Stick This In Your Fuse Box

I love AC/DC! I’m 48 years old but I’m proud to say they are still my all time favorite rock bands. If you graduated in 1984 like me you can relate. AC/DC was a staple cassette playing in your car playing every weekend on your way to a party!!! AC/DC still has a way with bringing out that feisty, free spirit I was when I was in high school every time I listen to their music.

I’ve been in a relationship with an older man. He’s 68. Ladies, if you’re my age and you still have that feisty spirit in you, my suggestion is do not get involved with an older man. It can really drain your spirit. And the worse part is, in my experience Listening to AC/DC is not at the top of their list. Hmmm it will be interesting to see how long this relationship will last. Again…..don’t do it!!!

I live in the city. I’ve been told the population in San Francisco is over 700,000 people. And from what I understand the population can reach a million during the work week. Yesterday I took my daily walk. It was a rather warm day so I thought “what the heck!” I took my hat off and exposed my lovely “chemo” head. I figured I’d try to get some sun and I have to be honest my head was sweating. It felt so good to air out my egg head as I walked outside. When I got home, the first thing my partner asked was “Where’s your hat?” He had this look of disbelief on his face. I replied “pardon me?” “Where’s your hat? Why were you walking around looking like that?” I looked at him and said “it’s in my pocket! I thought I’d tan my head!” (I mean really, who cares? I highly doubt a million people were going to notice or care.) Unfortunately, my partner didn’t agree. In fact, he had a slight bitch fit. I didn’t care. I just brushed him off and walked away. This morning when I got back from the gym I was greeted by “grumpy”. At this point I’m beginning to feel like saying something rude or worse throwing my Harley Boots at him but I took the high road. The building I live at was hosting a BBQ and luau pool party complete with food, drinks and a live Polynesian band. I asked my partner if he’d like to go with me. He of course said no. I knew he was embarrassed of me. Any one reading this who has either gone through chemo or is going through it right now, not all of you but some of you, can relate that our physical changes can quickly put a damper on our relationship. Some men are just so vain and caddy that it’s hard for them to view us as the “hot babes” we were pre cancer. It sucks but as I fight this disease I find myself developing a thick skin and not really caring anymore. My dad always used to say. “Velma, men are like greyhound busses. There’s always another one at the next stop, going the same place for the same fare!” Then he’d hand me a 100 dollar bill and tell me to go buy myself something pretty. As I go through this journey I find myself thinking about my dads words and think to myself “if this guy can’t see you as the beautiful person you are inside, then it’s his loss!” He’s just another greyhound bus than can be easily replaced down the road when I beat this.

Fighting cancer can be challenging. However, the positive for me is as I travel this journey I find myself becoming a much stronger woman. I’m not as worried about what others think of me, especially a boyfriend. I don’t like the person I see in the mirror but it is what it is. I can’t change it. I don’t even remember what the pretty girl I was looked like anymore. More importantly before anyone judges me based on my appearance, they need to take a walk in my shoes. Fighting cancer is a bitch!!! After my 3rd treatment, my partner got us tickets to go watch my beloved Giants play baseball. It was a baseball game so I thought I’d bypass the wig and wear a hat. I had to laugh when my partner threw himself on the couch and refused to move until I put my wig on. Seriously?! What is he 2?!!! Well I put the wig on. But I’m happy to report that as I’m further in to my treatment all of the insults don’t faze me anymore. In fact, I’m fighting back with some of my quick wit, smart ass comments that I’ve been known for. Something I had lost these past 2 years. Today however I decided to keep my mouth shut and do something better. I suppose the sight of “grumpy” finally send me over the edge. So today after he said no to joining me at the pool party I walked into the bathroom to take a shower. I left the door open and turned on my favorite AC/DC playlist and played it super loud. I took my time in the bathroom to ensure I send my guy over the edge. He’s a dinosaur remember? Rock music doesn’t sit well with him. After I got ready I decided to wear what he hates the most, my favorite pair of Gap Boyfriend jeans, (he hates when I wear them but lucky for him I didn’t wear the ones with holes), I slipped on a black top, a flowey sweater, I wrapped my favorite Harley Davidson bandana around my chemo head and topped it off with a black “sleep” hat. Then I rolled out my cutest sandals so I could expose my unpolished toes (polish is NOT recommended while going through chemo) and I walked out and went to the pool. But before I walked out I made sure to be listening to “Live Wire” (cuz I’m a live wire) and I sang really loud in the bathroom. My favorite part……stick this in your fuze box! Lol. I went to the pool party and had a great time. I hob nobbed with all of the neighbors. Then I walked to my acupuncture appointment looking like this. I’m including a photo and if you ask me, I think I look cute!! Lol. In other words. “Stick this in your fuze box Mr Caddy Old As Dirt Greyhound bus boyfriend!”

I copied the links to 2 of my favorite AC/DC songs for anyone who is fighting cancer and reading this. The next time your guy behaves a little caddy, put your big girl pants on and fight back while rocking out to only the best rock band ever. You’ll be surprised at the courage a little AC/DC will give you.

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3 thoughts on “Stick This In Your Fuse Box

  1. Seriously? In San Francisco you’d have to have three arms and antennae before anyone even gave a second glance. Their standard for weird is not the same as everyone else’s. A mere bald woman probably would be mistaken for Amish or something.

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