My stay-at-home-moms' group has a Moms' Night Out once a month. Last night, a bunch of us got together at a martial arts studio for a self-defense class. We learned a few moves, and I'm now confident that if an armless, legless, creepy-looking rubber dummy ever attacks me in a parking lot, I can TOTALLY kick its butt. Well, I guess it doesn't technically have a butt. I can kick its support post that serves as a butt.
When I got home, I told Jay all of the important things we learned about eyeball gouging and crotch-kicking (Eyeballs squish as easily as grapes; when you kick a guy, imagine that you're going to kick all the way up to his chin, and you're just going through the crotch to get there) and now he's a little scared of me, I think. I promise to use this new-found crotch-kicking knowledge for good, not evil.
I'd like to kick my M-spike in the crotch, though: The Cancer Center called yesterday, and Spike is still hanging in there at 2.0! This is where it has been since August. I know that Dr. H assured me that plateaus are totally normal, and that the M-spike will most likely continue to go down again someday, but I still don't like it. I didn't spend my weekends all dexed out so that my M-spike can lounge around and laugh at me. Stupid spike.
Still, I am enjoying temporarily being off the drugs. Last weekend was my first weekend in over five months without dex. It was GLORIOUS. All day Saturday, I kept waiting for it to kick in ... and then I'd remember that I didn't take any. I felt like a normal person. Nice.