Cancer Boy

When my wife and BFF was diagnosed with breast cancer about four years ago, she fashioned for herself a character called "Cancer Girl" who could get whatever she wanted, from whomever, in almost any situation, because of the eponymous disease. In slavish imitation I have adopted a similar nickname.

At Trader Joe's today, I grabbed the pre-made Carne Asada, and when BFF looked askance, I answered that it was for Cancer Boy. Similarly with the chocolate bar, and salt and pepper potato chips. An extra 6-pack of beer? Cancer Boy. Fresh scallops? Cancer Boy.

The expensive fifth of bourbon? You know who. Lounging in front of the NBA playoffs with a glass of same? Ditto.

After a big breakfast tomorrow, it will be chicken broth and jello until Monday's surgery. After that, I hope to be Cancer Boy no longer.