No Foolin'

Interns. Residents. Medical Students. How many pairs of eyes and hands have been on me this past week? They say you can never be too rich or too far down on the table. Well, let me tell you, my wealth is not found in my wallet.

I suppose by now, I should be able to suffer foolish questions as well as the fools that ask them. But when you are sitting in a tiny room on a table with stirrups, inside a grand and beautiful building that has the word CANCER in big bold letters on the sign out front, don't trifle with me. If it just so happens to be the first day of your rotation as a first year med student, and you end up in MY room, bring your A game. Not with the notepad you swiped from the "Olive Garden" waiter that served you last night so you could write down every third word I say as you mutter "ok, ok, ok, ok, ok...." like Leo Getz from "Lethal Weapon" while I say words you either never heard OR forgot immediately. Either go eat the sandwich you were thinking about the entire time you were supposed to be evaluating me OR go take a nap. I suppose I should feel bad that the door didn't close all the way before I said to my Mother in a not at all cryptic way, "Well, HE was a DUD." But I don't.

Ends Well

I like my cardiologist. He is an amiable guy. He gets most of my jokes. Understands that my visits are full of sarcasm and silliness. So, today when we had my yearly check-in and I told him of my recent diagnosis, he was supportive and just the right amount of silly....until I was leaving. He said, "Ok, so if all goes well I'll see you back here in six months." Huh? If all goes well? Is that the standard goodbye now in the cardiology department and no one alerted me? Should we all be saying this, at the end of phone calls and Sunday dinners? "If all goes well in the bathroom, I'll see you for dessert." If all goes well. Yeah, if all goes well in the car ride home. If all goes well on my brother's plane ride to South Korea. If all goes well when you're eating in your home alone. Anytime, could be the last time we talk to someone, see someone. We say "I'll call you right back" or "see you later" but who knows when that is the time when it all goes wrong? If all goes well, you tell those you love that you love them every time you see them, every time you hear them. My heart doesn't need a doctor to tell me it would break if I lost any more of my loved ones. If all goes well huh?

I woke up this morning and the first thought to flash across my mind was " I have cancer." Not some song that has wormed its way into my brain and has been repeating itself for two days as usual, not the last remnants of the dream I was having, not even that I had to pee. No, it was that I have cancer. I have been pressing on my abdomen, closing my eyes and trying to sense it. Those not so friendly cells on my cervix boring down and into me. But I can't. I wait for something to move, pinch maybe and then I will know better that what my sweet and sincere doctor told me is right. But even now, even though I cry, and cry, it seems so impossible, and cruel. Not one more thing.

Then again, why not? Why not my underutilized and good for nothing womanhood? Use it or lose it (and we all know I haven't used it in eleven years.) The culmination of events, or lack there of. I don't know how I am going to deal with this yet, too many ifs, too many scare factors and my imagination and ability to ask questions is great. My brother just stated that I am a strong person. Which, frankly startled me. I don't feel particularly strong, not right now for sure. I have no doubt, that I will be weak, needy, a massive boob, make jokes, make more jokes, cry and cry and cry. I may get negative, down and sad, but I know it all comes from the fear of never being able to trust my body. Damn this thing. I suppose, the one thing I can trust it to do is to betray me. At least, it has been consistent on that front.

I once had a friend that blamed negative events in your life on all of the negative thoughts you ever had, all of the negative energy you put into the world, just rebounds back onto you and that explains, it all. Childhood deformities, tsunamis, rapes, genocide, that is deserved and generated upon each individual through their own negative energy. I am so grateful to not have a person like this in my life anymore, and to have the wonderful, loving, understanding and supportive friends and family that I do have. Also, my Mom is the best Mom that has ever been, in all of existence.

I don't know how many more days the first thought across my mind will be that I have cancer. I also don't know if I'll ever get to Paris. My bunnies love to be fed by hand, my hands. I know that.

Rules for the hospital room if I were to be unconscious/in a coma.

1. No Fox News.

2. No political talk, at all.

3. No racist talk.

4. No arguing or meanness.

5. No REO Speadwaggon.

6. No Air Supply.


Do's


Do tell dirty, dirty jokes.

Do laugh, loudly.

Do sing and hum.

Hold my hand.

Top Ten Reasons Bunnies are Better than Men

1. A rabbit will never cheat on you.
(If you are a person that considers a rabbit to have committed adultery, then your problems are greater than any blog list, or even a psychiatrist could help.)

2. A rabbit will never lie to you.

3. Bunnies never watch porn on the computer while you sleep.

4. Rabbits never get addicted to alcohol, drugs or any other substances ( OK, hay, really good quality hay.)

5. A bunny would never give you an STD. (see qualifier from number one.)

6. Rabbits never leave you in financial lurches, forcing you into bankruptcy.

7. Bunnies never want the remote control, unless it is to chew it.

8. Bunnies are cleaner.

9. Bunnies are cuter.

10. Bunnies don't leave until they die.



4 Reasons Men are Better than Bunnies

1. They can carry heavy shit for you.

2. They can open jars.

3. They can fix things ( this is of course conditional, some bunnies can actually be more help hooking up the DVR or building a bookcase than certain men.)

4. You can hold onto a man at a Haunted House when you get scared.

Standing in line at the customer care at Smith's, two very loud, very obnoxious and no chinned people stand behind me. Too close. You know the type. Redneck to the core, the male of the couple starts talking in his version of his baby talk to his paramour and points out the obvious around us "wook at the booberry donuts, wook at the big horsie, wooky a puppy." Yeah, this goes on and on. They crowd, they bump into things. They make me happy I am single and wish for world wide sterilization protocols. All the while this misfortune is occurring, a tiny little man is trying to send $200 to Mexico and the woman trying to help him, that has obviously never done it before, is flustered. He is patient, I am patient, but she needs help. She calls overhead, no help comes. She reads aloud the words on the screen, Spanish words, which is why she is confused. The little man helps her, and here is where the story turns to rednecks with no chins and me with a big mouth. The no chinned redneck opens his yawing trap and says "People that don't speak English in America need to be shot." I jump up, around, yell out "What?! There is a man right there and he is trying to send money to Mexico! Did you really just say that?" He at first gives me a little "hmmmm," you just say something to me and tried to stand up taller, then I turned on him again. "Really? You say that here? In front of this man?" I look at the little man, who is trying his hardest, I mean hardest not to cry. He is small, with gray bushy eyebrows that are now covering the reddest eyes. He is bent and so sad in what is either a janitor's or mechanic's uniform. I turned back to the imbecile who has backed away from me now and is muttering about computers that have Spanish on them, and buttons. I shake my head violently and that is the end of it. I complete my business and when I walk past the little man, I lean forward and tell him I hope he has a wonderful day. He tells me thank you very much. Customer care. I am learning Spanish so I can push numero dos, just for the hell of it.