Having Adenoid Cystic Carcinoma makes one fearless

I am so mad I could chew nails. Some punk kid and his punk buddy just came into my side yard gate to try and take one of the bikes that are up next to the house. What they didn't know was, funny enough, both bikes are broken. When one tried to ride off on one of the bikes, they had to drop it, yelling, "it don't work", and started hightailing it over to the store parking lot across the street. Before they made it across the street, Lucky the dog was barking his head off, and he and I went out to the porch for a look-see. Seeing the bike in the front yard, I grabbed it and started walking it back to the side yard (remember, 'it don't work'.) One of the guys came back to pick up his bike (which looked suspiciously like the number one son's bike that was taken in broad daylight about a month ago). Throwing the bike - one-handed, I might add, so I must be over the radiation tiredness for good - I told him to keep himself and his buddy out of my yard, wishing I had found my digital camera in time to take his picture, and not caring that my face is more swollen than usual (I was hoping I was one scary witch in the porch light, if you want to know the truth. Deformities caused by cancer treatment should come in handy for something once in a while.) Naturally, he denied that he was the one that took the 'don't work' bike (probably wasn't - he might have been working on the other one, that also 'don't work'), and picked up his bike and left the same direction that the other guy had taken off. Mad just doesn't describe what I felt, and what I am still feeling. I want to mine the yard. I want to set up a web cam with a direct feed to the police station. I want to have Rambo on speed dial AND be able to join in kicking butt when he arrives. I may not have any power over this cancer taking over the rest of me, but by golly, LEAVE MY STUFF ALONE. Even the 'don't work' stuff.