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.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
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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