By those who've been around me socially or know me fairly well, when described, quickly I've been dropped into the category of moderately "boogie". Now, to my White friends, in the Black community, "boogie" is short for bourgesie. And we all know what that's supposed to mean, the creme de la crème, the upper crust, the best part. For some, this label is a compliment, celebrated even. For others not so much; it's another way of saying 'you're a snob who really doesn't have a pot to pee in or a window to throw it of.
I don't believe I'm "boogie". I like what I like. I don't take offense to the term, nor do I celebrate it. It just is what it is. I give this lesson to demonstrate how I've learned the valuable lesson of taking sweet care, not to judge. And it was a fork that continues to teach me this lesson.
My second round of chemo, which at this writing is complete, was comprised of Carbo Platin. It's a different chemo-therapy, one that rarely avails, hair-loss, altered taste buds and nail bed hyperpigmentation.
It does come with the benefit of making one's skin exceptionally clear, giving it a radiant dewy appearance. The dark side: fatigue not as heavy as Taxotere and an increased sense of nausea and vomiting. Another side effect I hadn't experienced as heavily with Taxotere is a heavy metallic taste in my mouth. When this symptom appears, while eating or not, it feels and tastes as if I'm chewing my way through a steel mill.
Because of the frequent steel feel in my mouth, I've resorted to the use of plastic cutlery. If nothing else is available, I'll use metal but I've resorted to carrying plastic cutlery. It helps to ease that taste and friction.
Well a girlfriend and I were eating at a restaurant, formerly one of my favorites. I asked the server for plastic cutlery and the server gave me a facial expression as if I'd asked her to provide me with a poop bucket for the middle of the table because the toilet was inoperable. I politely and quietly attempted to explain my dilemma, as a chemo patient I.... and she stopped short of instructing me to talk to the hand. Now this isn't some five diamond eatery. In fact it's very dine- like and would probably be rated $$ at the most. I accepted the cutlery, her disdain was reflected in my tip.
I learned a valuable lesson, again, one I seem to learn over and over. Do Not Judge. It's not my place and rarely necessary to know why someone needs or requests what they need or want. Don't judge. And while my server could have been well immersed in the lesson, I know these lessons and experiences are custom-made for me.
Yes, the girl who frowns upon the incorrect wine glass, must sometimes eat with plastic. I no longer judge your red cup when consuming wine, don't judge my plastic fork.
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