Another shitty day in Paradise-or whatever

Well, it is Tuesday-and I'm not dead yet. That must be a good sign-of what, I don't know. I've had a fairly dire few days. I was always someone who would eat like a horse when under stress, or when anything went south. But this time was different; I completely lost my appetite. I'm pushing myself to eat-I know I need all my strength for the operation.

Somehow I always manage to find humor in situations that are just complete crap. So when my friend in Pennsylvania called me and said that she got my email and started to cry, I made a few jokes to try to cheer her up. What am I supposed to say when people ask how I am? I've got cancer, how are you? That is a real conversation killer!!

I hibernated for a few days, and then decided to go to the Unitarian Church on Sunday. Maureen (in PA) said I should call the Baptists and get them to help-they are so zealous, they would fall all over themselves to hold prayer meetings, bring food-I think they might draw the line at cleaning my house and doing my laundry, unfortunately. So there goes that idea, right down the toilet. Anyway, I am persona non grata there, since I haven't been to a service since October. And I don't intend to go back, so what is the point? Some people only offer support to people who are diehard Baptists-I'm a diehard...uh....who knows? Who cares?

I was glad to be in the company of people who don't shove Christianity, original sin, etc, etc down my throat. When it came time for lighting candles (every week people light candles of joy or despair, or just light a candle and say nothing. Cool - no religion comes into it at all). I nearly wept. I surprised myself-I thought I was handling the cancer scenario so well up to then. And people came up to me during coffee hour and offered both commiserations and support.

Andy took me to lunch after the coffee hour. He sat me down and ordered me to have a pizza, saying that I need to eat, and I should eat protein and build myself up for the surgery. Trust me when I say that pizza is something I rarely turn down. After all, it is good for you: something from every food group.

We talked cancer, and I told him about the CVID. Now, Andy was a biochemist before he became a minister, so he understood the mechanics of CVID. He was so shocked, he just asked how on earth I survived this long. How did you live to adulthood without anyone diagnosing this? he asked. Oh, I must just be a walking, talking miracle. As long as I don't turn into a walking, talking, drooling miracle, I'm fine with it.

Knee surgery has been delayed until August. The mastectomy will happen before the end of May (I think). I still have to move everything from the big storage unit into a smaller one closer to home-and that was scheduled for this weekend before I even considered that I might have cancer. Who would have thought??

Life will be busy (and stressful!) for awhile, and I will go ahead with the storage move-it will keep my mind off cancer. I'm finally getting my head around it. Now here is the thing: people will vomit platitudes galore, like: God never gives you more than you can handle (total cosmic-sized bullshit if there ever was any), and you always get what you deserve (more bullshit, delivered by some halfwit who clearly never had a life), or trust me, it will all be fine, whatever happens. I love that one: spoken by someone who never had cancer, or any life threatening condition, but probably drove everyone else around him/her into an early grave.

I'm at the point where I can say (truthfully) to people who really piss me off: I have cancer. Back off. Better yet, fuck off. Try it. I recommend it. It's highly satisfying. Just only do it to people who are smaller, or older, or less healthy than you are. Or be prepared to duck. And run.

Humor helps. Being terminally depressed is worse than the cancer itself. I'm very lucky that I actually took myself to the doctor to have the lump checked out; if I'd waited much longer, I would be in really deep trouble. Like my GP said, if all people can see is the stick, or a flat chest, or lack of balance, and occasional wonky eyesight, they aren't worth my time and effort. Anyone going through any of this, please keep that in mind: people who don't see you for the person you are inside are too shallow to even think about. Dismiss them. Or shoot them (never mind, they aren't worth a bullet anyway).

Personally, I'm going to play a card I've never played (even though I had cancer before, I never did this. Too bad, too!). I'm going to my local deli and say "I've got cancer. So put more cream cheese on my bagel".

I'll let you know if it works.