I wheeled my cart to the register, placed a rubber baby buggy bumper between my crap and the crap of the lady in front of me. I caught her just as she was getting her change, two customers in front of me was my gastroenterologist.
She looked frazzled and tired. My first instinct was to call out her name and say hello. Tell her thanks again for saving my butt.
But I didn't. At first I told myself that it was because she looked so tired and I didn't want to bug her. Now I think it's because in order to make sense of this all, I can't have my cancer world and my food shopping world collide. The mundane task of buying milk, limes and great northern beans wouldn't play nicely with the world of laxatives and ass-cameras.