I've been told more than once that I should write a novel about this whole suck ass cancer gig. I was telling some of my friends last night some minor things about staying here- getting all up in the cafeteria's business, how that one CNA took one look at an old Hanson poster that I have and said in all honesty, "those are gorgous little girls!" and how people who you thought you would never see again actually come visit you (*cough* paigehuggins *cough*). But when I sit down like right now to put all of these little incidents into actual formable sentences, all I get is amelia + leukemia + friends and family. Nothing more, nothing less. It's all been blurry. I hate being sick, but there's nothing I can really do about it but think happy thoughts.
I'm probably getting released tomorrow. This means a few things: I will most likely be able to go to Sean's baby shower, I won't see my favorite nurse Mike before I get released (he's fantastic. 30 something, married with children, but is a really great guy and we have fun talking about books and music, Leonard Cohen, etc, and has me figured out like clockwork. Very professional, and somehow manages to think that I'm some kind of inspiration, I have a good attitude, blah blah blah. I like him. His last name is Hanson. :-) ).
I only have sweat pants for being released. Boo. No real clothes. That might suck. Huh...
Anyway, I seriously can't think of anything funny or inspiring. Sorry. Fresh out. :-)