Same old shtick

The risky thing about writing a blog based on real life is that life sometimes hits a dull patch.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. After all of the drama I've seen over the past six months, there's something comforting about sitting down to write and realizing that nothing blog-worthy has happened to me in the previous 24 hours.

And I think I'm in for a prolonged dry spell.

My next medical appointment with someone on my cancer team is a good three weeks away, and the appointment after that isn't till the end of June.

I haven't had an accident in my bed sheets for months, and I think I've exhausted the slapstick potential for stories about my trach and G-tube.

I don't have a boyfriend to write about, and I don't feel especially boyfriendable, though I can see how a guy who can't talk back or steal French fries off your plate would be a dream spouse to many guys.

My job doesn't produce scintillating blog fodder, thank God, because blogging about my job only could lead to an uncomfortable conversation in the HR department.

I don't have any cute animal companions to tell you about, unless you count the creepy critters I sometimes spot scurrying across the bathtub.

So please bear with me during these dry patches between doctor's appointments and milestones in my recovery.

Things may get a tad boring but don't abandon ship.