Paula W. Millet,  Author

Some days I feel like a donkey in the Kentucky Derby. Wish I could take credit for that catchy little slogan, but I can’t. I stole it from a coffee mug in one of those cute, overpriced gift shops. But regardless of the source, it’s true for most of us. We all have our bad days. And sometimes, those days can seem never-ending. On my recent trip to the infusion center for post-chemo blood work, I had a new nurse. I immediately liked her. She seemed genuinely happy to meet me an

I could use a lower facelift, maybe a couple of Juvederm injections. I’ve got my father’s prominent sagging jowls, and look a lot his older sister from a certain angle. Let’s face it: heredity and gravity are powerful when working in tandem. And although I am pleased to still have all of my teeth at my age, I can’t help but fixate on the gap that might have made me popular in Chaucer’s day, but now, just means I lacked orthodontia in my younger years. I readily admit that I c

In all probability, I will never get to visit Paris. The two C’s, cancer and covid, have deferred that dream, putting it at the very bottom of my bucket list, along with so many other plans. Like most people, I thought of time as an endless commodity, with days easily turning into weeks and months into years. I always imagined that tomorrow was ready and waiting for whatever adventure I might have concocted, and so I lived without a sense of urgency. I think that our human n

Cancer treatment is a bit like childbirth. When it is all over, you forget the pain it took to get through it. I suppose both are a celebration of life, right? So I am afraid that I forgot the details of the chemo experience after having a respite of a year and a half. Call it selective amnesia. And getting a different cocktail this time means new surprises. I hadn’t expected the huge IV bag of steroids given as premeds. The nurses always laugh at my description of getting B