News ... good and otherwise

The good news: My blood counts are good. The white cell count reached 6.0, up from 1.6, so I'm able to resume chemotherapy full throttle.
The not so good news (hey, kids, this was called "bad news" before the PC police took over): I shaved my mustache today. It was falling out anyway. It is the third time in 20 years my wife has seen me with a clean upper lip. The goatee probably will go next. In the next day or two, I imagine. My head is getting bald patches. Such are the joys of chemotherapy. ...
At least I've yet to experience the worst effects of chemo. Still no nausea. I have two five-hour sessions in the next two days. Hopefully I'll continue to hold up well. ...
Here's a true story I sent one of my bosses today (the boss who sent me a CARE package filled with his Mom's homemade gingerbread):
While at chemotherapy today, a rather large man in obvious discomfort was wheeled into the chemo lounge.
He was given Tylenol and another drug the name of which I was unfamiliar. He must eat, because of the meds, the nurses told him.
Would he like trail mix?
"Yuck," was his reply.
Cheez-Its? Almonds?
No and No.
An ornery man, he was.
Yet he readily accepted my offer of gingerbread.
I can't say he was real pleasant after that, but he wasn't quite as ornery.
Tomorrow, I'll take two pieces of gingerbread to therapy. One for an emergency, and one for me!