I think I wrote about my cancer making a return appearance. Having to go back into chemo, different drugs etc…the drugs seem to be slowly working, but it’s not kicking ass and taking names this time around. It’s more like inquiring softly, with a lavendar scented pen.
“Pardon me…are you a cancer cell? No? I’m so sorry, pardon my intrusion, have you seen one? Oh really? Just over there? If you’ll excuse me…Hello! You ARE a cancer cell? Could I, perhaps, see you’re invitation? Yes, yes it IS invitation only I’m afraid…’
It’s left me totally exhausted, mentally and physically. Another summer down the toilet. It’s just hard to do anything. Even sitting in bed, lying on the couch, sitting outside, it’s all so tiring. I was reduced to online shopping for pants! Ladies out there, I KNOW you feel my pain…couldn’t even try them on and the colour is never what they say it is…I settled finally on purple pants…just sheer exhaustion forced my hand. Purple pants. They can be pulled off by many people. GET your mind out of the gutter! I only meant that certain people can pull off certain ‘looks’. I am attempting to join those ranks. The ranks of people who wear coloured pants and pretend they wanted them and it wasn’t a case of ‘the only pair left in your size.
And the other thing, since I’m going to be crabbing anyway, are the docs, not so much my oncologist, I think she knows that if she suggested any such thing I’d kick her in the shin with my good foot…but other docs and healers, and friends, them too, truth be told, who tell me that I should ‘get up and get some exercise, walk and stay active!’.
(DAMN IT, that was hard as hell to punctuate and I’m NOT going back to check and see if it’s correct. I just don’t care, not right now. Anyway… )
You gotta be kidding me? So I feel this way because I’m lazy? I want to? I can fight off this feeling of exhaustion? REPAIR the damage to my feet?! This is MY FUCKING FAULT?! Are you telling me that if I’d only show a little spirit, I’d feel like taking the dog for a run on the beach? If I weren’t so damned lazy and stubborn I could go out there in the sun and play badminton and weed my garden and THEN go grocery shopping and make a fabulous dinner and head out to the casino and dance til they close. Just like I used too? Well, hell…if only I’d known.
Yeah…some anger there. It sucks and it’s kind of boring. It’s very unmotivational, having cancer. I mean, don’t get me wrong, some cancer fighters seem to leap to their feet and run marathons! WTF? I can’t.
But then I couldn’t before.
Some of them have masses of people in their lives who are always joining cancer runs and showing up with kooky cheerleader outfits or organizing benefits and selling quilts or funny hats or something cute and wacky. AND THEN THEY GIVE THE MONEY AWAY!? Shit….
I’m jealous of them, acutally. It looks like fun. Like, those people are great! At the same time, I think to myself ‘Argh…how long would they STAY? Would they want lunch? I’d have to wash that couch pillow Ryka threw up on again. It still has a mark. Stoopid cat. And she’d probably do that butt washing thing…where she is sitting all elegant, looking off in the distance and then with a galvanic jerk suddenly glares at her ass and starts washing it furiously.’
(This is usually just after someone remarks how tiny and sweet looking she is…if they only knew.)
But seriously? Fundraisers? I’d say don’t give the money to research…give it to me. At least some of it, for gawds sake, it drives me CRAZY to see those famous people raising money for cancer research. Millions of dollars and I’m sitting here with a stack of bills, a fridge full of crap food and purple pants! In an orange room…picture that, assholes. It ain’t pretty.
Hah! I’d know how to spend it. I’d fix my motorcycle for one thing. And get new tires for my car before I skid off the road. And a tune up. I’d pay off those phone people so they can go and harass someone else who is better at fighting with them. I just agree with them…
‘It’s terrible, I know. I SHOULD give you money. When can I? Hmmmm….I think I should be able to start working full time at some point and you ARE on the list…it’s a long list…I KNOW! It’s terrible. Not only that, it’s pretty long and I’m sort of selfish. Yes, those doctors don’t work for free…nope, I don’t either. I like working for money. Yes, it would be annoying if they didn’t pay me. But they do. Just enough to barely get by…You aren’t in the money loop here. Unless you’re a corn dog and I can eat you. No, I’m not trying to be funny. I mean it. I’d have to say, urm…next April? I usually get a check from Grandma. We could split it.’
Yeah, fundraising. I wish people would fundraise for ME. The Run for Laura. That one would be all the people getting dressed like pirates and running from bar to bar and pounding a beer and a shot and then OUT, to the next bar, full tilt, waving swords…Yes…they could buy a punch card and everytime they hit a bar and pound one back they get a punch. Doing a shot also? that gets you two extra punches. Who ever gets the most punches AND makes it over the finish line without throwing up too much wins a fridge that doesn’t leak.
And if you live in a small town, like Canal Flats, that only has one bar you could just periodically all run out of the bar and around the block waving your swords, maybe run into someones house and capture a person eating cheese doodles and make them a prisoner. Until they joined.
Seriously…I’d make a good pirate. I’d even switch to dark beer.
Or Laura's Place. They could raise money so I could have the carpets cleaned and a fridge that doesn't leak. And maybe paint my bedroom so it isn't school bus orange. That would be nice. And Liza would love a clothes line. I don't know why. It rains so much here…
No, that's thinking small…Laura's Place would be nice little pied e terre's or however those fancy frogs call a 'foot on the earth', you know, nice little one or two bedroom places, maybe with a fold out couch, so you could bring someone and cancer people could go to that city for a vacation. Watch Monday Night Football from someones lake house in Minnesota or Coral Gables Florida. Maybe eat some good bbq.
Gawd forbid that I actually get to see Venice or Athens or Sydney before I die.
Here’s a pic of me on my way to chemo, thinking about all the FUN I’m going to have when I get there. C’mon, for once can you assholes get it together and donate to the people who need it and NOT to some frickin’ hospital research place? They have plenty of money to fuck around with and it wouldn’t cost a million dollars to give me a vacation, would it?
That’s right, celebrities! All you pricks out there doing commercials for cancer and getting paid for your time at about a million dollars an hour, (or even if you donate your time-I KNOW you either have a vacation house or you KNOW someone who does and who would loan it to you for a couple days) how about YOU?! All I’m asking is for a break. Just a fricking quiet little mini break from all my woes. I’m not some frat loser scum who’s going to trash your house. In fact Liza is as neat as a pin and she’d be coming along so…
Or WAIT, if not that, how about you just throw me a bone and give me a chance to get out of these horrible clothes and wear something decent? A make over would be lovely. Maybe some shopping for a pair of jeans that fit.
Or the sports stars? Hey, RIchard Sherman?! How about 3 tickets to see the SeaHawks play? You know what? I can’t afford to pay $300 for a cheap seat…seriously. You gotta be kidding…and they sell out? Or better yet, how about a chance to see the Super Bowl, or the Indy 500 or even a frickin’ hockey game. I’d take it.
GIVE us a frickin’ VACATION asshole researchers! Ever think of that?! That maybe sitting around being sick is boring and making us sick?! Sickness is really boring and boredom is debilitating. I am still sucking on the fumes of my first vacation in 10 years and that was a year ago.
I went to see The Americas Cup Race in San Francisco. Sick as hell, bald as an egg (well, a fuzzy egg…eww) and I LOVED it. I swam in my brothers pool, went to the fabulous art museums in SF (clicking my cane and wondering why there aren’t more seats?) and got lost in Oakland and ended up crying under a freeway overpass near the dockyards (dangerous and yet sort of pathetic) I wouldn’t rent any more cars. Chemo brain, and all that.
Laura’s Place would supply you with a volunteer driver who knows how to get around San Francisco or Kansas City or where ever. Mini vacations…C’mon Rich Bastards! There’s gotta be a place you aren’t using. Donate a week and some airfare, maybe a fridge of food and feel good about your conspicuous comsumption fucked up fake life for a second. In fact if you are reading this and you have a nice place in San Diego or New Orleans, don’t be a dick…just loan it to me. I swear I won’t call you a dick.
And I’ll leave Ryka at home.