World's Greatest Medical Oncologist!

Hello!  Well the Goatmother finished Round 3 of her chemotherapy today.  It was thankfully uneventful, I'm sure due to the great skills of the person you see below.

Kenny G?????  What, the hay??!!!  Goatmother, will you get OFF here!  This is MY blog!!!!!  Oy.  The things I have to put up with around here.

Now, then, the REAL person with all the skill will appear below.  Kenny G has left the building.  Really.  It is safe now.

This is the Goatmother's lovely Medical Oncologist, and let me tell you, she is the World's Best Medical Oncologist!  At least we certainly think so.  I mean how many Medical Oncologists do you know who are willing to appear on the blog of a philosophical goat?  I bet not many, if any at all.  In fact, this might actually be a first.  We may be treading unknown territory here.  But  allow me to say that this woman is definitely on top of things and an asset to her profession.  Plus she is a very nice person.  What a combination, eh?

So one more session to go, and we are so very thankful to have had this wonderful lady on our team.  No one could ask for better.

"Dare to reach out your hand into the darkness, to pull another hand into the light. " ~Norman B. Rice   

Okay, we think this fits her quite nicely.

So Here's The Thing ...

I'm sure no one has been keeping track, but come Monday the Goatmother is going for Round 3 with the champ.  Okay, well, maybe not the champ, but on the other hand, if it gets rid of the evil 'C' monster it's a champ in my book and can have the ring, the big belt buckle and everything.  Anyway, what this means is that tomorrow the Goatmother must take the steroids.  Now, if you recall, the steroids turn the Goatmother into the Barry Bonds of cleaning and may actually qualify her for the Hall of Fame.  Nothing is safe.  But this time, the Goatmother thought she'd get a little head start.  I mean why do it all in one day?

So first the dogs got a bath (See?  I told you nothing was safe.  And I can tell you it is a darned good thing the Goatfather is taking care of us goats right now, or we'd all be hiding.)  Next there was laundry, finding a place to store her burgeoning hat collection, hanging the beautiful Snowcatcher snowflakes, deadheading the African Violets, a little light dusting, the dishes, etc. etc. etc.  Then it came time to clean the bathrooms, which, of course, required some mirror cleaning.  So the Goatmother reached into the cabinet and pulled out the blue bottle of Windex and headed for the bathroom.  Now the bathroom mirror has three panels, so the Goatmother sprayed all three panels liberally and and began to wipe it off.  Naturally the first swipe always leaves a film, so you have to go over it again with a dry paper towel to achieve that streak-free shine.  She rubbed and rubbed, but for some reason that film just wasn't coming off.  Hmmmm.  "Must be because I grabbed those paper towels that were under the steam cleaner", she thought.  So she dutifully got a fresh roll of paper towels and tore off a brand new one.  She sprayed the three panels again and wiped it off just as before, but oddly the film seemed to have gotten even worse.  This time when she used the second clean paper towel, that stubborn film just refused to do anything but smear around. 

The Goatmother rubbed and rubbed, but her arms were beginning to get awfully tired.  "Ah, ha!", thought she.  "I will use rubbing alcohol like I do on my glasses!"  So out came the rubbing alcohol liberally poured onto yet another clean paper towel.  By this time, quite a pile of paper towels was beginning to build up on the counter.  Let it never be said that the Goatmother is anything but completely thorough.  No amount of paper towels is too large to expend when one is on a quest.  But even the rubbing alcohol and more clean paper towels could not remove that film. 

"What in the world is going on?", thought the Goatmother.  And that was when the elevator finally made it to the top floor.  The Goatmother looked at the blue bottle in her hand whose label  had magically morphed from Windex to ... Oxi-Clean.  For sure ain't no stains on that mirror.

So let this be a lesson to you.  "The way to get ahead is to start now.  While many of us are waiting until conditions are 'just right' before we go ahead, others are stumbling along, fortunately ignorant of the dangers that beset them.  By the time we are , in our superior wisdom, decided to make a start, we discover that those who have gone fearlessly on before, have, in their blundering way, traveled a considerable distance.  If you start now, you will know a lot next year that you don't know now, and that you will not know next year, if you wait." - William Feather.

Imelda Goatmother

Remember that lady, Imelda Marcos, the one that had all the shoes?  Somebody estimated at one time she had 3,000 or more pairs of shoes.  Now, I could understand that if that lady were a goat and had four feet instead of just two.  Anyway, allow me to grace you with a couple more pictures of the Goatmother. (Remember her?  She who does not like to have her picture taken, let alone plastered on the internet?)

First off we have this lovely hat from our friend, the Snowcatcher.  You may remember the talented Snowcatcher created this pattern, made this lovely hat, and then posted the pattern as part of Operation Marigold so that anyone might recreate it for someone in need, or perhaps donate it to their local cancer center or other organization.  Anyway, the kind lady not only did this, but, like our friend, Mrs. Micawber, sent the hat to the Goatmother!  How nice is that?

Not only is this hat beautiful, but it makes the Goatmother look like she actually has hair!  Never mind that it is turquoise hair, but, hay, lots of females have strange colored locks these days.  It is in vogue.  Besides, she could always apply to be a rebel barrister.  But the Snowcatcher didn't stop with the hat.  She also sent the Goatmother more of those exquisite snowflakes she makes!  Just look at the two examples the Goatmother is holding with that cheesy grin on her face.  They look good enough to eat, though I doubt the Goatmother would let anyone near enough to test that theory.  All I can say is what a truly gracious lady.  I wonder if she can crochet Peanuts?

Now then, what you see in the next picture came as a complete surprise and it made the Goatmother laugh (always a good thing these days).  Not only did it make the Goatmother laugh, but it made all of us laugh when we saw her in it!  It is perfect, though perhaps a bit warm for the weather at the moment.  Nonetheless, we sincerely doubt the Goatmother is going to have hair anytime in the near future, so we think it likely the hat  will get a true workout at some point.  Besides, if she wasn't already, it further serves to make the Goatmother a bona fide member of the herd.

And just in case you still don't quite get it, take a closer look.  There are horns and ears on that hat!  Yep, horns and ears and a canonization to Goathood courtesy of our wonderful friend, MiMi, over at The Goat Borrower. 

With all these hats, the Goatmother is beginning to resemble the Imelda Marcos of hats.  Soon she may have to grow another head.  Now that would be interesting.  However, I feel the need to point out that if the Goatmother had two heads, she'd likely just waste it worrying twice as much.  Still, we are working on that aspect.  Worrying is not a good weapon against the evil 'C' monster, and our aim is to get her to meditate that stuff right out of her head - no matter how many she has.  In fact, I'm thinking of letting her borrow my stump.  Which only goes to prove how much I care for the Goatmother because I would never let just anybody use my stump.  Aren't I magnanimous?

At any rate, Imelda's gratitude to these two ladies is immeasurable.  It is also largely inexpressible, at least in an adequate manner.  Humbly, Snowcatcher and Goat Borrower, our thanks to you.  May the blessings of the great goat God, Pan, be abundantly expressed in your lives.  (This means many Peanuts will likely rain down on your head.  Better invest in an umbrella.)

One can pay back the loan of gold, but one dies forever in debt to those who are kind.  ~Malayan Proverb

Cowabunga!!!!

Duuuude!  Thas' what I'm talkin' 'bout!  And look ... wouldn't you know they're blondes? 
See the article here.

(Source)

Oy.

A New Super Power

You may recall that the Goatmother, thanks to the presence of the port, has joined the ranks of the Power Puff Girls as Butt-erBean (Sorry, I just had to spell it that way.  Just call it goatwriter's license.), caped crusader for good?  Well, let me just say she takes her role seriously.  As a result, she has been pondering myriad ways to thwart evil, stand for good, and uphold the rights of men, women, moms, goats and apple pie.  Oh, wait.  Maybe not so much with the apple pie.  Apple pie does pretty well on its own.

Anyway, like I said, she's been considering this a lot.  Then, quite by accident, the Goatmother came to be aware of a new Super Power.  Now you are likely wondering just how a port-possessing, chemically enhanced, bald ninja of a woman of questionable age could possibly come up with a new Super Power.  Let's just say the Universe sometimes likes to surprise you.

Picture this, if you will.  The Goatmother is outside.  She hasn't been going outside much because, well, chemotherapy  kind of does that to you.  This has served to make the Goatmother rather cranky, which is really saying something considering she is normally hardly ever cranky.  (Except, of course, when it comes to Ella because, let's face it, who doesn't Ella make cranky?)  Anyway, the Goatmother is sitting outside on the back deck when suddenly she hears a high pitched whine in the vicinity of her ear.  That's when it hit her.

"Come on, you sorry little blood sucking vampire.  Bite me!  I dare you!!!"

"Whhhhrrrrrrr....zzzzzzz....whrrrrrrreeeee..."

"Come on, you flying little sack of insectoidal vermination!!!  What'sa matta you?  Cheeeecken?   Pock-pock-pock-brawwwaaackk!!!!  I double-dog...no double-GOAT DARE you!!!!!!"

"WhhhhhrrrrrrRRRRRR.....zzzzZZZZZZ....wHRrrrrrreeeee..."

"Aw, come ON.  Dude!  One bite.  Just one eensy, teensy, tiny little taste.  There's stuff flowin' in these veins you don't even wanna' know what it is!!!!!"

"Whhhhrrrtttt.....wheeeeeee.... zzzzzzzzz     ....     plop."


And that's how it happened.  Butt-erBean.  Saving the World - one blood sucker at a time.


"Personal transformation can and does have global effects. As we go, so goes the world, for the world is us. The revolution that will save the world is ultimately a personal one." - Marianne Williamson

There Are Times

You know, there are times.  There are times when the sense of humor that keeps you afloat,  evades you like the fragile, flighty butterfly  it is.  There are times when no matter how lucky you are, or how lucky you feel, the hard reality of it all comes crashing down on you like a thundering wave.  Swallowing you up and making it hard to breathe.  There are times when no matter how hard you try -  to help, to be in control, to manage - you just can't.  And you are tired.  Sometimes so bone weary you think you'll never be able to manage another step forward, though forward is where you need to go because everyone is there waiting to see that you are somehow okay in spite of it all.  They need to know.  There are times when it hurts - physically, emotionally and spiritually.  Times when you get up in the morning, look in the mirror to catch a glimpse of that person who used to be there looking back, but instead find yourself gazing at someone you barely recognize.  There are times when you become mired in fear even though you know in your heart  it isn't a good place to be.  And sometimes those ugly 'what if's' grab at your heart and hold on,  threatening to carry you away in a tsunami of doubt.  There are times when all those half full glasses suddenly look half empty. 

There are those times.  They aren't much fun.  Yet if one denies their existence, it only serves to somehow give them more power.   In some odd quirk of fate, to acknowledge them makes it easier to let them go.

"Courage doesn't always roar.  Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow" - Mary Anne Radmacher

World's Greatest Medical Oncology Nurse

So, here I am for the last of my three part documentary...  Oh, no. Wait.  This isn't a documentary.  That would be on Peanuts, and I haven't really had the time to think that one through yet.  Anyway, this is the third of three posts for the day.  That's right.  I remember now.  Now don't get corn-fused.  You aren't supposed to do that, remember?

Here, my friends, is a picture of the World's Greatest Medical Oncology Nurse:

Now, wait just a Peanut-eatin' minute here.  Isn't that the Goatmother in that picture?  The Goatmother who doesn't have her picture taken?  Surely that must be a stunt double.  At any rate, don't hurt yourself trying to figure it out.  Just know that the really important person is the one on the right.  That is the World's Greatest Medical Oncology Nurse.  She is so great that Muhammad Ali would say he's merely the sufficientest.  She is so great, the Wall of China would call itself only outstanding.  She's so great ... oh, well, maybe I'm getting a little carried away.  Who me?

Honestly, this woman is the best.  She is right there for her patients, and trust me when I say that no one, and I do mean NO ONE, messes with her charges.  To do so would be like spitting in the face of a hurricane.  She always makes time, even when there's no time to be had, and every patient ends up feeling like they are the only one.  I ask you, how many times in life does that  happen?  This one's a treasure for sure. 

Daisy: "What kind of a garden do you come from? "
Alice:  "Oh, I don't come from any garden. "
Daisy: "Do you suppose she's a wildflower?" - Alice In Wonderland

The World's Greatest Lymphedema Therapist

Due to the fact that I am so far behind, I am going to do something no intelligent blogger should ever do - post more than once in a day.  The reason for this is that readers often get confused, seeing only the last post, and missing entirely, previous ones.  My readers, however, are of above average intelligence, and I am quite sure this will not be the case.

This will, however, require that I make at least three posts today because, well, the people mentioned each deserve their very own post.  They are that special!

Now, then, this is the World's Greatest Lymphedema Therapist:

As you can see, she simply has to be special because she is holding up a card with a picture of me!  But there is much more to it than that.  You see, since the Goatmother had lymph nodes removed, she is now subject to lymphedema on the affected side for the rest of her life.  Something as minor as having your blood pressure taken on the affected side, or blood drawn from that side, could trigger edema at any time, regardless of how long ago the nodes were removed.  Enter the World's Greatest Lymphedema Therapist.  She showed the Goatmother exercises she could do that could help prevent such an occurrence.  But you know what the very best part is?  In a world where suddenly everyone else but you holds the car keys, here finally, is something the Goatmother feels like she can do for herself.  Some little soupçon of control handed back into the hands of someone who suddenly has very little.  Universe Bless the Lymphedema Therapist!

And she is a sweetheart of person to boot.  How could anyone ask for more????  Unless, perhaps, she happened to have a few Peanuts on her.  I'm just sayin' ...

This and That and Some Other Stuff

Ah, ha!  I bet you have been wondering what in the name of all that is goatly has happened to Marigold?  Am I right?  Of course I am.  I am omniscient.  Okay, maybe not so much.  Anyway, it has been a while, and I can say, with all honesty, that there is a reason.  The Goatmother went for Round 2, and she actually thought she was going to get off lightly.  (Goatmother, thy name is optimism!)  Day Two and Day Three were pretty darned good, all things considered.  But by the evening of Day Three, that dreaded Day Four had begun to rear its ugly head.  Of course it did.  If you have a name like 'Day Four', well, you have a reputation to uphold.  Worse yet, if it happens to include something like  'the Infamous'  Day Four, you sure wouldn't want anyone to go around thinking you're some kind of candy-butt.  It becomes quite necessary to flex your muscle in order to keep the lackeys from becoming complacent.

Still, the Goatmother made it through the Infamous Day Four, and beyond.  For whatever reason, though, she doesn't seem to be gaining on it quite as quickly as last time.  Frankly, she is just pooped.  This necessitates a few things, one of which is a conservancy of energy.  Now you are probably wondering what that has to do with me, but let's just say I need to eat my Peanuts in order to keep up with helping.  That being said, I will present you, then, with a post that is more pictures than words.  I'm behind anyway, and this way I can say a lot without having to actually SAY a lot.  Like a picture is worth a thousand words, dude.

First of all, I have to rectify a grave error.  I should have posted this picture a loooong time ago.  It just didn't happen.  Not that this is an excuse, just and explanation of sorts.  Well, you may remember that the fabulous Mrs. Micawber posted a most wondrous pattern on her website so that anyone could make and donate hats to their local Cancer Care Center, or to anyone they might know of  in need.  She even provided a list of places to send such treasures if persons interested had no local outlet.  She, along with the wonderful Snowcatcher, launched 'Operation Marigold'.  But Mrs. Micawber didn't just create this pattern and make  the lovely hat.   She actually sent it to the Goatmother, along with a most cherished box of perfectly pink Kleenex to tide the Goatmother over in her quest to support said company thereby keeping it in business.  Only problem is the Goatmother is so enamored with the pink tissue (because she and the Goatfather only ever purchase plain old white) that she doesn't want to use them!  She just sits and gazes adoringly at the box.  Oy. 

Anyway, without further adieu, and with a heart full of gratitude, we present the following pictures.  I need to point out, here, that the Goatmother absolutely HATES to have her picture taken - especially right now.  But in honor of this woman's kindness, she conceded to allow it, not once, but twice!  (Disclaimer:  No cameras were harmed or damaged in the taking of these photos.  At least not so far as we have been able to ascertain.)

And ...

Humbly, Mrs. Micawber,  thank you.

Things We've Learned About Hair Loss

Well, here I am!  I apologize for not keeping up very well, and I have a lot of things to post about, too!  Plus no one ever said I don't have anything to say.  The word verbose comes to mind, but I much prefer to think of it as imparting important philosophical knowledge.  Yes, that's exactly what it is.

Anyway, the Goatmother took her steroids today in preparation for tomorrow's impending Round 2 with Evander HolyCrap, The Chemo Cancernator.  Steroids kind of make the Goatmother the Super Hero of House Cleaning.   But this morning, it didn't seem like they were going to affect her all that much.  It was kind of like her body said, 'Hey.  Is this the best you can do?  My granny hits harder than this.'  But as the day wore on,  the cleaning effect reared its ugly head.   In fact we ought to give the Goatmother a new Super Hero sobriquet -  ScrubbyWoman.  (That woman is going to have a whole closet full of lettered capes before this over.)  But the worst part is that her recent hair loss, coupled with her penchant for steroid-induced cleanliness, now has her running around the house babbling,  'Mr. Clean.  What a HUNK!'  Oy.

Anyway, that's why I haven't posted.  Have you ever tried to type with someone constantly trying to clean your keyboard and your screen?  How about your hooves?  (Yeah, she did that too.)  It ain't easy.  Plus, just watching her completely wears me out.  It's kind of like watching the EverReady bunny get ready to go on vacation, only you know she isn't going to have nearly as much fun when she actually gets where she's going.

Now then, on with the subject of this post!  You thought I forgot,  didn't you?  I don't think so, Tim.  So, things we've learned about hair loss:

1)   Jaimie Lee Curtis saves a lot of money on hair products.

2)   It doesn't take nearly as much time to get ready to go anywhere.  Who actually knew blow drying and styling took so much time?

3)   Chemotherapy drugs  only seem to like dark hair.  This leaves anyone with 'platinum blonde highlights' (Thank you, Annie, for letting me borrow that! :)) now a completely natural 'platinum blonde'.  Only trouble is you don't get to look like Lady GaGa.  More like Frank Sinatra as an old man.  Or one of those people from the Zombie movies.  We figure maybe all that 'platinum' stuff that is left is being saved for that Round 2 with Evanader .   Or maybe not.  Who knows?

4)   Hair loss from Chemotherapy gives a whole new meaning to the term 'Brazilian'.   And trust me, it has nothing at all to do with folks who live in Brazil.

5)   For awhile, it is worth considering purchasing a 'Furminator'.  Plus it becomes somewhat a matter of one-ups-manship as to who can actually leave more hair on the floor - the dog or the human.  In this case, the human won, hands down.  Oops.  Maybe that should be hairs down.

6)   Scarves and big hoop earrings are a good match.  As is a sideline in palm or Tarot reading.

7)   When you have no hair, it can become evident that your mother left you lying on your back as a baby faaaar too long.  Flathead is not just a Native American Indian tribe.

8)  (And certainly not least)  Mr. Clean is the BOMB!  (Okay.  You knew that was coming.  I tried to warn you.  Really, I did.)

Okay, so before I sign off, there are a couple more matters of business to attend to.  ( I know.  Never end a sentence with a preposition.  Deal with it. )  First, you may notice in my side bar, that I have been honored with a prestigious award from Mimi Foxmorton, the Goat Borrower!  This award is from the Sisterhood of the Goat and we are MORE than proud to receive it.  Thank you a thousand fold, Mimi.  We are humbled.

Second, I want to recognize a dear lady and her goats.  She is the shy and retiring type and has asked not to be named, but OH!, she so deserves to be!  Still, to honor her wishes, I will not name her, and tell you only that she sent the Goatmother, in the mail, from clear across the country, the most BEAUTIFUL sack full of luscious red potatoes grown in compost from her lovely band of goaties.  (She also included , for moi, a sack full of the most delicious organic sugar coated cereal.  Swoon ... )  Now we are all aware of the 'chicken and potato' fetish the Goatmother has recently acquired, so you can well imagine that even MORE Kleenex were killed when this package arrived.  Thank you, dear lady!  You have no idea how much the Goatmother appreciates your thoughtfulness. 

So, okay!  Time to see if the steroids will allow the Goatmother to stop cleaning and actually go to sleep.  Please stay tuned because I still have to tell you about the World's Greatest Medical Oncology Nurse, and the World's Greatest Lymphedema Therapist!  Both have graciously consented to be on this humble Goat's blog.  So coming up!  Same time, same station!

"Well, after this I should think nothing of falling down stairs." - Alice, Alice In Wonderland