On Day 30, Joe escorted me to chemo treatment number two, and before the hook-up we visited with the oncologist who asked me about my behavior, sleep habits, and mood. “Fine,” I said.  “Pretty good.”

And to Joe, she asked, “Is that right or is she kicking butts and taking names?”

“Oh yeah,” Joe said.

I slapped him on the thigh. “She means am I being really mean to everybody at home,” I told him.

“No, you’re, like, feisty with a good attitude about getting through the cancer and all. That’s what it means.”

“No it doesn’t!”

“Yes it does. Taking names. Kicking butt.”

“No!”

“Maybe she’s just a little cranky at home,” the doctor said in a kind of whisper, writing something down.

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