Good for my humility :)

I'm designing hair & makeup for a production of Macbeth that opens this Friday.  This is a very active production - lots of sword fighting with real swords, not plastic or wooden ones, and the witches have some pretty creepy movement when they're not playing Messenger #1, Lady's Maid #2, etc.  All this means that, for example, fight call takes a lot of time because there's so much to rehearse.  (Fight call is when the performers go through their fight choreography, first at half speed, then at full speed.  This is a very important safety procedure.)

Our costumers are still putting finishing touches on the players' armor, cloaks, etc., and the lighting and sound are still being tweaked.  All this to say that our director has a LOT of pieces to look at and make decisions on.  So far, I've gotten only one note, on the first version of Witch #1's wig.  Just finding the time to ask her a question when she doesn't look like her brain will explode serves to remind me that, while not unimportant, hair & makeup is well down most directors' list of things that they need to render a decision on.  In fact, one of the cast told me that this is the first production she's been in that even had a hair & makeup person.

Bottom line:  It's important to me because that's where my focus is.  Other people, however, have a LOT more things competing for their attention, so my priority and theirs don't align.  I'm not whining, just laughing ruefully at myself.

(My witches won't look like this but I liked the photo.)

Mammo time again :(

Just scheduled my next mammogram yesterday.  This is a semi-annual, diagnostic mammo instead of the standard annual version because I'm "special".  😬  I've been doing this for a few years now, so it shouldn't be a big deal.  However, because of the thyroid cancer diagnosis, part of me wonders if they're gonna find more cancer.  Pray for my peace of mind.

The office where I used to get my mammos done had this cartoon posted where the victim, er, patient could see it.

“Chemo brain” without (thank heaven!) the chemo

It’s been coming on gradually but yesterday was the worst.  I could not seem to keep a thought in my head or to focus if my life depended on it!  I don’t know whether it’s a reaction to the thyroidectomy, or the synthroid, or some combination thereof, but it sure makes life difficult.  “Make lists,” you might say.  Unfortunately, that’s a solution only if I can still remember what I want to write down by the time I find paper and a pen. 😢

Low-key birthday this year

The big "event" of my birthday the other day was spending an hour with my Nuclear Medicine doc.  Given how important that is right now, that's not particularly surprising.  My birthday won't be greeted with fanfare this year, and that's OK.  Tonight's Greek dinner was fine.  The restaurant was fairly empty in our section, so our waitress had time to chat with us.  Better, we managed to get home before the rain started.

Among other things, the Chief & I talked about how fortunate we are to be retired, to have the time and resources to treat ourselves to a nice dinner out.  Not having to worry about cramming domestic maintenance into the few hours work doesn't take means we can do things at a more leisurely pace.  We put in our time; now we can kick back & relax.

Going nuclear Nov. 4th

Had a 1-hour video visit w/ my Nuclear Medicine doc this morning.  We covered a lot - hence the lengthy session.  I "get nuked" Nov. 4th, starting a low-iodine diet Oct. 28th.  I get an injection 2 days before I get the treatment, then again the day before, along with a contrast dye for a pre-treatment scan the morning of the 4th.  (I'm gonna need to write all this on my calendar to help keep it all straight.)

I'll be in isolation for 6 or 7 days, though I'll still be ever so slightly radioactive after that.  They'll give me a card documenting my medical radiation so that, if I set off TSA's sensors when the Chief & I fly out for my sister's wedding a few weeks later, they'll let me on the plane.

The Chief sat in on my visit and we were both relieved to learn that the "radiation safety" precautions won't be quite as strict as some of what I'd read online.  I still have to stay away from people that first week, and can only prepare food for myself, not anyone else, but I don't have to worry that simply being in the kitchen will contaminate the house or even that room.  Not only that, but the iodine breaks down in water, so that's all that's required to clean up after myself - no Clorox or other heavy-duty cleaners.

Tomorrow's the big day

My video consult w/ Nuclear Medicine is tomorrow - finally!  The Chief and I have a SLEW of questions about the whole business.  I'm hoping & praying that we'll get answers to all those questions so that we can start planning again.  It'll be at least a couple of weeks before I "get nuked" because of the required prep (like the low-iodine diet), but I plan to tell the NucMed doc that under no circumstances will I let this interfere with attending my sister's wedding in December!

2 months post-op

Two months after getting my throat slit, you can hardly see the incision.  My traumatized vocal fold has recovered, the rash is on the wane, and in general I feel just fine.  Next week I hope to learn when I'll get my radioactive iodine treatment, and to get details on the prep, including the low-iodine diet.