Square Peg

Two and a half years ago, I was deep in the middle of treatment. I had lost my hair for the second time in a year, had gained 25 pounds (talk about adding insult to an injury!) , felt weak, and just GROSS frankly. I decided it was time to do something, anything to take back what was mine. I lived for many years in a great mountain town, working for the newspaper, and working with a great bunch of misfits, freaks, and geniuses. Every year there is a Race For the Cure in the little town and I went up to participate along with my best friend, her little girl and about 10 friends who still live there. The day before the Race, I walked around town visiting some old friends and went to pick up my race shirt and numbers. I picked up the shirt and my heart just SANK. It was the ugliest, most depressing Tshirt I have ever seen. Like cancer is not bad enough, I am going to have to wear this piece of crap. It was super ugly pink and had these creepy funereal doves with the saying "on the wings of a dove..." or some such dreck. I was talking to a local gal who is also a Survivor (and whose husband cheated on her while she went through treatment-can you BELEIVE that?! ) and she agreed they were UGLY. She wanted to wear one that said "f*ck cancer and f*ck Scott too". I really wished we could have had some made but the organizers would probably not dig it.

I managed to get a local guy to airbrush a tshirt for me that says CANCER SUCKS and on the back it says cckma- which he said means either "cancer can't kick my ass" or "cancer can kiss my ass" . Either one was fine with me.
The morning of the race was beatiful and all my gals showed up in fine form. The majority of those I passed high fived me on the Tshirt. It's true, cancer does suck.

It was a 5k which is nothing unless you have had 12 rounds of chemo. The after-ceremony was bizarre and I felt like I was being initiated into a cult. They had all the survivors stand on a stage in front of everyone and wave these pink roses. All the Survivors knew the words to some song they were singing and started swaying. For anyone who knows me-this is my idea of a nightmare. I was laughing /crying. My friends were split-"Is she overwhelmed by the emotion?" My best friend was laughing hysterically and told them " No- she is freaking out, someone go get her" This may seem crass but I think it is just as crass to dress up the leading cancer killer of women in pink and act like it is a creepy sorority.

I went back to my place and slept for 10 hours.


The reason I am dredging all this back up is that my friend , # 761 in the pic, is on her last journey from this world right now. She was diagnosed with esophageal cancer last February and is 35 years old. Cancer is a horrible disease.

Friday night at the ER

I have been trying to take a vacation from cancer and see how it fares........apparantly this is a foolish notion as I lost a very good friend and another girl who was a cancer acquaintance-both young and it is still too painful to talk about. So instead, I will tell the tale of the 80 year old woman who has possessed me and is giving me all her creepy old lady diseases. I should have known sooner, I had pleurisy at the age of 10 when I got home from 2 weeks at freezing wet camp. Then I had gastroenteritis at 20! I mean, who even knows what these conditions ARE at that age?

Friday night, I am hunkered down, watching On Demand at my house sitting gig. My upper back starts aching as does my upper abdomen. I swam fairly hard that day so I thought maybe I tweaked my back and took a hot bath but it still was hurting and felt worse. I was having this dilemma of "Does this really hurt or am I being a wuss? Is it getting worse or am I imagining it? Should I go to the Dr or just try and go to sleep?" I could not get comfortable and decided to stretch out my back which did NOT help. I soon began thinking I should just go to the ER because I could sleep if I couldn't lie down. I made a couple calls and couldn't get any family or friends on the phone so I drove myself. It started REALLY hurting and I ended up going through red lights like a mad woman. I get to the ER, they get me right in, thankfully. Getting an IV in was a nightmare, as usual, but the pain medication helped for a while. I had lidocaine-GROSS beyond imagination, x rays, a CT scan, and they couldn't find anything. Around noon the next day, they gave me a sonogram and decided I have gallstones. Gallstones?! I am officially 80 years old. I am in a holding pattern until next week to see if the gall bladder goes. Whatever.

The good news is: It is NOT cancer!!!!!! I was so happy to have those scans to let me know that NO, cancer is NOT everywhere in my liver. And after a little investigation, I have learned that there is actually a market for human gallstones somewhere in Asia and I am not above an Ebay auction. The mind reels with the possibilities.