Obviously I’ve been MIA from the blogosphere. This last round of chemo really knocked me
down after they upped my dosage, so I’ve been a mental zombie. However, I’m finally coming out of the fog
just in time for my next round of chemo beginning May 2. Awesome timing.
Being laid up gives me lots of time to think and my new
favorite topic of thought is getting my PhD.
However, the topic of my doctoral thesis is stumping me. I know I’d like to combine pop culture and
education with a twist of women’s studies, but that’s not quite specific enough
to make a many-page thesis.
Mainly I get a big kick out of the idea of handing out
business cards that say “Dr. Boyd.” I
feel like the family slacker with only my master’s when I look at people like
my dad or cousin Jake with their J.D.s.
It’d be nice to be the first doctor in the family, even if I wouldn’t be
the fun kind with the prescription pad.
I also had an adventure at the grocery store the other
day. By “adventure,” I mean “mildly
funny story.” We needed milk and my
chemo sweet tooth was demanding some sort of gummy fruit snack, so off to the
Whole Foods I go.
Being in the depths of chemo side effects and feeling just
miserable, I gave little thought to my appearance. (Besides, the hipsters who shop at my
particular Whole Foods aren’t really my type.)
So I’m in the candy when a long-haired stranger comes up to me and
begins a conversation.
Stranger: Pardon me, and forgive me if I’m completely off
base, but are you a member of the LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender)
community?
Me: (long pause) No… I just have cancer.
Stranger: (awkward silence) Oh. What stage are you in?
Me: Stage 2 Lymphoma.
Stranger: Well, I hope your treatment goes well. (World’s most awkward hug.) Good luck to you. (Runs off to frozen foods.
Me: (long pause) No… I just have cancer.
Stranger: (awkward silence) Oh. What stage are you in?
Me: Stage 2 Lymphoma.
Stranger: Well, I hope your treatment goes well. (World’s most awkward hug.) Good luck to you. (Runs off to frozen foods.
I suppose my outfit of straw hat, gray t-shirt, jeans, and a
pedicure did suggest a certain amount of sexual ambiguity.
On the upside, I have a title for my memoirs: Fedora Says “Lesbian,” Head Scarf Says “Cancer.”
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