“Sometimes it’s best to let you blow over like a storm.”
—
- The Badger (aka BF)
Stunningly accurate (and timely) assessment of me! Specifically, my tiny little bouts of (generally misdirected) rage.
August 2011
17 posts
FU, Cancer Patients! →
fightcolorectalcancer.org
Seriously? Had I the energy, I’d be writing my pharma-industry rant now. Since I don’t, I will gulp down eight pills a day in silent choky protest.
Kate Spencer: What Steve Jobs Means To Me: A Kinda Self-Absorbed Essay About Cancer →
katespencer.tumblr.com
Appropriating Kate’s well-written post about truly weird feelings.
For some reason, my mom (herself trudging through recurrent colon cancer) keeps comparing me to Michael Douglas. Michael Douglas has throat cancer; I have rectal cancer. Two different ends of the spectrum, so to speak. But from her point of view, both he and I are having chemo and radiation at the same time. And he didn’t end up needing surgery. So maybe, I won’t. Weird, mom-generated, cancer-related logic. I can relate.
I used to have a lot of fantasies during the eight months my mom battled pancreatic cancer, which we knew was terminal when she was diagnosed. They all involved her living, of course. Whether it was via a miracle, a juice diet, meditation, laser surgery, a medical trial, or chemo that no one had…
Email from Abroad (well, from a British gentleman with a sense of humour)
(edited for maximum giggles.)
Madam: But only 2 days of radiation left! hooray!
Sir: Hooray indeed! What happens after that?
Madam: After that I wait four weeks, then get a CAT scan to determine what’s going on internally. Then, I find the greatest butt surgeon in the world. Hopefully I’ll bounce back and feel a bit stronger soon.
Sir: I nearly said ‘so there is light at the end of the tunnel…’
But…um..so the end is in sight…nope that doesn’t work either…
God, everything sounds wrong now, even ‘its onwards and upwards from here’…
Madam: Hee hee! Can I use these in my blog?
Sir: I would be flattered and honoured!
(Intercontinental giggling ensues! Extra ‘u’s abounds!)
It's the simple things.
As the sun rises and my painkiller and anxiety-ridden mind refuses to calm itself, as I ignore the pain of sitting, as I contemplate my life and all it entails, I keep returning to a safe place…a familiar place…focusing on what I really need, deep down inside, to make me complete and content.
Simply, this.
Bacon egg and cheese on a roll.
Strips of chewy, non-artisanal bacon, two hastily blended eggs seared on a flattop grill, slapped on the finest processed Land o Lakes American cheese with the perfect melting temperature, slid effortlessly and oily onto a soft seeded Kaiser roll, wrapped in foil, the steam-softened bun pressing the proteins together into a warm soft chewy mass.
Sometimes it’s just that easy.
And, Odessa delivers.
Life, my friends, can be good. Learn to appreciate the simple, greasy things.
Comparing 3 Actual, Serious, Not Funny Diseases by Funniness
Rectal cancer > colon cancer
Bulimia > Anorexia
Spinal Bifida > Cerebral Palsy
Genital Herpes > AIDS
I go back and forth on bulimia/anorexia. Agreed about the others.
Stuff I like
In no particular order, or for no particular reason, here’s a non-exclusive list of things I like. (Why am I writing this? I need to fill some space. I need to think of nice things. And, if I sleep, I will have more freaky dreams about Bobby Flay and cake.)
- Whiskey-based cocktails
- Shooting hoops
- Crocheting
- Baseball
- Fresh ripe tomatoes
- Any kind of blue cheese
- Leather boots
- Chatting with toddlers
- Lists
- Cloudy, breezy days
- Polished toenails
- Neatly arched eyebrows
- Ocean beaches
- Kayaking
- Inexpensive jewelry
- Project Runway
- Dumb computer solitaire games
- Long or short skirts
- Coffee
- Multiples of 5
There are many blog posts in my head....
but right now, I’m just darn tired.
Sorry for the lack of excitement and cancery-wit.
Would you like freshly ground pepper with that?
So, my toilet tank and environs are covered with various and assorted creams, lotions, salves, balms, rinses, wipes and elixirs guarantees to keep my “body”* less miserable during this scorched-earth phase of treatment.
Do they work? A little.
My favorite is the homeopathic lady-parts gel made with olive oil and rosemary, making my womanly space** feel a bit like bread-dipping accoutrements at a semi-decent Italian establishment.
*the parts I’m too ladylike to mention, including my butt.
**I stole that from Furonda! ANTM!
I'm ranting!
Ah, coffee and steroids. This isn’t exactly a cancery post, but it mentions my take on life. Thought it would amuse y’all.
