Costco Rotisserie Chicken, Anyone?

Who am I kidding? I’m scared to death. Weird thing, nobody wants to listen and “I’m here for you” means – I will tell you to stay positive. I’m one of the most positive people I know, but fuck – I’m allowed to be scared and mad and freaked out and thinking dark thoughts – they go with the territory.


I really should have been typing my thoughts instead of writing in my head the last few weeks. There is so much I will forget. I am not sure anything in my head warrants sharing – but, so many things have changed since I typed that paragraph.

I was afraid. Until the next ugly thing happened. I was worried about my lab results. Those fuckers. Let’s just say – it’s in my nodes. (which I am delivering in Chloe’s panic and drama in Pitch Perfect)  I meet with an oncologist next week. Which is a sentence I never wanted to speak. So, either fear has given way to acceptance (and therefor fight) or I’m still out of my fucking mind. Which do you think is true?

Cancer isn’t funny. But, why all the support? What if I’d been told I had diabetes? Lupus? COPD? High blood pressure? A heart condition? None of these things need to sign your death certificate – but, most of them will. Cancer kills people too. But, we are living longer at an alarming rate. We are more worried about living longer and therefor running out of resources on our planet than we are about fixing it, but I digress.

First – the speed at which my medical insurance is responding is fantastic. My family and friends have been so amazingly supportive – I feel undeserving. My children. OMG my kids If you ever want to know if your little assholey teenagers love you – get cancer. Wow. The pit viper has beens sleeping with me. Wow!

Here is where I am: I’ve been given notice – life is short. You were on fire with your writing and goals a few years ago. Time to get back in gear. I’ve been slowly gaining progress in the health and exercise department. Well now, you know. I’ve got too much to do before I leave this universe. Also – the absolute worst part of having a boob removed so far? No hiding the fat. I used to look down at my big boobs and that was all I could see. I didn’t love looking in the mirror but, i was okay. Now. omg now, there is a dent where my boob used to be. I look like a Costco rotisserie chicken with one breast removed. And as my eyes glide over that pretty picture, I see my more than thin belly. I don’t like it. It is going away. It is long since time, anyway.

Something I am feeling now is that I am not really thinking I will reconstruct. I am not sure why that is where I am but, it is. I’m thinking super fucking cool tattoo. When I told my dad – my poor old dad – he was sure to let me know that I don’t need a tattoo.  Parents are so funny.

So – I was wanting to see my friends more especially during the holidays – guess what? I wanted a private secretary – got that too. I wanted to know if my kids loved me. Check. I wanted to eat better, be more focused on my health not that I’m older…check and double check. I could go on and on about all the things cancer has given me. But, I wonder what is really going to be the thing I take with me when this is over.

Or – I could be in the biggest state of denial there ever fucking was.


Baby, This is Ridiculous

So, they are calling to ban Baby It’s Cold Outside. As some of you know, I’m into music the way some people are into other things. I’ve been thinking that a lot of our songs are going to be on the banned pile. An old song (and maybe popular?) I have in heavy rotation is All American Boy by Y&T. Perhaps because they are local or because I may or may not have crushed on a past band member……mostly, the song reminds me of high school. But, every time I hear it, I recognize the dilemma.

The first verse is total high school

I‘ve got a 57’ Chevy with four on the floor, Glass packs, Chester slicks, 454, Girls on the phone, girls at my door, They just keep comin’ back for more, I’m just a red-blooded, fun-lovin’ all American boy.

I was a boy crazy teen…I drove a cool old Cutlass with a 350 – I understand glasspacks and 454. If they had used Centerlines instead of cheater slicks….could have been about me. It was a bouncy and fun and reminds me of simpler music and simpler times.

I’ve got a big Stratocaster and my band is hot, Wild streak a mile wild that just won’t stop, Got a chain on my mirror made of beer can tops, A chip on my shoulder, better not knock it off,  ‘m just a red-blooded fun-lovin’ all American boy.

I had the same chain and one made out of gum wrappers. But, this boy sounded like everyone I knew.

Well her eyes are blue and her skin is tan, The girl looks to me, thinks that I’m all hands, And I’m gonna touch her everywhere I can, I’m just a red-blooded fun-lovin’ all American boy.

This, too reminded me of my childhood – although, I haven’t heard anyone call anyone all hands in the last few decades.  But, there it is, “I’m gonna touch her everywhere I can.” A lot of your dates in high school were fighting hands. And, some…..well, I welcomed those hands. Touching you, touching me. (see what I did there?)

I can name 5 worse songs:

  1. Walk on the Wild Side
  2. Brown SugarUnder My Thumb
  3. My all time favorite – Kung Fu fighting
  4. Everything by the Knack and most things by hard rock bands

And that is just off the top of my head….

I don’t think we need to ban anything. People should get to make their own choices. Those songs were allowed. Nobody cared about the lyrics then and the bands were just trying to get around the censors. Look how far we’ve come that we can recognize all the things wrong with these songs. But, please don’t take my childhood away. Wait until I’m dead and gone and then remove whatever you want – the way history continues to do. Plus, where will we stop? Why do we need more legislation to tell us what not to listen to?

But, what do I know? I’m still angry with the PMRC.

Take My Boobs – Please!

Take them. I don’t need them. They are sooo big. I have been saying this for years whenever the topic of breast cancer came up. Talk about getting what you ask for. I have never been particularly proud of or in love with my breasts. They are huge. They get in my way. They are hard to dress and – they are heavy.

But, things sure change when the situation is real and not maybe or if. Soooo…..a few weeks ago, I noticed a flat spot on my right breast. I called the doc. They got me in immediately. Doc wasn’t worried, but it was time (actually a little overdue) for my mammo. So, I got a mammo on Friday. And a call from the doc on Monday – can you come in Tuesday for more images? Sure. Tuesday – mammo, ultrasound, and a biopsy. Wednesday – the call. “Are you driving?”  WTF? RUFKMRN? I have cancer? I have cancer? How in the fuck did that happen?

I really don’t live in the state of denial. I believe that knowledge is power and the more I have, the better my decisions can be. I also tend to be a worrier. Before the call, I was maybe 10% worried. Because – no other symptoms, no history in the family. But, I was not ready at all for the doctor to ask me if I was driving and then suggest I pull over. Well – the news should be fantastic, then – right?

Age has brought me many things – one is the knowing that things can change in a minute. A phone call can turn your life into “before the phone call” and “after the phone call” And the amount of crazy things that run through your head when you hear something like this….how will I tell the kids? What if they freak out? Chemo? Radiation? The doc just discussed lumpectomy and within a few hours, I was wondering if double mastectomy is what I needed. Wow….not so sure I was ready to get rid of my boobs. Life is a funny thing. Be careful what words come out of your mouth – you really might have to eat them later.  

I also was composing blogs in my head and wishing I had my laptop. I don’t expect to spend the next few months writing about this – but, you know, I probably fucking will.

Fuck. I have cancer. Life is just a series of experiences, right? This is one more I get to have. The first time I said that about an unpleasant situation was when i got a divorce. I told one of my closest friends – hey it’s just one more experience I get to have. Her reply? Yeah – some experiences, I would rather not have. Roger that.

You don’t always get a choice, do you? A few years ago, a friend had a cancer scare – I call it the ten minutes she had cancer. She had an abnormal pap and a hysterectomy. No other treatment. Now she is fine. Anyway – when she was telling people – she said – “I’m ready to die”. Hmmm that pissed me off then and now. I am not “ready” to die. But, my relationships are good and all words have been exchanged. But, I have way too much to do to be ready to die now. And at the very least – my kids need me.

The stages of growing up: I can’t wait to move out. I can eat ice cream for dinner. Buying appliances. Having kids. Divorce. And, then – the big effing C (or whatever life changing disease you may have.

A few things have been ridiculously hard since this whole thing started. One of them is telling people. It sucks. Knowing you are going to suck the wind out of their day. Told my dad – that hurt. Told one of my closest friends. She was having such a great, carefree day.  I blurted it out to a coworker today. She was irritated – “you can’t just drop this on someone like that.” I hear you – maybe when I have had a chance to figure it out, I will be better at it. I’ve been wondering how to get the news out. I’ve also been wondering when my friends might read my blog. Ha – I can kill 2 birds this way.