Munching MM

The good ol’ Rev is still chasing down and munching on those pesky little MM cells. There aren’t many of them left, but they sure are illusive little beasts. Their protein expression is still hovering around 10% of their peak value. A sort of stalemate. A battle of wills. I’m going to call in our newly adapted predator – Hope. She has plumped up a bit and is clearly ready for battle. Marley grumbles, groans and otherwise expresses her general dissatisfaction with being out maneuvered by a spry street smart younger sister. Besides she still eats like a little piglet and begs like she hasn’t been fed in days (despite the full bowl of organic wholesome chow 10 feet away). Maybe that tablespoon of milk I share in the morning when whitening my coffee has sealed my fate as the sharer of all food present. Marlee has been content to eat the same food year after year and never do the leg weeving, cabinet stretching meow of desperation and hunger. There is no possible humanitarian recourse besides obliging.

On a more practical note Revlimid has dried me out. I don’t wear solid colored shirts anymore. The snow drifts are fine if you like to ski. No quantity of gooey messy pillow ruining slim seems to have any effect. If I grease down and leave the house I have to be careful.

Bryl-creem, a little dab’ll do ya,
Use more, only if you dare,
But watch out,
The gals will all pursue ya,–
They’ll love to put their fingers through your hair.

Bryl-creem, a little dab’ll do ya,
Bryl-creem, you’ll look so debonair.
Bryl-creem, the gals will all pursue ya,
They’ll love to RUN their fingers through your hair.

Whole body slathering of love does improve my sense of wellbeing though. For that I am oh so grateful. The fish and flaxseed oil might be preventing total mummification. A fate I’d prefer to put off for a while longer.