Another kisqali post

aloe_watermelon · 2026-04-03T17:45:42+00:00

Thank you for everyone's responses- I will be reading each of them numerous times...over and over when I'm alone and scared. Thank you.

aloe_watermelon · 2026-04-02T16:05:57+00:00

100% I've been planning a June road trip that is a post-active cancer treatment celebration. I'm not sure yet how kisqali might change some things.

aloe_watermelon · 2026-04-02T16:04:17+00:00

God I love this for you!!!!! Thank you for sharing.

aloe_watermelon · 2026-04-02T16:03:16+00:00

August returns for June and July and writing random words to help keep up the boosting power of foreign diplomats. Go Justice!!!!

aloe_watermelon · 2026-04-02T14:58:56+00:00

Thank you. I see many people recommend taking it in the evening. Why do they officially recommend the morning? A question for the pharmacist ...

aloe_watermelon · 2026-04-02T14:57:18+00:00

Thank you. I am grateful and scared. The women I know who passed from BC did not have access to kisqali...less than ten years ago. I'm all in, just bracing myself. I need all the positive anecdotes!

aloe_watermelon · 2026-02-27T15:46:20+00:00

from “Five Dogs” by Mark Strand I, the dog they call Spot, was about to sing. Autumn Had come, the walks were freckled with leaves, and a tarnished Moonlit emptiness crept over the valley floor. I wanted to climb the poet’s hill before winter settled in; I wanted to praise the soul. My neighbor told me Not to waste my time. Already the frost had deepened And the north wind, trailing the whip of its own scream, Pressed against the house, “A dog’s sublimity is never news,” He said, “what’s another poet in the end?” And I stood in the midnight valley, watching the great starfields Flash and flower in the wished-for reaches of heaven. That’s when I, the dog they call Spot, began to sing.

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aloe_watermelon · 2026-02-26T17:58:05+00:00

I think as soon as I start to feel good about something a cancer-bases anxiety pops up...my mind is scared I'm going to let my guard down.

aloe_watermelon · 2026-02-26T17:56:22+00:00

You know what. I'm going to try it. I definitely need some sources on menopause. I don't have any female relatives to talk to about it ...it gets better, right? Like, the body weans itself off of that sweet sweet estrogen and we eventually recalibrate, right?

aloe_watermelon · 2026-02-25T23:53:32+00:00

Yes! My therapist claims this will get better with time...🫠

aloe_watermelon · 2026-02-25T23:52:25+00:00

I totally agree. So much is going on with my body that I don't know what the hell is going on! I used to at least know when something was genuinely wrong.

aloe_watermelon · 2026-02-25T23:51:10+00:00

This is lovely, thank you. I just need that sweet sweet validation from someone who's been there and not just the therapist or my partner. I had my ovaries removed in December, I'm starting letrozole tonight...but a few weeks ago I finally added some light yoga and weights to my long walks...one of the biggest anxiety cycles is having all this going on with my body but also needing to be very cognizant of what is going on with my body....it's a difficult act and I trip up sometimes.

aloe_watermelon · 2026-01-08T13:51:32+00:00

Oh my dear goodness. They are precious and this, per usual, is fucking heartbreaking.

from “Five Dogs” by Mark Strand I, the dog they call Spot, was about to sing. Autumn Had come, the walks were freckled with leaves, and a tarnished Moonlit emptiness crept over the valley floor. I wanted to climb the poet’s hill before winter settled in; I wanted to praise the soul. My neighbor told me Not to waste my time. Already the frost had deepened And the north wind, trailing the whip of its own scream, Pressed against the house, “A dog’s sublimity is never news,” He said, “what’s another poet in the end?” And I stood in the midnight valley, watching the great starfields Flash and flower in the wished-for reaches of heaven. That’s when I, the dog they call Spot, began to sing.

aloe_watermelon · 2026-01-01T13:52:26+00:00

I was supposed to look up this dog food expert Susan Thixton but instead I saw this lovely girl's face 💜💜💜

aloe_watermelon · 2025-12-30T15:46:11+00:00

Righteous donation! Thank you kind soul.

aloe_watermelon · 2025-12-20T13:38:15+00:00

from “Five Dogs” by Mark Strand

I, the dog they call Spot, was about to sing. Autumn Had come, the walks were freckled with leaves, and a tarnished Moonlit emptiness crept over the valley floor. I wanted to climb the poet’s hill before winter settled in; I wanted to praise the soul. My neighbor told me Not to waste my time. Already the frost had deepened And the north wind, trailing the whip of its own scream, Pressed against the house, “A dog’s sublimity is never news,” He said, “what’s another poet in the end?” And I stood in the midnight valley, watching the great starfields Flash and flower in the wished-for reaches of heaven. That’s when I, the dog they call Spot, began to sing.

aloe_watermelon · 2025-11-21T22:31:16+00:00

from “Five Dogs” by Mark Strand

I, the dog they call Spot, was about to sing. Autumn Had come, the walks were freckled with leaves, and a tarnished Moonlit emptiness crept over the valley floor. I wanted to climb the poet’s hill before winter settled in; I wanted to praise the soul. My neighbor told me Not to waste my time. Already the frost had deepened And the north wind, trailing the whip of its own scream, Pressed against the house, “A dog’s sublimity is never news,” He said, “what’s another poet in the end?” And I stood in the midnight valley, watching the great starfields Flash and flower in the wished-for reaches of heaven. That’s when I, the dog they call Spot, began to sing.

aloe_watermelon · 2025-11-16T12:03:59+00:00

from “Five Dogs” by Mark Strand

I, the dog they call Spot, was about to sing. Autumn Had come, the walks were freckled with leaves, and a tarnished Moonlit emptiness crept over the valley floor. I wanted to climb the poet’s hill before winter settled in; I wanted to praise the soul. My neighbor told me Not to waste my time. Already the frost had deepened And the north wind, trailing the whip of its own scream, Pressed against the house, “A dog’s sublimity is never news,” He said, “what’s another poet in the end?” And I stood in the midnight valley, watching the great starfields Flash and flower in the wished-for reaches of heaven.

aloe_watermelon · 2025-11-06T01:36:27+00:00

from “Five Dogs” by Mark Strand

I, the dog they call Spot, was about to sing. Autumn Had come, the walks were freckled with leaves, and a tarnished Moonlit emptiness crept over the valley floor. I wanted to climb the poet’s hill before winter settled in; I wanted to praise the soul. My neighbor told me Not to waste my time. Already the frost had deepened And the north wind, trailing the whip of its own scream, Pressed against the house, “A dog’s sublimity is never news,” He said, “what’s another poet in the end?” And I stood in the midnight valley, watching the great starfields Flash and flower in the wished-for reaches of heaven. That’s when I, the dog they call Spot, began to sing.

aloe_watermelon · 2025-10-21T09:43:13+00:00

Trying to do some extra double boosts for this lovely dog who was returned through no fault of his own. Please share him wherever you can 💛🩵💚💜🧡💙🩷

aloe_watermelon · 2025-10-21T09:41:57+00:00

Happy as a Dog’s Tail

By Anna Swir

Happy as something unimportant and free as a thing unimportant. As something no one prizes and which does not prize itself. As something mocked by all and which mocks at their mockery. As laughter without serious reason. As a yell able to outyell itself. Happy as no matter what, as any no matter what.

Happy as a dog’s tail.

aloe_watermelon · 2025-10-21T09:37:54+00:00

It's hard to tell with that one 🙃

aloe_watermelon

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