Several weeks ago I asked my Oncologist Dr. F to cut my steroid dosage in half.  Before receiving chemo, I am pumped up with Pepcid (to inhibit histamine responses in my gut), Benedryl (to prevent allergic reactions) and Dexametheson (a steroid to crush my immune system).

The steroids were giving me a bad case of ‘roid rage.  I have a hard enough time holding my tongue as it is.  I can’t help it when I think you are an asshole … it’s written all over my face.  I thought the dose reduction was working …

Yesterday, only a few hours after getting my chemo (and steroid) infusion, I took the dogs out for a walk, since Matt had been working a split shift from 4am to 10am then 4pm to 8pm.  As Annie squatted to pee, some dude sitting on a lawn chair in front of his barbershop yells at me “Pick that shit up!”

“Excuse me?”


“She just peed!”  I yell back as the dogs and I keep walking.

Dude says something unintelligible.

Uh oh.

At that point my anger has risen a few points, so I swung around and walked back through the parking long to confront him and his 6-foot buddy lounging in their lawn chairs in front of Badfellows.

“What did you say to me?”

Something unrepeatable.

The gates of hell opened.

“Fuck you.”

“He said pick it up and you swore at him.”  Says the other 6-foot dude.

I looked at him pointedly and said “I didn’t ask you.”

To the gentleman who kept on me about the dog shit, I flicked the roll of doggie poop bags on my dogs’ leash and said “I pick up the shit. She didn’t shit.  Are you a fucking asshole?  Do you say that to men or just pick on women?  You look like a small dick who harasses women.”

They both shut up.  I held my ground for a few seconds, then I walked away.

Dude said something else.  So I turned around, put my finger in his face and said “Say one more word and I will have you charged with harassment.”

My poor son wonders if I am going to get my head shot off on the highways some day.

Today … at Shoppers Drug Mart, this pompous middle aged entitled man swerves onto the wrong side of the driveway, forcing me to go around him so he can illegally park in front of the stores.  I go park.  He saunters up to the mail box, mails his bills and walks back to his car.

Without missing a beat, Heather in her cool sunglasses … without any warmth or smile says “You must be so priviledged to have that parking spot.”

Old dude sputters and snorts at me.  I keep going.

And then this lady dumps her cart in this pileup:

cart pileup

There was only the orange cart smashed into the truck when I went into another store.  Another two carts and this lady adding hers.

So I said something along the lines of “Are you kidding me?  The cart corral is that way.”  She must have known I was feral because she took her cart and parked it properly.

Lively discussion on Facebook after posting that /rant on about our pet peeves.  It was even livelier than the discussion about my consult with my reconstructive surgeon.

Stop Petting my Peeves

I am going to take a chill pill and relax tonight.  The world can let out the breath it was holding …

Maybe I will go find the zen at the waterfront with the dogs.  Or paint.  Or bake.  Or take a boxing class this weekend to let all that pent up energy dissipate.  Or hit the driving range and whack the shit out of that little white ball.  Or retail therapy.  I need sex. (Don’t worry guys!  Remember I am submissive! 😀 )

OMG that reminded me of something.  When I posted a question about ‘roid rage in my cancer FB group, one lady admitted that her husband said that sex with her while she was on steroids was like having sex with an aligator.

No joke.

See ya later …

Thank God I only have five more weeks of steroids and chemo.



P.S. What a gorgeous night!  The dogs and I walked … and walked … and walked!  Best summer evening this month.  Makes me happy to be alive.

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