Breast Reconstruction – Take 65
While playing volleyball again following my breast reconstruction several years ago is all fine and dandy, playing volleyball while hyped up on thyroid medicine is another story. I’m not sure how my team puts up with me:
“Doug, get it, get it, get it! Whoo-ee, my turn, I got it. Got it, got it, got it. Oh, it’s my turn to serve? Piece of cake. Speaking of cake, hey, Greta, I brought you another Autumn Harvest Muffin so you can eat it for breakfast tomorrow morning. Don’t let me forget to give it to you. Okay. Here I go. My turn to serve.” Wham. “Hey, I never hit it out. What’s wrong with me? I know how to serve. That’s one of the only things I can do. Waaaaaa. I usually serve that ball over the net and keep it in bounds every time.”
I’m sure my team wanted to muzzle me all night long. I ran all over the court talking and yelling the whole time like the Energizer Bunny on crack cocaine.
I could hardly wait until I was back to normal. Normal, you say? Yes. Yes, I do. I realize that normal is a relative term.