14 posts tagged “bullshit”
no, it can't.
and fuck you (press and popular culture) for suggesting that such a question is even worthy of asking. seriously? so when ted kennedy dies (as expected) within the next couple of years, will your headlines be
"oh, as it turns out, ted kennedy is a big pussy..."?
i realize that optimism is firmly imbedded in some people's brains as a way to cope with traumatic life events, but cancer doesn't give a fuck about your positive attitude. really. it's a cell-divison thing gone awry that has absolutely zero connection to one's outlook or tenacity. lots of really brave, amazing people die every single minute of cancer. why is that so hard to understand?
there is also the question of prayer. a lot of people told me that they were praying for me during my cancer treatment. that's a very nice sentiment, and i really appreciate people thinking kind thoughts. no one wants people to think "oh, that bitch has cancer? hope she dies a long horrible death."
but -- it's sorta awkward when you're an atheist and have absolutely no patience or appreciation for the delusional beliefs about an invisible man in the sky encouraging the chemo to work. if i do die of cancer, then i wonder if all the people who prayed for me will question their faith -- "oh, i didn't pray hard enough." that makes me feel bad.
of course, when this has played out in front of me with other people, i hear the "well, it must have been god's will.." (regarding the long horrible painful death...) if that's the case, WHY DID YOU EXPEND THE ENERGY TO PRAY AT ALL? i will never understand theism.
as per usual, the onion provides much better analysis of this phenomena than i can:
http://www.theonion.com/content/node/29585
greetings!
i haven't been asleep in about 36 hours. so here's the deal. got to participate in my very first abdomen ultrasound today! at 7am.
yes, so because i was worried i'd oversleep -- i decided not to sleep at all. because when you're lying on your side while a 22 year old very sweet radiology tech glides a magic wand all over your fat distended belly, wondering if they are seeing tumors the size of golfballs bouncing around in the empty cavity where your womb once was -- it's important to be as exhausted and incoherent as possible. (also important to drive through the fog with no sleep).
this whole deal is really about me being a hypochondriac pussy, really, but i kinda feel like i'm entitled.
i thought the whole "psychology of survivorship" angle was bullshit, but now i think i know what they're trying to diagnose us with:
it's as though every movement today was a repeat of every movement that i made back on oct. 5 2006. even before i got to the imaging center, i had pretty much accepted that i had cancer. even after the nurse practitioner condescendingly told me that there was no reason to cry -- that cancer "isn't that big." um. yeah. i just knew. like you know you have to pee. i wasn't trying to be melodramatic, but it just wasn't very surprising when the results came in.
so i literally felt like a ghost today. i had that same feeling, deep in the pit of my stomach, that i've got bad news. i try to talk myself out of it - "this is just routine" or whatever. but it was like i was on auto-pilot. it was like i was completely numb. i don't even know how the fuck i got home.
the sun was still coming up.
so you really can make yourself completely insane(r) living like this. i'm having an endless dialogue inside my head:
VOICE 1 (AKA "STOP BEING A FUCKING PUSSY"): you're fat and you have high cholesterol so if ANYTHING this is so not a big deal and so your own fucking fault.
VOICE 2 (AKA "YOU'RE DYING"):....well, maybe she saw a buncha little tumors but couldn’t let on...
VOICE 1: what the fuck is your problem? why do you think the fucking world revolves around you and your stupid cancer? there is nothing wrong with you! you're annoying everyone!"
VOICE 2: if you get bad news, you have to figure out how to tell your mom, dad, boss, etc. what if you die before your 90-something grandpa?
VOICE 1:SHUT THE FUCK UP, bitch. you are not dying. you're totally overreacting. you're a fucking drama queen. knock that shit off.
VOICE 2: i'm just being realistic, see. you have to be prepared for the worst. i'm not trying to play a game inside your head.
VOICE 1: The fuck you are.
VOICE 2: I think you should blog about your inner demons so that after you die, people can read this and think you were really really deep and existential.
VOICE 1: Take your fucking seroquel, turn the computer off, and go to fucking bed.
the amazing part of this is that it is one in a collectible SERIES. you sign up and they just keep coming.
note that this amazingly nauseating collection indicates that a "portion" of the proceeds will be "donated to help find a cure for breast cancer." i'd be interested in knowing exactly how much the portion is, and who gets the money. as per usual, this info is not provided.
my great great great grandmother died of breast cancer in 1872. i wonder if she dressed like this in her last few days on the planet.
think before you fucking pink
"Can getting cancer make you happy?"
http://www.thecancerblog.com/2007/08/18/thought-for-the-day-a-silver-lining-in-every-cloud/
am i the only one who thinks this is just fucked up?
as noted in yesterday's post, my belly button (one of the incision sites for my ovariohysterectomy) is infected. my surgery was JUNE 12, aka 6 weeks ago.
graphic information follows:
my bellybutton is red, inflamed, and full of pus. there are red streaks branching out from my bellybutton. i am in pain and can't wear anything except very droopy sweatpants.
so i made an appointment with my friendly neighborhood family practice clinic, hoping some antibiotics would do the trick. i saw a nurse practitioner about an hour ago, and she took a look and announced the following:
1. my incision site in the navel is indeed infected and festering
2. it is so infected that she wanted to take a culture and see exactly what we're looking at here
3. there is still a visible suture in my navel.
4. the other two incision sites also have visible sutures.
5. if dissolvable sutures were used in my surgery (6 weeks ago), the should have dissolved by now.
6. these do not look like dissolvable sutures. thus, i have rotten strings in all 3 incision sites.
7. i need to see my (apparently incompetent) surgeon immediately.
i have an appointment to see said surgeon in 1.5 hours. i am hoping that i don't do her physical harm. see june 26 entry for more details about the joy of my ovariohysterectomy.
if she indeed left non-dissolvable sutures in my abdomen (and i even had a follow-up with her on july 2 to ensure that everything was okay) -- i am going to throw a fully justified temper tantrum in her office.
i just want my fucking body back. is that too much to ask?
i bought some of these latex finger condoms at walgreens tonight. i am wearing them while i type. so far i like them better than bandaids for my nailless fingers. but now my fingers do look kinda like small penises.
first of all, surfing the net for post-mastectomy products when you're 34 is decidedly depressing. the products are clearly marketed toward women in their 60s (the median age for breast cancer patients is 65). so even the models are grandmas. sets the scene for feeling *very* sexy...
but i thought i would share with my 3 readers my very favorite post-mastectomy bra/swimwear product names, as they really warm the heart....
- scarlet discrete
- trulife
- celebration bra
- live it up
- still you
- elegant contours
- embrace bra
- feel-so-good bra
