Tonight I'm thinking, 'death.'
It is not the variety of death where angels are singing and I'm coming up to talk to the big 'kahuna' and he's pretty pleased with what I've done and what I've become.
In the real world, however, there are some practical things that also must be taken care of that are of a more 'macabe' nature.
If you've ever had cancer or been around someone with cancer, you know what I mean.
The question of the day is, "What do you do with the body?"
There are a few options available and they mostly include cremation or burial.
I could SO NOT imagine being buried in the ground. It has always given me the biggest shutters late at night when I was first diagnosed.
I do not want ANYONE to see me after I have been declared dead on the table and the forms have been signed and I'm getting colder by the minute. :)
Without a doubt, someone who didn't like me much will be put in charge of the 'clothing' I 'might' be seen in, laying there in that damn box with my arms folded over me. (I secretly NEVER lay that way in bed ever since I was diagnosed. Call me a freak but I am so serious. If I wake up and I'm laying like that, I IMMEDIATELY turn over....)
Anyways, back to the story at hand.....
I wake up sweating thinking that someone would bury me in a dress. Lavendar and up to the damn neck is what I would put my money on.
My hair would probably be blown straight and I would resemble Stephanie Powers. The real me would have the 'she hasn't brushed her curly hair in a week and oh yeah, she's irish' kinda look but I cannot see that happening.
I sat down recently and made a will to 'prevent' from happening what I've described about.
I spelled out what should be done and when. (I did the 'go big or go home' thing again and did a living will as well as one for when I'm 'DONE'. hahaha)
Cremation is in my future and its written in ink as of most recently.
There will also NEVER come a day where I am on life-support obviously losing the battle I'd vowed so hard to fight.
Sometimes we lose the battles we choose to fight. It does NOT make us quitters though. We all have our time when we know we are 'done'. We've fought the fight and we fought it hard but the time has come. (.....the walrus said...C.S. Lewis.....I could not resist)
An old wives tale says that 'if you write your will, your days are numbered.'
Who cares really?
Arn't all of our days numbered really anyways?
Don't I have a 'wee bit' of an advantage knowing that I might die from cancer so I get a chance to do it right the 'first' time?
We all shy away from talking about death as if it were some sort of 'taboo' and yet, we will ALL go through it.
I would much rather just be thrown out of the back of a 'ford f350' into a country field where the coyotes would not be hungry for a few days.
Screw having to pay for someone to burn me. EWWWW....
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
Plates come in different sizes
We all carry plates around with our 'stuff.'
Some of us carry pretty small plates cause we choose to either not deal with a lot of stuff or else we neglect a whole bunch of stuff we should be dealing with.
My plate would be described as 'over-flowing' but would be described with a bunch more words more eloquent than mine.
I choose it to be so and sometimes I wonder why we each choose the 'level' of how much 'crap' we keep on our plates?
Why is it that some of us coast through our lives having hardly been dented at all while others get whacked time and time again?
University taught me statistics and I propose the following hypothesis.
If you choose to take a chance at say 10 things, you might succeed or fail at say 20% of them.
If you are a 'go big or go home' chick like me, the 10 things would probably go up the ladder, to say 100 things and then I'm dealing with a whole 'boat-load', more than the chick having only done 10 things, right? :)
The chances of you're succeeding at pretty much anything you do is greatly increased by at least trying to get there.
Sometimes though, late at night, I lay in bed and I'm thinking.
1. I showered for 40 minutes after I fell into the pig-pen. Yup, head first. Pick me for the prize please and make it gold.
2. I spent 2 FREAKING HOURS outside today feeding animals and cleaning stalls and getting hay and straw and pineapple cause the pigs taste way better if you feed them this 3 weeks before the slaughter the pain in the asses. :)
3. I planted almost 150 pansies in my front beds. Yes indeed, pro to having a nice yard is having your hubby own a fencing/landscaping company. Negative is him bringing home 150 pansies to plant in the front beds and a truck-load of perennials. Of course, he does not look after all this crap. :)
4. I can honestly say that I own 4 different types of ducks who currently are having babies in a pond which is about 40 feet from my balcony! How freaking cool is that.
The geese are turning into nasty bastards with having eggs. Holy. !!! I had to hit one with a bucket the other day and its only about 1/3 of it's full size yet. Might have to do something about that.
5. Out of 3 cows we were going to get and cycle through the farm for meat, we've sadly become quite attached to 2 of them and they will no longer get killed. :) I've named mine 'Trouble' and Freddy named his 'Bruno' and we've decided we really 'suck' at farming.
6. I'm getting more chickens. Screw those fancy silkies that didn't like the iron in my water. I'm instead, going to buy some guaranteed to lay 'slutty' ones who will drop eggs quite regularily and they only cost 3 bucks.
7. We're building a koi fish pond attached to the wall of the house with these cool alan-block things. (landscaping dude for sweetie thing again)
I'm secretly starting a 20 gallon tank with some koi in it this weekend on the deck of course. :) Will put them in damn healthy once Freddy gets the pond done.
8. Freddy's birthday is coming soon. I'm doing a big pig-roast thing for it...hahahah
Like seriously, i'm gonna get a buddy over her to use the excavator when Fred is at work. We need a 4'x4' hole and you need sand and charcoal and shit-loads of beer. :)
9. We're getting 4 more cows. We've decided to get the holstein/angus crosses cause they are black and white and we don't seem to like those ones much. Our 2 'keepers' are the jersey/angus crosses. We might even be able to start making money for this farm venture thing.
10. 'Loco', our adult male ostrich is ramming the females into the walls cause he's horny and his legs are as red as bright lipstick.
It's actually quite funny to watch at 7am. Poor females.
Nature is what it is.
Now back to plates.
My plate is so 'over-filling' that sometimes it is quite almost 'over-whelming.'
I am so beyond the plate thing. I've now moved up to 'platters' and they are big ones at that.
University also taught me that people with plates so full that they can hardly keep up do it for a variety of reasons.
Some try and fill their days to the 'brim', to stop themselves from taking a breath and actually thinking of some wrong we thought about, but chose to file away for 'another' day.
There is variety of people though, who embrace each day for what it is and it is really only 'one' damn day.
If you only had one day, wouldn't you fill it up to the absolute maximum? You're not gonna have tomorrow. Why wouldn't you want to do it all today? Absolutely everything that you ever wanted to do.
I chose to live my life like this a long time ago, even before my cancer.
Cancer changed my plate size but not in the way that you'd imagined.
It took away so many things that I thought that I cared about and also brought fore-front a lot of things that I didn't give enough attention to.
'It evened out my life' if that makes any sense at all.
I don't ever anymore lay in bed at night making dealings with myself. I never say that I'll stop drinking red wine if my CT scan comes back clear.
I'm so beyond that now.
I still drink my red wine and I no long make deals with my body cause it's defied me already and in a big way.
Take nothing for granted.
Fill your plate AS MUCH as you can and 'pig-out' today and tomorrow and the next day.
Life is really sweet if you take it one day at a time.
after-note:
Tonight, I sat down for the first time and read my entries over the last 2 years. I am touched by all of the comments although I never responded and for that I am sorry.
This blog was initially meant to be a personal journal of my cancer experience and it turned out to be something way more than that.
It has evolved into my 'life journey' and its been quite the damn ride.
If I ever live to be an old grand-ma swinging in a chair, I will be 'exactly' how I'd hoped to be when I was a young kid with some foresight.
Why would anyone ever want a small plate?
Some of us carry pretty small plates cause we choose to either not deal with a lot of stuff or else we neglect a whole bunch of stuff we should be dealing with.
My plate would be described as 'over-flowing' but would be described with a bunch more words more eloquent than mine.
I choose it to be so and sometimes I wonder why we each choose the 'level' of how much 'crap' we keep on our plates?
Why is it that some of us coast through our lives having hardly been dented at all while others get whacked time and time again?
University taught me statistics and I propose the following hypothesis.
If you choose to take a chance at say 10 things, you might succeed or fail at say 20% of them.
If you are a 'go big or go home' chick like me, the 10 things would probably go up the ladder, to say 100 things and then I'm dealing with a whole 'boat-load', more than the chick having only done 10 things, right? :)
The chances of you're succeeding at pretty much anything you do is greatly increased by at least trying to get there.
Sometimes though, late at night, I lay in bed and I'm thinking.
1. I showered for 40 minutes after I fell into the pig-pen. Yup, head first. Pick me for the prize please and make it gold.
2. I spent 2 FREAKING HOURS outside today feeding animals and cleaning stalls and getting hay and straw and pineapple cause the pigs taste way better if you feed them this 3 weeks before the slaughter the pain in the asses. :)
3. I planted almost 150 pansies in my front beds. Yes indeed, pro to having a nice yard is having your hubby own a fencing/landscaping company. Negative is him bringing home 150 pansies to plant in the front beds and a truck-load of perennials. Of course, he does not look after all this crap. :)
4. I can honestly say that I own 4 different types of ducks who currently are having babies in a pond which is about 40 feet from my balcony! How freaking cool is that.
The geese are turning into nasty bastards with having eggs. Holy. !!! I had to hit one with a bucket the other day and its only about 1/3 of it's full size yet. Might have to do something about that.
5. Out of 3 cows we were going to get and cycle through the farm for meat, we've sadly become quite attached to 2 of them and they will no longer get killed. :) I've named mine 'Trouble' and Freddy named his 'Bruno' and we've decided we really 'suck' at farming.
6. I'm getting more chickens. Screw those fancy silkies that didn't like the iron in my water. I'm instead, going to buy some guaranteed to lay 'slutty' ones who will drop eggs quite regularily and they only cost 3 bucks.
7. We're building a koi fish pond attached to the wall of the house with these cool alan-block things. (landscaping dude for sweetie thing again)
I'm secretly starting a 20 gallon tank with some koi in it this weekend on the deck of course. :) Will put them in damn healthy once Freddy gets the pond done.
8. Freddy's birthday is coming soon. I'm doing a big pig-roast thing for it...hahahah
Like seriously, i'm gonna get a buddy over her to use the excavator when Fred is at work. We need a 4'x4' hole and you need sand and charcoal and shit-loads of beer. :)
9. We're getting 4 more cows. We've decided to get the holstein/angus crosses cause they are black and white and we don't seem to like those ones much. Our 2 'keepers' are the jersey/angus crosses. We might even be able to start making money for this farm venture thing.
10. 'Loco', our adult male ostrich is ramming the females into the walls cause he's horny and his legs are as red as bright lipstick.
It's actually quite funny to watch at 7am. Poor females.
Nature is what it is.
Now back to plates.
My plate is so 'over-filling' that sometimes it is quite almost 'over-whelming.'
I am so beyond the plate thing. I've now moved up to 'platters' and they are big ones at that.
University also taught me that people with plates so full that they can hardly keep up do it for a variety of reasons.
Some try and fill their days to the 'brim', to stop themselves from taking a breath and actually thinking of some wrong we thought about, but chose to file away for 'another' day.
There is variety of people though, who embrace each day for what it is and it is really only 'one' damn day.
If you only had one day, wouldn't you fill it up to the absolute maximum? You're not gonna have tomorrow. Why wouldn't you want to do it all today? Absolutely everything that you ever wanted to do.
I chose to live my life like this a long time ago, even before my cancer.
Cancer changed my plate size but not in the way that you'd imagined.
It took away so many things that I thought that I cared about and also brought fore-front a lot of things that I didn't give enough attention to.
'It evened out my life' if that makes any sense at all.
I don't ever anymore lay in bed at night making dealings with myself. I never say that I'll stop drinking red wine if my CT scan comes back clear.
I'm so beyond that now.
I still drink my red wine and I no long make deals with my body cause it's defied me already and in a big way.
Take nothing for granted.
Fill your plate AS MUCH as you can and 'pig-out' today and tomorrow and the next day.
Life is really sweet if you take it one day at a time.
after-note:
Tonight, I sat down for the first time and read my entries over the last 2 years. I am touched by all of the comments although I never responded and for that I am sorry.
This blog was initially meant to be a personal journal of my cancer experience and it turned out to be something way more than that.
It has evolved into my 'life journey' and its been quite the damn ride.
If I ever live to be an old grand-ma swinging in a chair, I will be 'exactly' how I'd hoped to be when I was a young kid with some foresight.
Why would anyone ever want a small plate?
Thursday, March 13, 2008
The difference between liabilities and assets.
I had a job interview Monday for a job doing basic accounting work part-time.
My mind was heavy with the question of disclosing or not disclosing the fact that I had cancer.
I wrestled with whether I would appear as a 'liability' to this company for having my body go wrong once already. Is it too much of a risk to put her on our health-care plan and have it come back? Why put thousands of dollars into training me for a job I might not have for very long.
or....
It could go the other-way.
I would appear as a 'hero' of sorts for having survived something a lot of others would not.
They could see me as a strong, driven person who got dealt a shitty hand and came back to win the game.
I went into my job interview for the posted position of 'administrative assistant' and I told the truth.
At the time, I found it odd that there was hardly any mention of my qualifications nor my work history.
The human resources manager and controller sat on the edges of their seats listening to me answer questions about my cancer experience and how much will and courage it took to get back up on the horse with a little baby and get back into this game called, 'life'.
I told them what it was like to come back from cancer a new person and undoubtedly a much better person.
I left the interview a little uncertain as the 'tone' of the interview was not what I expected. Nor did I expect to ever hear from them again.
I got a call a few hours ago from the same controller who sat in the boardroom with me listening to what I'd overcome and learned and he said he was 'profoundly' touched by my honesty during the interview.
I kept waiting for the 'thanks but we've chosen someone else' speech but instead I got the following one:
"You applied for the position of 'administrative assistant'. We have found someone a bit more 'appropriate' for it but I have another position that you might be interested in" he said.
"We have been looking for quite a while for someone to be my 'assistant'" he said.
"You mean you want me to be the 'assistant to the controller' for all the companies?" I asked totally shocked.
"I'm hardly qualified for that. I have no accounting degree and don't really know that much about running multi-level corporations." I said quite puzzled by the offer.
"You are the most fitting candidate to help me that I have yet interviewed", he said.
"You have learned lessons that others sometimes never get to learn. You can solve problems and you can research solutions. You have a drive to be the best that you can be and I'm going to give you the chance to do so."
I'm going to be working 30 hours a week to start and get used to it and then I'm going to be going back to work full-time helping run this corporation with over 200 people employed in different branches.
I am neither qualified for the job nor do I know the first thing about what I am going to be doing....
HOW AWESOME IS THAT?
Sometimes, I am so happy with the lessons that I have learned from having been through my cancer journey.
The biggest one is to be humble. I am no better than anyone else. I hurt sometimes too. I will help others in anyway that I can and I strive everyday to find positive in EVERYTHING that I do.
Maybe I was the best candidate after all for the job I'm going to be doing.
Cancer made me a liability at first.
But I realized today that somewhere along the way, it turned around and actually became an asset in my life in so, so many ways.
My mind was heavy with the question of disclosing or not disclosing the fact that I had cancer.
I wrestled with whether I would appear as a 'liability' to this company for having my body go wrong once already. Is it too much of a risk to put her on our health-care plan and have it come back? Why put thousands of dollars into training me for a job I might not have for very long.
or....
It could go the other-way.
I would appear as a 'hero' of sorts for having survived something a lot of others would not.
They could see me as a strong, driven person who got dealt a shitty hand and came back to win the game.
I went into my job interview for the posted position of 'administrative assistant' and I told the truth.
At the time, I found it odd that there was hardly any mention of my qualifications nor my work history.
The human resources manager and controller sat on the edges of their seats listening to me answer questions about my cancer experience and how much will and courage it took to get back up on the horse with a little baby and get back into this game called, 'life'.
I told them what it was like to come back from cancer a new person and undoubtedly a much better person.
I left the interview a little uncertain as the 'tone' of the interview was not what I expected. Nor did I expect to ever hear from them again.
I got a call a few hours ago from the same controller who sat in the boardroom with me listening to what I'd overcome and learned and he said he was 'profoundly' touched by my honesty during the interview.
I kept waiting for the 'thanks but we've chosen someone else' speech but instead I got the following one:
"You applied for the position of 'administrative assistant'. We have found someone a bit more 'appropriate' for it but I have another position that you might be interested in" he said.
"We have been looking for quite a while for someone to be my 'assistant'" he said.
"You mean you want me to be the 'assistant to the controller' for all the companies?" I asked totally shocked.
"I'm hardly qualified for that. I have no accounting degree and don't really know that much about running multi-level corporations." I said quite puzzled by the offer.
"You are the most fitting candidate to help me that I have yet interviewed", he said.
"You have learned lessons that others sometimes never get to learn. You can solve problems and you can research solutions. You have a drive to be the best that you can be and I'm going to give you the chance to do so."
I'm going to be working 30 hours a week to start and get used to it and then I'm going to be going back to work full-time helping run this corporation with over 200 people employed in different branches.
I am neither qualified for the job nor do I know the first thing about what I am going to be doing....
HOW AWESOME IS THAT?
Sometimes, I am so happy with the lessons that I have learned from having been through my cancer journey.
The biggest one is to be humble. I am no better than anyone else. I hurt sometimes too. I will help others in anyway that I can and I strive everyday to find positive in EVERYTHING that I do.
Maybe I was the best candidate after all for the job I'm going to be doing.
Cancer made me a liability at first.
But I realized today that somewhere along the way, it turned around and actually became an asset in my life in so, so many ways.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Noahs Ark and then some.
We always wonder where authors get the ideas for their stories.
Do they walk in the woods getting clarity on a lazy, Sunday afternoon or does it come to them gently as they sleep?
I never felt as if i had a story to tell till I danced with cancer and now it seems, I learn something in EVERYTHING that I do.
I have always had a deep love for animals. More-so than most others in fact.
When Freddy and I got together, he saw in me a 'mother' to look after any beast on his acerage and I saw in him someone who who do whatever was necessary to make me feel 'fulfilled.'
The only thing that seperated me from any animal I wanted to buy was Freddy's cheque book and a few loads of hay.
By 8:00 am, I am leaning over steel gates with rubber boots on hanging off of them and watching the sun come up through the sky and I breathe in the smell of ostrich shit and cow piss and I'm strangely way more peaceful.
I un-tangle the fucking dog from the post that she's been barking at since about 1:30 am and I'm grateful when she shuts the fuck-up.
I hit the 'hissing,spitting' goose that is becoming a bit more 'randy' for my tastes, with the horsey bucket and it goes away thank you very much.
I load the buckets and buckets of 'animal' feed to them over and over again. They don't really care if the food is for 'ratities'...(WTF? They are ostriches people.) or pigs or ethiopians for that god-damn matter...They eat it ALL...)
I will even admit to falling in about a foot of pig 'shit/piss/phlem/vomit' whatever and going back in Jim to get my glasses afterwards.
Our lazy life living in the country on 5 acres of land comes to a fucking halt at about 5am when all the animals decide that they are getting up and so are you.
I wanted the animals though. I still do...
Fred thinks I'm nuts most days but he keeps paying the feed bills and I'm wearing out my first set of boots and most nights I sit on the back steps and watch the sun go down with my rubber boots on and I wonder what I did so fucking good to be able to sit there and smile like I do.
Do they walk in the woods getting clarity on a lazy, Sunday afternoon or does it come to them gently as they sleep?
I never felt as if i had a story to tell till I danced with cancer and now it seems, I learn something in EVERYTHING that I do.
I have always had a deep love for animals. More-so than most others in fact.
When Freddy and I got together, he saw in me a 'mother' to look after any beast on his acerage and I saw in him someone who who do whatever was necessary to make me feel 'fulfilled.'
The only thing that seperated me from any animal I wanted to buy was Freddy's cheque book and a few loads of hay.
By 8:00 am, I am leaning over steel gates with rubber boots on hanging off of them and watching the sun come up through the sky and I breathe in the smell of ostrich shit and cow piss and I'm strangely way more peaceful.
I un-tangle the fucking dog from the post that she's been barking at since about 1:30 am and I'm grateful when she shuts the fuck-up.
I hit the 'hissing,spitting' goose that is becoming a bit more 'randy' for my tastes, with the horsey bucket and it goes away thank you very much.
I load the buckets and buckets of 'animal' feed to them over and over again. They don't really care if the food is for 'ratities'...(WTF? They are ostriches people.) or pigs or ethiopians for that god-damn matter...They eat it ALL...)
I will even admit to falling in about a foot of pig 'shit/piss/phlem/vomit' whatever and going back in Jim to get my glasses afterwards.
Our lazy life living in the country on 5 acres of land comes to a fucking halt at about 5am when all the animals decide that they are getting up and so are you.
I wanted the animals though. I still do...
Fred thinks I'm nuts most days but he keeps paying the feed bills and I'm wearing out my first set of boots and most nights I sit on the back steps and watch the sun go down with my rubber boots on and I wonder what I did so fucking good to be able to sit there and smile like I do.
There are varying degrees of tattoos.
My son Dane, is 2 years old.
This morning getting out of the shower, said little man spied a tattoo that I have on my ass.
"Vroom, vroom" he said in the cutest voice possible. Dane knows a classic car when he sees one and knows a damn good tattoo as well.
After I was diagnosed with cancer I had to get 'tattoo-ed' with a pukey color of green in 4 places around my pelvic area. This was done to 'mark' me for radiation treatments so they could get it 'right' for sparky.
Once I finished my treatments I felt sort of 'marked' for lack of a better word. I felt that those 4 'dots' showed my scar from radiation treatments and no matter what shape I got my mind back into, the residuals would remain.
So, I started on a path to get some 'kick-ass' tattoo to cover-up the mark that technology in fact used, to save my life.
Call me vain. Call me whatever you like actually. Views of others rarely bother me anymore. Call it a cancer 'fix' of sorts.
I perused a few on-line tattoo sites looking for something to signify who the 'new' me was and what I had become after this dance with cancer.
Initially, I wanted an elaborate fairy with detail to die for and colors of the brightest realms.
I went to meet with "Jake" (highly regarded tattoo guy)
Jake asked what I wanted.
I went on about some pics. that I had of fairies to which he replies.
"Why is it you chicks always want the butterflies and the fairies?"
Hmmm...ponder for a second or so and then say.....
"Ok, what would you suggest?"
"What drives you? What makes you go 'ewww''''?" he asks
"Hmmm...I love old cars" I say...
Within 2 days, he's got a few digi. proofs of Freddy's 1970 mach I and although I thought initially it would be 1 inch around, the baby finished off at 6 inches by 6 inches...
Call me fucking nuts!!!!
The tattoo hurt like hell and took 3 hours but it was so worth it.
Why a 1970 Mustang Mach I? you ask....
1. Only 3000 built like this one. About my same chances of getting cancer.
2. Goes like freaking snot as do I.
3. Its loud sometimes and oh so damn sexy...
and finally,
It represents a muscle car of the finest example.
I did initially tell Freddy that I was going to get a tattoo. He actually wanted me to get a gay white-rose on my breast..
Yup, I'll do that when I'm on my way to buy the flour to bake your freaking bread buddy. :)
Said tattoo was debuted while playing pool.
"So, lets see the flower that you got on your butt darling"....says fred.
(he must be some sort of moron to thing that I'd maybe meet '1/2' way and get his rose on my ass? lol)
I removed the bandage and I thought he was going to cry, honestly.
He looked at the detail and the fact that this chick in front of him actually had the tattoo with detail enough to read the personalized license plate.
In fact, a week later Freddy took the Mach I by to see Jake who loved the car and said that he'd won a 1st place prize for the car on my ass....:)
Why is it this cancer in my 'ass' makes all kinds of things appear to start from my ass or end from my ass? hehehe
I noticed this morning that the pukey green tattoo courtesy of the "BC Cancer Centre" is smack-dab-in-the-middle of the headlight of the Mustang Mach I covering most of my ass currently.
And then of course, I got to thinking.
Maybe the green dot in my headlight means something. "Keep it forth-right and centre." as they say.
"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer" as they say.
I'm already thinking of my next tattoo....
I'm now at 3.
First one was a bad hockey bet. Lost badly. 1 grand in US dollars...(was huge then...like 17 freaking dollars...hahaha) and a NJ devils tattoo.
I wear it proudly.
Next as the tazmanian devil. Bit of devil in me, yes.:) He's on my right cheek :)
Mach I is left ass cheek. (I was actually quite shocked it healed considering the skin was fucking radiation a few months ago there...(wow...radiated sounds so harsh, no? :))
I'm sure I'll keep it up and become one of those fat-chicks in the nursing homes with tattoos meeting stretched skin and my mach I will look like a fucking 'boat' but who cares really?
If I have the mind-set to actually remember when I got the tatto0, so be it.
If not, I'll just refer back to my blog...
btw-I had 90 hits yesterday on this blog-o-meter and that makes me think that I'm either really fucking warped or else I'm doing some damn good here...
I prefer the fucking warped thing, Jim.
This morning getting out of the shower, said little man spied a tattoo that I have on my ass.
"Vroom, vroom" he said in the cutest voice possible. Dane knows a classic car when he sees one and knows a damn good tattoo as well.
After I was diagnosed with cancer I had to get 'tattoo-ed' with a pukey color of green in 4 places around my pelvic area. This was done to 'mark' me for radiation treatments so they could get it 'right' for sparky.
Once I finished my treatments I felt sort of 'marked' for lack of a better word. I felt that those 4 'dots' showed my scar from radiation treatments and no matter what shape I got my mind back into, the residuals would remain.
So, I started on a path to get some 'kick-ass' tattoo to cover-up the mark that technology in fact used, to save my life.
Call me vain. Call me whatever you like actually. Views of others rarely bother me anymore. Call it a cancer 'fix' of sorts.
I perused a few on-line tattoo sites looking for something to signify who the 'new' me was and what I had become after this dance with cancer.
Initially, I wanted an elaborate fairy with detail to die for and colors of the brightest realms.
I went to meet with "Jake" (highly regarded tattoo guy)
Jake asked what I wanted.
I went on about some pics. that I had of fairies to which he replies.
"Why is it you chicks always want the butterflies and the fairies?"
Hmmm...ponder for a second or so and then say.....
"Ok, what would you suggest?"
"What drives you? What makes you go 'ewww''''?" he asks
"Hmmm...I love old cars" I say...
Within 2 days, he's got a few digi. proofs of Freddy's 1970 mach I and although I thought initially it would be 1 inch around, the baby finished off at 6 inches by 6 inches...
Call me fucking nuts!!!!
The tattoo hurt like hell and took 3 hours but it was so worth it.
Why a 1970 Mustang Mach I? you ask....
1. Only 3000 built like this one. About my same chances of getting cancer.
2. Goes like freaking snot as do I.
3. Its loud sometimes and oh so damn sexy...
and finally,
It represents a muscle car of the finest example.
I did initially tell Freddy that I was going to get a tattoo. He actually wanted me to get a gay white-rose on my breast..
Yup, I'll do that when I'm on my way to buy the flour to bake your freaking bread buddy. :)
Said tattoo was debuted while playing pool.
"So, lets see the flower that you got on your butt darling"....says fred.
(he must be some sort of moron to thing that I'd maybe meet '1/2' way and get his rose on my ass? lol)
I removed the bandage and I thought he was going to cry, honestly.
He looked at the detail and the fact that this chick in front of him actually had the tattoo with detail enough to read the personalized license plate.
In fact, a week later Freddy took the Mach I by to see Jake who loved the car and said that he'd won a 1st place prize for the car on my ass....:)
Why is it this cancer in my 'ass' makes all kinds of things appear to start from my ass or end from my ass? hehehe
I noticed this morning that the pukey green tattoo courtesy of the "BC Cancer Centre" is smack-dab-in-the-middle of the headlight of the Mustang Mach I covering most of my ass currently.
And then of course, I got to thinking.
Maybe the green dot in my headlight means something. "Keep it forth-right and centre." as they say.
"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer" as they say.
I'm already thinking of my next tattoo....
I'm now at 3.
First one was a bad hockey bet. Lost badly. 1 grand in US dollars...(was huge then...like 17 freaking dollars...hahaha) and a NJ devils tattoo.
I wear it proudly.
Next as the tazmanian devil. Bit of devil in me, yes.:) He's on my right cheek :)
Mach I is left ass cheek. (I was actually quite shocked it healed considering the skin was fucking radiation a few months ago there...(wow...radiated sounds so harsh, no? :))
I'm sure I'll keep it up and become one of those fat-chicks in the nursing homes with tattoos meeting stretched skin and my mach I will look like a fucking 'boat' but who cares really?
If I have the mind-set to actually remember when I got the tatto0, so be it.
If not, I'll just refer back to my blog...
btw-I had 90 hits yesterday on this blog-o-meter and that makes me think that I'm either really fucking warped or else I'm doing some damn good here...
I prefer the fucking warped thing, Jim.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Indecent disclosure?
I have a job interview Monday afternoon.
The job is part-time which suits me perfectly considering all of the animals and 'shit' in life that I have to look after.
I did however notice an almost 2 year 'gap' in my resume dating pretty much back to when I started cancer treatment to just about now.
To date, I have done only contract work from home as well as looking after Fred's company and tending to the animals.
Right now, I need to do something more.
So, I sent out a few resumes to a few job postings and have 4 interviews already set up for next week.
Is it palliative care to which I 'partaked of the juices' a few months ago?
NOPE.
It is doing basic accounting for a few companies as I'm pretty damn good with this sort of thing. I have developed an incredible ability to deal with companies and numbers after having dealt with Freddy's company for awhile :)
My resume is exemplary. I have worked both with NASA and the secret service. I have no criminal record and am 5 courses short of a masters degree. I DO NOT walk and blow bubbles.
Hmmm...how to explain the 2 year gap?
Do I come right out and shoot straight and say, "Yup, I didn't work for 2 years as I went through a year of cancer treatment and saw the light at the end of the tunnel and I survived anal cancer?"
How do you explain a yearning from working with a BSc in computer sciences and being state-side 3 weeks a year to only wanting to work outside of the house for a bit of spending money?
"Can you multi-task?" Hmmm...I coordinated myself having daily radiation treatments while coaching soccer as well as tending to 'life' with a 12 year old as well as an 8 month old baby. Does that not give me the right to say, "Yes", I can multi-task?
"How are you with dealines?" Hmm...I finished up my cancer treatments as fast as I could as I still wanted to coach competitive soccer. I also picked up my daughter from school at 3 as I had my radiation appts. at 4 so she could be a part of it and not feel so scared.
"What situation would you speak of that spoke volumes about the type of person that you were?"
Hmmm...Well, I remember a time on Halloween night and Brianne was 10 and Dane was what would be considered 'fresh.'
I'd just finished my 19th radiation treatment and I was so sore with 3rd degree burns and I dressed up Brianne as a witch and Dane became a dinosaur and I brought them both in with me to have my daily dose.
The nurses were all laughing at how the kids were dressed and I dragged my 'almost' done ass into the room once again and I left and I took the two most important people in my life out 'trick or treating'.
Dane was in his stroller and Brianne saw how weak I actually was but I kept on going till both kids had 2 pillow-cases of 'goods' to take home.
Does one disclose how we became who we are in the circumstances?
Does having lived through cancer and see the other side make us an asset or a liability in the views of a potential employer?
We shall see.
The job is part-time which suits me perfectly considering all of the animals and 'shit' in life that I have to look after.
I did however notice an almost 2 year 'gap' in my resume dating pretty much back to when I started cancer treatment to just about now.
To date, I have done only contract work from home as well as looking after Fred's company and tending to the animals.
Right now, I need to do something more.
So, I sent out a few resumes to a few job postings and have 4 interviews already set up for next week.
Is it palliative care to which I 'partaked of the juices' a few months ago?
NOPE.
It is doing basic accounting for a few companies as I'm pretty damn good with this sort of thing. I have developed an incredible ability to deal with companies and numbers after having dealt with Freddy's company for awhile :)
My resume is exemplary. I have worked both with NASA and the secret service. I have no criminal record and am 5 courses short of a masters degree. I DO NOT walk and blow bubbles.
Hmmm...how to explain the 2 year gap?
Do I come right out and shoot straight and say, "Yup, I didn't work for 2 years as I went through a year of cancer treatment and saw the light at the end of the tunnel and I survived anal cancer?"
How do you explain a yearning from working with a BSc in computer sciences and being state-side 3 weeks a year to only wanting to work outside of the house for a bit of spending money?
"Can you multi-task?" Hmmm...I coordinated myself having daily radiation treatments while coaching soccer as well as tending to 'life' with a 12 year old as well as an 8 month old baby. Does that not give me the right to say, "Yes", I can multi-task?
"How are you with dealines?" Hmm...I finished up my cancer treatments as fast as I could as I still wanted to coach competitive soccer. I also picked up my daughter from school at 3 as I had my radiation appts. at 4 so she could be a part of it and not feel so scared.
"What situation would you speak of that spoke volumes about the type of person that you were?"
Hmmm...Well, I remember a time on Halloween night and Brianne was 10 and Dane was what would be considered 'fresh.'
I'd just finished my 19th radiation treatment and I was so sore with 3rd degree burns and I dressed up Brianne as a witch and Dane became a dinosaur and I brought them both in with me to have my daily dose.
The nurses were all laughing at how the kids were dressed and I dragged my 'almost' done ass into the room once again and I left and I took the two most important people in my life out 'trick or treating'.
Dane was in his stroller and Brianne saw how weak I actually was but I kept on going till both kids had 2 pillow-cases of 'goods' to take home.
Does one disclose how we became who we are in the circumstances?
Does having lived through cancer and see the other side make us an asset or a liability in the views of a potential employer?
We shall see.
Where oh where did my progesterone go...oh where..
Menopause, getting old, Men-o-pot. Call it what you will.
I was thrown into immediate menopause when I finished my first visit with 'sparky' the radiation wonder.
I thought (at first) that my period would go away slowly monthly to bi-monthly to semi-yearly to.....(you get the picture)
It did not work this way.
"Poof", like a flash I was done.
No more sore boobs each month. No more buying tampons. No bitchiness to blame on my period. (sucks to not have that excuse anymore, believe you me)
Its amazing how much estrogen and progesterone affect our female bodies.
I started sweating at night a bit. I also started noticing little 'granny' hairs which I plucked faster than you can say, "old lady". :)
Tweezers with 'diamond tip points' suddenly became my new best friend.
After a few months of this, I decided to visit the doctor and go on hormone replacement drugs. I take a daily dose of estrogen and progesterone and do feel somewhat better.
The debate is out though, on whether these HRTs actually cause cancers instead of just relieving symptoms of the treatments of those cancers.
I went looking on Dr. Google and was shocked to find out that my risk of breast cancer is higher while on the HRTs and my risk of colo-rectal cancer is actually lower. !!!
Hmmm...
So, I ponder...
I've already had fucking colo-rectal cancer. (I call it this as most people whom I tell I have had anal cancer just look at me blankly pondering if I REALLY had cancer in my ass?) Call me politically 'cancer correct.'
Yes, people there is such a thing as cancer in one's "ass" !!!!
If my risk is lower for something that I've already had, isn't that just a tad bit screwed up then?
Does that not make my risk for breast cancer even higher then if I've already received the low prize from the HRTs?
I've never had breast cancer. I'm sure its like the cancer I had only maybe a bit higher....(OK, a LOT higher as my 'tatas' have not fallen THAT much yet.)
Will I stop the 'fake' hormone therapy?
NOPE.
"Why Not?" you ask.
It is so much nicer having mucous come out of your 'private' place than out of your ass. !!! One of the first signs of my cancer was ass 'mucous'....:)
I feel way 'purdier' with the hormones.
Freddy is also way more attractive to me when I am on hormones. No hormones, no sexual feelings. Its as simple as that.
I always knew I would go into menopause. Given fact really.
I however never thought it would be immediate and I would only be 39 years of age and my little boy would only be 8 months old. WOW
I'm going to watch the news and keep track of the new finding on HRTs and maybe change my mind.
For now though, I'll keep doing what I'm doing and hope that I haven't geared myself up for a second round with Hank and his friends.
I was thrown into immediate menopause when I finished my first visit with 'sparky' the radiation wonder.
I thought (at first) that my period would go away slowly monthly to bi-monthly to semi-yearly to.....(you get the picture)
It did not work this way.
"Poof", like a flash I was done.
No more sore boobs each month. No more buying tampons. No bitchiness to blame on my period. (sucks to not have that excuse anymore, believe you me)
Its amazing how much estrogen and progesterone affect our female bodies.
I started sweating at night a bit. I also started noticing little 'granny' hairs which I plucked faster than you can say, "old lady". :)
Tweezers with 'diamond tip points' suddenly became my new best friend.
After a few months of this, I decided to visit the doctor and go on hormone replacement drugs. I take a daily dose of estrogen and progesterone and do feel somewhat better.
The debate is out though, on whether these HRTs actually cause cancers instead of just relieving symptoms of the treatments of those cancers.
I went looking on Dr. Google and was shocked to find out that my risk of breast cancer is higher while on the HRTs and my risk of colo-rectal cancer is actually lower. !!!
Hmmm...
So, I ponder...
I've already had fucking colo-rectal cancer. (I call it this as most people whom I tell I have had anal cancer just look at me blankly pondering if I REALLY had cancer in my ass?) Call me politically 'cancer correct.'
Yes, people there is such a thing as cancer in one's "ass" !!!!
If my risk is lower for something that I've already had, isn't that just a tad bit screwed up then?
Does that not make my risk for breast cancer even higher then if I've already received the low prize from the HRTs?
I've never had breast cancer. I'm sure its like the cancer I had only maybe a bit higher....(OK, a LOT higher as my 'tatas' have not fallen THAT much yet.)
Will I stop the 'fake' hormone therapy?
NOPE.
"Why Not?" you ask.
It is so much nicer having mucous come out of your 'private' place than out of your ass. !!! One of the first signs of my cancer was ass 'mucous'....:)
I feel way 'purdier' with the hormones.
Freddy is also way more attractive to me when I am on hormones. No hormones, no sexual feelings. Its as simple as that.
I always knew I would go into menopause. Given fact really.
I however never thought it would be immediate and I would only be 39 years of age and my little boy would only be 8 months old. WOW
I'm going to watch the news and keep track of the new finding on HRTs and maybe change my mind.
For now though, I'll keep doing what I'm doing and hope that I haven't geared myself up for a second round with Hank and his friends.
Hope floats but poop does not.
A long time ago in a land far, far away I never seemed to care about what went into my body or what came out of my body.
An article caught my eye while waiting in line at the grocery store check-out stand.
"Judge your health by your poop."
WTF? Of course, I have to grab said magazine and pay quickly for it while I stuff it into my purse and rush out to my van and quickly peruse my 'prize' article.
According to this article, I am not healthy. My poop does not float.
My poop hits the sides of the bowl like a handful of oil from the tar-sands in Alberta. Not a very 'purdy' sight indeed.
Optimum poop floats on the surface like a lazy muscovy duck in the spring. Mine slides down the bowl like hot, boiling lava.
Ever since I dated a radiation machine (rad-o-meister) my poop nor my body has not quite been the same.
There is nothing like getting about 6000gy worth of radiation to the ol' a-hole to forever render me 'poop' not-so-good.
I continued reading the article to find out that not only is floating a factor but color is as well.
Your poop should be the color of a mahogany couch. You know that warm, brown color that speaks of wealth and confidence.
Upon examination of mine this morning, I could not draw comparison to any couch in my house. I quickly realized that mine is more the color of 'burnt engine oil' in an old car.
Why is this?
I eat good food and drink good wine. :)
I went to speak to Dr. Google and starting putting some pieces of the puzzle together.
Dating a radiaiton machine for quite a few weeks leaves your bowels in a pretty 'fucked up' state of mind. For how long, I do not know.
If the people of Haroshima had radiation after effects for decades, chances are that I will as well.
Upon waking up first thing, I have to run to the washroom. Not a dawdling kind of 'trying' to find your way 1/2 asleep kind of run. This is more of a 'frantic' jaunt as I have lost a bit of 'control' first thing in the morning.
Upon waking, the stop-watch goes off and I've got about say 30 seconds to get there and that's about it.
And of course, after its all done, there is the 'inspection' phase where you're looking for blood or some other 'sign' that Hank (name for my cancer) has decided to come back into my ass for another visit.
Nope, no sign of cancer. All I find is a dollop of black goo that would make the beverly hillbillies proud if it was on their front lawn and not in my toilet bowl.
Somedays, it is worse than other days.
There is nothing like a big, juicy 8 oz. blue steak to wreck havoc on my poop factor.
Within 2 hours of eating said meal, its coming out the other end, Jim, in a stream you'd think was freaking water and not poop.
Its almost as if my body becomes a machine taking solid meat and turning it into 'au jus' in the blink of an eye.
Do I stop eating meat? Nope. I love meat and will not give it up. Ditto for my beverage of choice, shiraz wine.
My poop loses according to the article. Mine does not float nor does it have any evidence of EVER becoming the type to maybe float once in a while. Lazy-ass freaking poop.
Mine sinks like a freaking rock.
Do I care really? hmmm...Well it would be nice to say that my poop floats so therefore I am healthy.
Actually, I don't really give a shit.
An article caught my eye while waiting in line at the grocery store check-out stand.
"Judge your health by your poop."
WTF? Of course, I have to grab said magazine and pay quickly for it while I stuff it into my purse and rush out to my van and quickly peruse my 'prize' article.
According to this article, I am not healthy. My poop does not float.
My poop hits the sides of the bowl like a handful of oil from the tar-sands in Alberta. Not a very 'purdy' sight indeed.
Optimum poop floats on the surface like a lazy muscovy duck in the spring. Mine slides down the bowl like hot, boiling lava.
Ever since I dated a radiation machine (rad-o-meister) my poop nor my body has not quite been the same.
There is nothing like getting about 6000gy worth of radiation to the ol' a-hole to forever render me 'poop' not-so-good.
I continued reading the article to find out that not only is floating a factor but color is as well.
Your poop should be the color of a mahogany couch. You know that warm, brown color that speaks of wealth and confidence.
Upon examination of mine this morning, I could not draw comparison to any couch in my house. I quickly realized that mine is more the color of 'burnt engine oil' in an old car.
Why is this?
I eat good food and drink good wine. :)
I went to speak to Dr. Google and starting putting some pieces of the puzzle together.
Dating a radiaiton machine for quite a few weeks leaves your bowels in a pretty 'fucked up' state of mind. For how long, I do not know.
If the people of Haroshima had radiation after effects for decades, chances are that I will as well.
Upon waking up first thing, I have to run to the washroom. Not a dawdling kind of 'trying' to find your way 1/2 asleep kind of run. This is more of a 'frantic' jaunt as I have lost a bit of 'control' first thing in the morning.
Upon waking, the stop-watch goes off and I've got about say 30 seconds to get there and that's about it.
And of course, after its all done, there is the 'inspection' phase where you're looking for blood or some other 'sign' that Hank (name for my cancer) has decided to come back into my ass for another visit.
Nope, no sign of cancer. All I find is a dollop of black goo that would make the beverly hillbillies proud if it was on their front lawn and not in my toilet bowl.
Somedays, it is worse than other days.
There is nothing like a big, juicy 8 oz. blue steak to wreck havoc on my poop factor.
Within 2 hours of eating said meal, its coming out the other end, Jim, in a stream you'd think was freaking water and not poop.
Its almost as if my body becomes a machine taking solid meat and turning it into 'au jus' in the blink of an eye.
Do I stop eating meat? Nope. I love meat and will not give it up. Ditto for my beverage of choice, shiraz wine.
My poop loses according to the article. Mine does not float nor does it have any evidence of EVER becoming the type to maybe float once in a while. Lazy-ass freaking poop.
Mine sinks like a freaking rock.
Do I care really? hmmm...Well it would be nice to say that my poop floats so therefore I am healthy.
Actually, I don't really give a shit.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Barking at the moon and the trees and......
A bit of background first.
I am a true animal lover extraordinaire. I have fostered dogs, rats, cows, sheep and pretty much everything else. (Yes rats is correct. I don't do cats.)
My locale of choice is in the country and I currently throw buckets full of money at 3 cows, 4 ostriches, 6 pigs, 2 llamas and a shitload of ducks. (some mine and some just friends sleeping over. :)
My dad was a canine RCMP police officer so I come by this trait quite easily.
I am also the person you see crossing the street to pet a puppy or spending 'free time' at the local SPCA just playing around with man's supposed best friend.
Now for the story:
When Freddy and I got together, he expressed a life-long yearning to own a 'Komondor' puppy.
Komondors are very rare and also pretty pricey. (As is all the things we seem to want)
And of course, being the fulfiller of dreams that I am, I go on the big bad web to find my love said puppy.
4 months later including 4 plane rides and a trip to Seattle Seatac airport, we have our 'gem' of a dog. I might add as well that I was interrogated big-time by some guy at the freaking border over this puppy and almost had to sell youngest child to get said mutt accross the line.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we chose the pick of the litter female of this species and she was a cute as a button. We were so much in love.
Fast-track 9 months and I am currently wanting to take her and string her up from the highest tree that I can find and rip her freaking vocal-cords out.
She barks at trees. She barks at birds. She barks at the grass lazily moving in the breeze. THIS FREAKING DOG barks at everything.
We live on 5 acres of property. Our neighbours are pissed and we cannot sleep at night .
So, I start on a mission trying to curb my 'lovely' dog of her habit.
I get a pet-cetera frequent sucker card and blow through 700.00 in de-barking collars faster than I can go through a box of wine. What happended? ABSOLUTELY FREAKING NOTHING. Well except her having a nice collar on while barking.
I take her to TNT dog training. (notice the mention of dynamite in the training academy of choice?)
What happended there you ask?
We got kicked out cause 'barking dog' was barking at mirror that was to be used to make sure all was well in class.
We both got deemed 'disruptive' and out the door we go.
By this point, all neighbours are getting choked and I'm resorting to feeding 1/2 sacks of beer to my spca buddies who are coming to the house. No need to actually know how to get here really. Our address is almost gps'd into their bloody trucks at this point.
So, last night I made the choice to have my show-quality komondor puppy 'de-barked.'
What is de-barking?
Readers digest version is as follows:
1. Put dog to sleep.
2. Cut vocal cords.
3. Wake 'now silent' dog up.
Strangely, I have no ill feelings about doing this either.
The barking will stop. (at least for awhile. How can they NOT guarantee this shit?)
At this point, I'd pay $ 500.00 freaking dollars a year to have this done.
Silence is golden. I thrive on it in the country.
Call me cruel and inhumane. (please check though whether I've saved 84 or 85 dog's lives. I cannot remember anymore.)
Either way, it saves her from being permanently put to sleep and allows us to finally sleep at night.
I am a true animal lover extraordinaire. I have fostered dogs, rats, cows, sheep and pretty much everything else. (Yes rats is correct. I don't do cats.)
My locale of choice is in the country and I currently throw buckets full of money at 3 cows, 4 ostriches, 6 pigs, 2 llamas and a shitload of ducks. (some mine and some just friends sleeping over. :)
My dad was a canine RCMP police officer so I come by this trait quite easily.
I am also the person you see crossing the street to pet a puppy or spending 'free time' at the local SPCA just playing around with man's supposed best friend.
Now for the story:
When Freddy and I got together, he expressed a life-long yearning to own a 'Komondor' puppy.
Komondors are very rare and also pretty pricey. (As is all the things we seem to want)
And of course, being the fulfiller of dreams that I am, I go on the big bad web to find my love said puppy.
4 months later including 4 plane rides and a trip to Seattle Seatac airport, we have our 'gem' of a dog. I might add as well that I was interrogated big-time by some guy at the freaking border over this puppy and almost had to sell youngest child to get said mutt accross the line.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, we chose the pick of the litter female of this species and she was a cute as a button. We were so much in love.
Fast-track 9 months and I am currently wanting to take her and string her up from the highest tree that I can find and rip her freaking vocal-cords out.
She barks at trees. She barks at birds. She barks at the grass lazily moving in the breeze. THIS FREAKING DOG barks at everything.
We live on 5 acres of property. Our neighbours are pissed and we cannot sleep at night .
So, I start on a mission trying to curb my 'lovely' dog of her habit.
I get a pet-cetera frequent sucker card and blow through 700.00 in de-barking collars faster than I can go through a box of wine. What happended? ABSOLUTELY FREAKING NOTHING. Well except her having a nice collar on while barking.
I take her to TNT dog training. (notice the mention of dynamite in the training academy of choice?)
What happended there you ask?
We got kicked out cause 'barking dog' was barking at mirror that was to be used to make sure all was well in class.
We both got deemed 'disruptive' and out the door we go.
By this point, all neighbours are getting choked and I'm resorting to feeding 1/2 sacks of beer to my spca buddies who are coming to the house. No need to actually know how to get here really. Our address is almost gps'd into their bloody trucks at this point.
So, last night I made the choice to have my show-quality komondor puppy 'de-barked.'
What is de-barking?
Readers digest version is as follows:
1. Put dog to sleep.
2. Cut vocal cords.
3. Wake 'now silent' dog up.
Strangely, I have no ill feelings about doing this either.
The barking will stop. (at least for awhile. How can they NOT guarantee this shit?)
At this point, I'd pay $ 500.00 freaking dollars a year to have this done.
Silence is golden. I thrive on it in the country.
Call me cruel and inhumane. (please check though whether I've saved 84 or 85 dog's lives. I cannot remember anymore.)
Either way, it saves her from being permanently put to sleep and allows us to finally sleep at night.
Dirty Dancing with Pancreatic cancer
Today, I learned that Patrick Swayze has pancreatic cancer.
The article stated that he has 'little' disease present when diagnosed. WTF is this?
One of the 'gifts' of having cancer is a knowledge about other cancers. We always look for ones that are way worse than the ones that we have.
Pancreatic cancer is a silent killer who does not make itself known until it is too late. The 5 year survival rate is less than 5% and almost 60% of cases are diagnosed AFTER the cancer has mestastised to distant organs.
Bullshit, he has a little bit of 'disease'.
The national enquirer (being the upscale NEWSpaper that is is states that he has less than 2 months to live. Fact or fiction?)
I'm going to go with the fact card, Jim.
I have personally talked to a few people with newly-diagnosed pancreatic cancer and within 3 months, ALL 3 were pushing up daisies.
Why sugar-coat what he has and just let everyone know that 'uh oh', this ain't gonna turn out very well?
Pancreatic cancer very rarely responds to even the most aggressive of chemotherapy drugs and the death is fast and very painful.
We all need to be a little more honest with each other concerning some facets of this insidiuous disease.
The second question to ponder is how in the hell did the national enquirer even find out about his cancer?
I'm guessing some self-serving oncology nurse got a mitt-full of dough to tell the world of Patrick's fight for his life.
Whatever is this world coming to when we can't even have our own deaths to ourselves?
I could not imagine having cameras present while my a-hole is getting radiated to a freaking crisp?
Have we no morals or empathy or others anymore?
I really like Patrick Swayze and I wish him nothing but the best in the fight that he is starting to fight right now at such a young age. (55 I believe)
I sincerely hope that he defies the odds and ends up in the 4% of stats that he makes it to 5 years.
Realistically though, I can't see it happening.
The article stated that he has 'little' disease present when diagnosed. WTF is this?
One of the 'gifts' of having cancer is a knowledge about other cancers. We always look for ones that are way worse than the ones that we have.
Pancreatic cancer is a silent killer who does not make itself known until it is too late. The 5 year survival rate is less than 5% and almost 60% of cases are diagnosed AFTER the cancer has mestastised to distant organs.
Bullshit, he has a little bit of 'disease'.
The national enquirer (being the upscale NEWSpaper that is is states that he has less than 2 months to live. Fact or fiction?)
I'm going to go with the fact card, Jim.
I have personally talked to a few people with newly-diagnosed pancreatic cancer and within 3 months, ALL 3 were pushing up daisies.
Why sugar-coat what he has and just let everyone know that 'uh oh', this ain't gonna turn out very well?
Pancreatic cancer very rarely responds to even the most aggressive of chemotherapy drugs and the death is fast and very painful.
We all need to be a little more honest with each other concerning some facets of this insidiuous disease.
The second question to ponder is how in the hell did the national enquirer even find out about his cancer?
I'm guessing some self-serving oncology nurse got a mitt-full of dough to tell the world of Patrick's fight for his life.
Whatever is this world coming to when we can't even have our own deaths to ourselves?
I could not imagine having cameras present while my a-hole is getting radiated to a freaking crisp?
Have we no morals or empathy or others anymore?
I really like Patrick Swayze and I wish him nothing but the best in the fight that he is starting to fight right now at such a young age. (55 I believe)
I sincerely hope that he defies the odds and ends up in the 4% of stats that he makes it to 5 years.
Realistically though, I can't see it happening.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
A year and a lifetime later
I realized this morning that it has been OVER a year since I posted last to my blog. WOW
I also realized that about a year ago was when I met Fred and my life completely changed. heheh
Coincidence? probably not. :)
First off, cancer update.
No cancer in ass anymore. Hank has now vacated the building and I hope pretty much everyday that he does not EVER, EVER come back into my ass again....:) (yup, i'm still doing ass jokes almost 2 years after having had anal cancer)
January was my last 'check-me-up' and all is well.
It still amazes me though that having a finger up your ass and blood draws is pretty much enough to render you, 'cancer free' for another year. (unless I become symptomatic). YIKES
Walking into the cancer clinic is still a daunting task though. I still have trouble walking by all of the bald people hacking up lungs and wondering 'what' I did to get immediately over it and so far, not have it come back?
Am I a better person than they are? Probably not.
Did I do some great deed for someone that gave me a 'get out of jail free' card? Well, that I might have but doubt that it would warrant the blessing I received.
They say the only thing stopping you from realizing your dreams is faith and hope. I don't believe this anymore as I saw first-hand people in the clinic that you could plainly see as fighting like hell to stay in whatever life they had.
A year later, what have I learned from having cancer. (almost 2 years now in fact)
1. Be who you are and say what you feel. Those that matter won't mind and those that mind don't really matter. Profound but true.
2. Do everything you want to do today. Have a bit of faith in yourself and look around you and quietly think for a minute 'what if you don't have tomorrow?'
3. There is a siver-lining in every dark cloud in the sky. I can so attest to this.
4. Laugh and jump and hug people more. Be nicer to people you see. Say hi to make someone's day. Help someone out or at least offer to. Shut up and listen. If you are not listening, you are not learning.
Ok, now that I've done the 'profound' beadyism, an update on my life in point form.
What a difference a year makes.
1. I went from a single mom with 2 small kids to living on a big, 'kick-ass' acerage where all of the animals that I've ever wanted are happily grazing outside.
2. I went from dating 'smucks' to living with undoubtedly one of the nicest human beings one could ever have the opportunity to meet. (with full legal co-habitation agreement in place I might add. Gotta protect those kidlettes)
3. I went from a single mom to a step mom of 2 other kids. Can you say, 'busy?'
4. I went from a person whom everyone liked to a person Fred's ex would rather see dead. I find it so wrong that not being a 'crack-head' would warrant such loathing.
I choose to take the high road here though and just 'dream' about hollow-point bullets and kick-ass scopes on guns. Good Beady. Good Beady.
5. I go from having periods every month to having not had one in almost 2 years now. At first, it made me somewhat sad. Now, I barely think about it as I'm buying feminine hygiene products for my daughter.
My life is awesome.
The return from Oz was a journey I would not wish on 'anyone'. (even Atilla, the ex).
I will however say that if I could turn back the clock, I'm leave it alone and let it happen all over again. (ground hog day thing)
Why would I do this?
The key to 'getting' over things in our lives is the realization that the positives far out-weigh the negatives and the good wins everytime in all situations that we find ourselves in.
If I did not have cancer, I would not have met Freddy. If I never met Freddy, I would not have ostriches. If I did not have ostritches, I would never have realized how fascinating......you get the picture?
I beat cancer and in some small way, cancer also beat me.
It beat the pessimistic nature I had a little bit of a few years ago. It beat the self-doubt that I had a little bit of. It beat the 'what ifs' that I had coursing through my mind a long time ago.
Not many people get second chances. Most see the tires of the bus before becoming flattended.
That's it and then you're dead.
I went to the brink and stood on the edge and then finally backed away from the edge and am forever grateful for doing so.
I also realized that about a year ago was when I met Fred and my life completely changed. heheh
Coincidence? probably not. :)
First off, cancer update.
No cancer in ass anymore. Hank has now vacated the building and I hope pretty much everyday that he does not EVER, EVER come back into my ass again....:) (yup, i'm still doing ass jokes almost 2 years after having had anal cancer)
January was my last 'check-me-up' and all is well.
It still amazes me though that having a finger up your ass and blood draws is pretty much enough to render you, 'cancer free' for another year. (unless I become symptomatic). YIKES
Walking into the cancer clinic is still a daunting task though. I still have trouble walking by all of the bald people hacking up lungs and wondering 'what' I did to get immediately over it and so far, not have it come back?
Am I a better person than they are? Probably not.
Did I do some great deed for someone that gave me a 'get out of jail free' card? Well, that I might have but doubt that it would warrant the blessing I received.
They say the only thing stopping you from realizing your dreams is faith and hope. I don't believe this anymore as I saw first-hand people in the clinic that you could plainly see as fighting like hell to stay in whatever life they had.
A year later, what have I learned from having cancer. (almost 2 years now in fact)
1. Be who you are and say what you feel. Those that matter won't mind and those that mind don't really matter. Profound but true.
2. Do everything you want to do today. Have a bit of faith in yourself and look around you and quietly think for a minute 'what if you don't have tomorrow?'
3. There is a siver-lining in every dark cloud in the sky. I can so attest to this.
4. Laugh and jump and hug people more. Be nicer to people you see. Say hi to make someone's day. Help someone out or at least offer to. Shut up and listen. If you are not listening, you are not learning.
Ok, now that I've done the 'profound' beadyism, an update on my life in point form.
What a difference a year makes.
1. I went from a single mom with 2 small kids to living on a big, 'kick-ass' acerage where all of the animals that I've ever wanted are happily grazing outside.
2. I went from dating 'smucks' to living with undoubtedly one of the nicest human beings one could ever have the opportunity to meet. (with full legal co-habitation agreement in place I might add. Gotta protect those kidlettes)
3. I went from a single mom to a step mom of 2 other kids. Can you say, 'busy?'
4. I went from a person whom everyone liked to a person Fred's ex would rather see dead. I find it so wrong that not being a 'crack-head' would warrant such loathing.
I choose to take the high road here though and just 'dream' about hollow-point bullets and kick-ass scopes on guns. Good Beady. Good Beady.
5. I go from having periods every month to having not had one in almost 2 years now. At first, it made me somewhat sad. Now, I barely think about it as I'm buying feminine hygiene products for my daughter.
My life is awesome.
The return from Oz was a journey I would not wish on 'anyone'. (even Atilla, the ex).
I will however say that if I could turn back the clock, I'm leave it alone and let it happen all over again. (ground hog day thing)
Why would I do this?
The key to 'getting' over things in our lives is the realization that the positives far out-weigh the negatives and the good wins everytime in all situations that we find ourselves in.
If I did not have cancer, I would not have met Freddy. If I never met Freddy, I would not have ostriches. If I did not have ostritches, I would never have realized how fascinating......you get the picture?
I beat cancer and in some small way, cancer also beat me.
It beat the pessimistic nature I had a little bit of a few years ago. It beat the self-doubt that I had a little bit of. It beat the 'what ifs' that I had coursing through my mind a long time ago.
Not many people get second chances. Most see the tires of the bus before becoming flattended.
That's it and then you're dead.
I went to the brink and stood on the edge and then finally backed away from the edge and am forever grateful for doing so.
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