And Today's SIde Effect Is......

I, am a delicate flower.

If I use a certain hair coloring product that shall remain nameless (only because I cannot for the life of me remember what it's called), my left eye swells up like I went fifteen rounds with the champ, then my right middle finger (which just makes it easier for Tim to see when I flip him off), then my left leg and finally the bottom of my right foot.  So, for one week, I am basically the Elephant Man in drag.

A swig of NyQuil makes me want to party like Lindsay Lohan after a vat of Vodka Red Bulls,   Benadryl makes me jumpier than Rush Limbaugh in a roomful of democrats with no door, and Nair actually leaves the hair, but removes the skin (which I unfortunately learned just in time for my  honeymoon--yeah, honeymoon, woo hoo.  Tim is one lucky man.)

So it should not have been a surprise when I morphed into a cross between the bride of Frankenstein and, well, Frankenstein what with all the drugs that have been pumped into my system lately.

First up: The Rash From Hell.

Day one after the operation I had what looked like a sunburn on my right arm.  By day two, the doctors all looked at me like I was boarding the Titanic with my steerage ticket clutched firmly in my rashy little hand.

Hint: If doctors start talking about something called Stephen Johnson's disease, run, because you are just one blister away from doing guest appearances on Today, Good Morning America, The View and Dr. Oz, where  you can be a true inspiration to all the other poor schmucks whose skin is peeling off faster than a g-string at a strip club.

From there, I broke out in rashes over the next month from every cream, lotion, potion, pill, drink of water, and breath of air that I took.  I was starting to make the "boy in the plastic bubble" (a John Travolta movie or Seinfeld episode depending on your age) look like the cover model on Health and Fitness magazine.

Next:  A Pufferfish Imitation

My face decided to join the party and swelled up from the chemo (?) landing me in the ER for three hours of just about the most fun you can possibly have outside of a lobotomy.  The good news is that after testing, poking and prodding me like I was the first alien to land in Area 51,  they informed me I would probably survive and sent me home with Benadryl.  Benadryl??? Really???  I look like Marlon Brando in The Godfather, and you are giving me Benadryl?????  Um, I don't have a medical degree, but I'm pretty sure I could have come up with that one on my own.

And finally:  A Life Threatening Reaction (maybe)

To complete the trifecta of side effects,  (and for my next trick, watch me pull another rash out of my hat!) my legs rashed up. And down.  And all around. 

Only it wasn't a rash.  Oh no. Not something as simple as that for me.  The chemo had apparently attacked my blood vessels and broken each and every one.  Oh goody, a second chance to make the medical books.  Stephen Johnson watch out!  I am about to have something much more impressive than peeling skin named after me. Once I get on the talk show circuits, they won't even remember your name!!! Ha!

And so all of this has led me to make a decision:  I am going to wrap myself in bubble wrap and sit in the corner of a padded room for the next few months.