The Red Penguin Perpetrator

Pajama pants have become their own character in this blog. They hold a very distinct personality and role in the story of cancer. (It's a horrible movie, somebody always dies in the end. Read the book instead.)
One's first time in the hospital is a learning time. You might show up in jeans or work pants expecting them to be comfortable enough while wanting to look pleasant for the doctor. That quickly goes out the window. A couple months in, you turn to the red penguin pajama pants. Red penguin pajama pants are a rare very fine breed of pant motif. Now, this is just a symbolic representation of some of the crazy pajamas I have seen. Red with penguins, blue with polar bears, green with fairies. Basically, we all have our whimsical representations of what we see when high. Yes, cancer patients sometimes end up in a fantastical world called ‘Land of the Morphine’. This is where we dance with our penguins, fly with our fairies, and run with our polar bears. Our pajamas pants merely represent our personality when high. I see penguins, I don’t know why, but I like it. They seem like very happy creatures, just a-slipping and a-sliding every damn where they please.
By a month into your chemo, you will lose any fantasy like thought of maintaining any kind of respectful, non-embarrassing, appearance for your doctor. It will more than likely come to the new found conclusion that one should become friends with a theory I would like to call….. Screw it.
It will go like this: The doctor will walk in. If you are feeling particularly friendly you will remember to make sure all your clothes are on or the sheet is at least pulled up. No guarantees. Usually you will greet them by their first name, or any of the following worthy substitutions: dude, man, doc, homeboy.... Or if you are me you will tell them that to do to you what they want to do is the kind of thing that they usually would need to buy you dinner for first. They will laugh, smile, sneer, or not make any kind of face what so ever and go right past the dirty comment. You are past the stage of nodding or even fully listening to what they say. It does not matter anyways, they are just repetitive and will do with you what they damn well please anyways…. (That’s what she said!)
On a good day, they will send you home. If feeling particularly friendly, they will say you can go home now, get out of this horrible place, and put on real pants. However, little do they know that going home does not signify the transference of pajama pants to real pants. Most likely pajama pants have become the real pants. This leads my dad to the point that he is going to have to be careful walking with me into the grocery story. He was pretty sure at one point grocery security would tackle me thinking I was either crazy and would rob them in my pajama pants, or I had enough room in my big stretchy pajama pants to stuff a bunch of cans and frozen delicacies to take home.
I am pretty sure it would go like this when watching the evening news that night:
“Hi, my name is Sandra Newsworthy, and I am here with your 8 o’ clock round up of the day’s events. A local woman gave birthday to nine puppies today; I hear the husband was a mutt. The local hair salon had a grand reopening after doing construction for three months and really weaved up the place; the whole event was a big to do! (Get it… to do… like hair-do…. She would say very proud of her pun.) And just this morning, Publix was in shock after a women made away with two frozen turkeys, three cans of green beans, and one yam. The police have put together a profile for the women they are looking for: Bald, no eyebrows, pale, a little bruised up, crazy eyes, and a big pair of red penguin pajama pants. They are calling her The Red Penguin Perpetrator. Be aware.