The Adventures of Cancer Bitch

APRIL 25. A CANCER BITCH BEHAVING BADLY

81 The designs are quite beautiful and swirly, and I feel dressed, not bald. The henna is hard and black but will flake off and be less pronounced. I am so glad I have a decorated scalp. I was in Trader Joe’s tonight in the soup-olives-peanut butter aisle and a little girl said something to her father about funny hair. I said: I don’t have any hair. I have designs on my head. You have to choose one or the other, I said, hair or designs. I didn’t feel bad at all. I think I would have felt much more self-conscious if my head was bare. I remember that a pregnant woman sold space on her belly in exchange for Super Bowl tickets. Three people so far have suggested I sell advertising space on my head. My friend Jodi in Madison wonders if short people will be able to read the back of my head, and if I’ll need a T-shirt to explain my head. APRIL 25. A CANCER BITCH BEHAVING BADLY Yesterday I went out lightly dressed and didn’t mean to be gone all day, but I was. And it got colder and colder (52 degrees). Around 8 p.m. or so I walked the half mile from Letizia’s Natural Bakery on Division near Damen, where I had a latte and a chocolate chip biscotto* and did some editing work, over to Ashland to get the bus. The bus came. I got off at Addison and waited in the drizzle for the Addison bus. When I exited at Clark, it was still raining. There was a Cubs game and I was going to cut through the parking lot, but some young guys in Cubs-type uniforms were standing bunched up near the entrance and said, You can’t go through the parking lot. I said, Why? He said, Because the players come through here and you can’t get close to them. I didn’t ask him why the players would be leaving in the middle of the game. He said I could take another path that was almost the same. I was so angry and cold and damp and didn’t want to take an extra step. I yelled, It’s raining and I HAVE CANCER! And I turned and took the other path. It really was almost the same as cutting through the lot. I was so angry even though I was laughing at myself. I could understand how people get out of control and become abusive in public. I wanted him to recognize how stupid 82 it was that there were five guys standing there guarding a lot from me. Me me me. I am harmless. I am a Wrigleyville resident, not some stupid fan. I live around here and put up with the Cubs traffic every year and the fans peeing and shouting in the alley and stealing our potted plants from the porch. I am wet and cold. I am one-breasted and bald, on my bare head I have written us out of iraq, I’m missing most of my eyebrows, I am almost home, and I AM CANCER BITCH. *Nota bene: Biscotti is plural only, despite what you hear and read. It means twice cooked. Thus terra cotta means cooked earth. Panna cotta means cooked cream. All this has nothing to do with the word origin of matzah. Or you can just ask for the mandel bread. APRIL 27. CANCER BITCH BEHAVING BADLY AGAIN I went to Caribou Coffee. There were bags of coffee for sale with pink ribbons on them. Part of the price goes to Susan G. Komen for the Cure, which goes for—what? More pink ribbons? I think Komen should sign on with Christo to wrap every woman with pink ribbons. Then it won’t matter if they have breast cancer or not, because you won’t be able to see it. As long as you can’t see it, it’s not a problem. And when they die, the survivors can turn the ribbons into a shroud. Oh, where was I? Yes, Caribou does sell coffee with pink ribbons with some portion going to the Komen foundation. I asked what the percentage was, and the barista told me that the company had pledged $100,000, and she asked if I wanted to buy a bag of coffee, and I said no, that as someone with breast...