It's Not a Hickey, I Swear!

Two posts in one day. Must be something good right? No. I looked like a total jerk today and had to share.

Around noon, I was pretty exhausted and in a lot of pain. I took my pain meds, but my arms were still hurting. As a side effect, I felt pretty dizzy. However, we still needed groceries for the pending hurricane.You'd think that it's a pending a zombie apocalypse the way the NYC is freaking out.

So I suffer through the crowded grocery story with my arms throbbing. I can hardly figure out what would be good to get in a hurricane. I think I ended up with oatmeal cream pies, cheetos, bread, and peanuts. (Note: they were out of what Eric's recommend Strawberry Poptarts).  I'm in the checkout line, in front of me is a little old lady with a lot of groceries, most of it looks super heavy. I'm pretty sure it was implied that I should help her load the stuff to the counter. My arms were seriously throbbing and I'm trying not to vom from the pain meds. It was all I could do to hold my own stuff. (remember we're in NYC where no one uses a cart.) So she loads all her stuff by herself slowly as I stand there onlooking. She checks out and leaves, giving me a dirty look, as I start loading my stuff onto the conveyor belt.

The old lady behind me, who was getting help from someone stranger behind her, looks at me and says "oh honey, that is a huge hickey on your neck. You should wear a scarf". Apparently, my tape rash and scar on my neck from the chemo port looks like a hickey. (See earlier post on chemo port. Tape gone, rash remaining). I tried to tell little old lady #2 that it was from surgery and show her the lower mark. She still looked disgusted.

Thanks hurricane Irene and cancer for making me look like a self-centered hickey-flaunting jerk.