Tacos.

 I feel like it’s time to lighten the mood here. It’s time for a good, old fashioned story time. Plus I just want this memory to have a permanent spot on my feed. Let’s have some real talk: tacos. You might've already seen the video simply because I thought it was pure gold, but in case you haven't, let me tell you about the time I woke up from anesthesia sobbing over Taco Bell. 

The last thing I can remember semi clearly about my biopsy surgery is the nurses telling me I needed to scooch. I'm not sure if I scooched or not, but they kept telling me to scooch. I didn't want to, I was done scooching. Next thing I know, I'm waking up. 

I'm waking up and I'm crying. There are tears streaming down my face. The nurse is swarming me asking if I'm in pain. Dr. True is there asking if I want more pain medicine. The nurse comes back and asks if I'm feeling okay, just wanted to double check I wasn't in too much pain. I'm unsure how much time passed between first gaining consciousness and each time they asked me if I was okay, it felt like hours but also seconds. However, I do know that I didn't need medicine, I was tired of them asking me if I was okay, and I had no idea for the life of me how to explain to these wonderful humans the reason I was sobbing was because of a dream I had about Taco Bell. 

...There's so much going on, it's absolute chaos. All I know is I really, really wanted tacos from Taco Bell. (It's been at least three years since I've eaten at a Taco Bell. I don't eat there, I don't like it. I have no idea where this came from.) I think I'm at home and I have friends over, we ask Momma Shoaf to grab us some tacos from Taco Bell. She's there and back in a flash. She walks into the kitchen with a plastic Walmart sack absolutely full of tacos from Taco Bell. She then dumps them all over the counter and my friends are excited. We got exactly what we wanted: tacos. I, however, am not as enthused. I asked mom what kind of tacos she got for us. Her reply, "Classic tacos." ... the AUDACITY. What's a classic taco? I asked and I asked. I refused to let my friends eat or unwrap any of these tacos until we knew what kind of taco a "Classic Taco" was. The more I asked, the more frustrated I got. Momma Shoaf used the word classic, as in "classic taco" an ungodly amount of times. Yet, she continued to refuse to tell me. 

Then I was awake. Well, not awake awake, but I was groggy. Groggy and crying over not knowing what a classic taco is. 

Hard or soft shell? Beef or chicken? We aren't sure. We might never know. 

Fast forward two weeks and I had a follow-up appointment with Dr. True to look at the incision and discuss port placement surgery. The appointment went well, and as we were finishing up, I happen to look down at his socks. And guess what? He's wearing socks with tacos on them. Of course, I immediately complimented him on them because it was a total full circle moment for me. It completed the classic taco saga in the best way. 

On another good note, last night was the first night I went without back pain (or any discomfort in general) in almost six months. In fact, I didn't even realize it didn't hurt until someone asked me about it. I was blissfully unaware of my no pain evening until then, and I continued in my bliss sleeping throughout the night with no issues. I actually cried about it. It just felt really good. Here is to hoping that chemo is working and it's working well, even after just one treatment. Thank You, Lord Jesus.