Oh well.

I went to a grocery store at lunch today to scan the aisles for otc products to fix my various chemotherapy complaints. I needed something for my hands and feet, which are cracked and painful. I needed an alcohol-free mouthwash for the sores in my mouth.

The woman who rang up my items asked: Did you find everything you need, Mr. Price?

I drove back to work, and was hailed in the parking lot by a woman whose name and position I don' t know. She told me that she hadn't known that I was sick until I started wearing a hat.

She asked me if I was going to be okay, and she asked for my prognosis.

I told her that I wasn't going to be okay, and that I was terminally ill. She gasped. I told her to be careful about asking for prognoses. I walked away mad.

She called after me, and wanted to know if she could give me a hug. I told her I was good.

Why the hell would a woman I don' t know ask me for my prognosis in a parking lot? What was I supposed to say? Should I lie, or speak in vagaries, or tell the truth? For fuck's sake. It's not fair.

It's not fair that I have cancer, and it's not fair that my cuticles look like they've been buffed with sandpaper, and it's not fair that eating and drinking is painful, and it's not fair that I'm cornered in a parking lots by well intentioned and poorly mannered dimwits.

Just a cranky day, I guess. I'll work on a better mood tomorrow.