Survivorship clinic

A month or so ago, I got a message entitled SURVIVORSHIP.

Which was a little alarming.

At first I was afraid, I was petrified.

Ha.

This message was a notification for an appointment—now this afternoon—at the Survivorship Clinic.

Do I turn right at the Pope to get there? I don't know.

If you google, you'll find that lots of places have survivorship clinics.

Maybe the name doesn't bother other people? I feel like this is tantamount to calling it the Hanging On By Your Fingernails Clinic.

The image that pops into my mind is Rose on the door, Jack in the water.

Which leads me to that long-ago "Loser" song by Beck. Because I'm bad at lyrics, I used to think that "soy un perdedor" was "boy with his head on the door".

It makes no sense. I know. This is not a prerequisite for me liking a song. I mean, MacArthur Park is one of my favorites. 

Spring was never waiting for us, dear...

I think this is attributable to ADHD-brain associations. I don't know.

What I do know is that I could make this kind of association and Betty would be right there with me. Maude can be right there with me.

Nick every once in a while makes the leap and knows exactly what I'm talking about out of the blue, and when that happens, it makes him nervous.

Anyway, my understanding is it's about living forward after cancer treatment.

Why not call it Quality of Life Clinic? That's a nicer imagine than SURVIVORSHIP.

But back to Jack.

One of my goals is to do ice baths. I know they're trendy. But they're also really good for you.

Since I would rather be in 100 degree heat than cold, and since I can be cold at 70 degrees, Nick is highly skeptical. He asked if we might hold off on buying the ice tub for a bit, until I've somehow proven that I can do this.

Which is reasonable. Our house is littered with my half-projects.

Although I'm fairly intent on this one. I've begun ending my showers cold.

When I was in Peace Corps training, the family I lived with had said they had hot water, but they did not. 

There were these immersion heaters that you would attach to the shower to heat the water as it went through. If your water pressure was too high, cold shower. Too low, scalding. And I had friends who had one that shocked you every time you turned it on.

So a hot shower was kind of a gamble.

But anyway, my family did not have hot water. So I'd go for a run early every morning, and jump in the shower immediately after, to be able to bear the Andean cold water.

Which is to say, I'm capable of tolerating extremely cold water.

We're going to England for Christmas, and I jokingly suggested to my friend Fiona that maybe I could do a cold plunge in the Thames. Although that might be kind of sketch, like getting in the Potomac?

She was all, yes, dodgy, do NOT get in the Thames! 

Dodgy! Such a great English word. One I need to work into my vocabulary.

Anyway, I know I can do the cold plunge, and breathe calmly. I can definitely be cold.

It's just that so far, nobody I know has seen me prefer it.

But!

I'm strong and persistent. So I'll be hanging out in an icy bucket before you know it.

I'll be watching you all with the eye...of the tiger.