inside front jacket.
But as for writing the inside front jacket? I don't know if my late-night mental muscles are up to that taxing task...
- Tattoos: yea or nay?
- What do you wish you were better at?
- Which young-adult bestseller-turned move do you dislike the most?
- Public school or private? Interpret whichever way you like.
- What fashion decision do you most regret?
I'm supposed to pass this on, now, and award it to someone else. The difficulty there is that I'm out of practice with reading blogs. I never really read other peoples' blogs, much. This blog was just a way for me to vent, and to be creative and maybe have 100 people read an entry on Margaret Atwood's MaddAddam series (which she finally finished. Helllo! That took a while!).
So I'm going to be a bad sister, in this Sisterhood of Bloggers, and break the chain.
Hopefully I don't have 7 years of bad luck.