Gun nuts

I hear you knocking but you can't come in

I'm still thinking about the Chuck Grassley video I posted below. He's arguing that the right to bear arms was granted by God and he quotes the most famous line from Declaration of Independence as support:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

Gun ownership is an unalienable right endowed by our Creator? For the sake of argument, let's say I buy that whole story about how God created the earth and the heavens and man and beast. I don't remember anything about God saying "Let there be guns" or "Be fruitful and bear arms."

Did I miss that part?

God didn't create guns - man did. You can argue man made guns to defend himself, which may be an unalienable right. Man also created the atomic bomb to defend himself. Does that mean we have the unalienable right to bear nukes? What about airplanes? Did God grant the unalienable right to bear airplanes straight into skyscrapers in Manhattan?

Just asking.

(Thanks for the picture, Remus.)

Quote of the day

"So it's all those other guys that suck and not us?"

- Sen. Lindsay Graham to Supreme Court Nominee Elena Kagan

Sen. Chuck Grassley - baffling and baffled

For the Seattle Fiend

Kevin Sorbo. Because even though I stopped caring about naked men, you still love them. Happy hump day.

Don't hassel the Hoff - or his leopards

What do David Hasselhoff, Joel L, Meryl Streep, Nancy R, Lt. Uhura, Kim S, a school bus, my cat and somebody's pet monkey have to do with me having cancer?

Nothing. I just threw the cancer in there because nowadays it all comes down to cancer. But everything else was in the dream I had Sunday morning.

Nancy R was a friend I met at Adult Children of Alcoholics but in my dream she was played by Meryl Streep. Kim S was my friend in grade school. She had the whitest skin this side of an albino but in my dream she was played by Zoe Saldana who played Lt. Uhura in the new Star Trek. Joel L was a guy I knew in high school. He was played by himself.

We were riding on a school bus to tour the schools in the county where I grew up. Joel and I were protesting the principal's decision to hire young, inexperienced and stupid teachers whom he instructed to pretend to be siblings so their students would like them better. Nancy a.k.a. Meryl was protesting our protest. Kim/Uhura/Zoe was an innocent bystander.

The tour ended at a former movie theater that was converted to classrooms. The bus left Joel and Zoe and me behind. We decided to walk home along a gravel road out in the country. It was very dark. Joel lagged while he tried to call a friend for a ride on his cell phone but Kim and I went ahead. We were hiding in a garage at a farm house. We thought we heard Joel coming down the hill so we went out to meet him.

But it was David Hasselhoff (played by David Hasselhoff dressed like Indiana Jones) leading two bloodhounds and two leopards on leashes. He was hunting bear. Zoe and I saw the cubs and heard the mama roar so we dived into a ditch.

We were huddled together trying to protect ourselves and my cat Jasmine and Zoe's pet monkey who would be tasty treats for the leopards. Because everyone knows Hasselhoff's leopards are more dangerous than bears. Two other women and their children joined us in the ditch. One of them said "What are we hiding from?" I said, "There's a B-E-A-R." "What?"

And Meryl Streep said "Bear. There's a bear." One of the kids screamed.

There was also a scene where I was singing a duet with Ozzy Osbourne at the county fair. He said I was valiant.

But that's a whole other dream.

I must be manic

I feel really good today. Lots of energy. I saw my psych doc this morning and talked a mile a minute then went to Walmart and bought a few groceries and about $30 worth of houseplants, pots and soil mix.

I justified the splurge by telling myself I want to be surrounded by living things. Ever since my aunt and uncle sent me flowers, I've been wanting to buy flowers for myself. But they're already dead. Plants are better.

Also, it's a compromise. I bought plants instead of getting birds. The cage I bought last week is going to the flea market.

On the way home when I turned onto my street, I thought "I really love my neighborhood." It's full of lush trees and well-kept lawns, a nice working class area, mostly single family homes. And I love my apartment with a view.

I've been watching HGTV almost every night and getting all kinds of ideas for things to do to fix up my place. I bought a cute bookshelf last week for $4 at a thrift store. It needs to be sanded and painted then it'll be the perfect fit for the corner between my living room windows - the perfect spot for my new plants.

The only sour note is I overdid it this weekend and now my chemo port really hurts. I can't reach across my body with my right arm without a sharp pang. Putting on deodorant or pulling a t-shirt over my head - ouch. The last thing I should be doing is sanding and painting a bookshelf. Maybe getting the port on my right side wasn't such a brilliant idea.

I think I'm going to start a mini quilt project. That's something I should be able to do without putting too much strain on my chest.

Wel ... glub glub glub

That's Spring Lake Park in Cherokee, IA. We went there for picnics when I was a kid. There's record flooding in my area after a couple of nights of thunderstorms and tornadoes.

I had an aunt who lived in Cherokee when I was growing up. She lived right next to the river so every spring, we'd go help her move stuff out of the basement. I remember at least once when the whole first floor of her house got flooded with stinky, slimy sludge.

There's nothing quite like the smell of an Iowa river. Mmm. Hog shit. Cow shit. Agrichemical delights.

Drunks, terrorists, gators & a gratuitious mention of Robert Redford

Time for some quickies:

• Panera Bread opened a restaurant in Missouri where you can pay whatever you want for their overpriced food. It was an experiment intended to help the poor get a good meal. The experiment worked - rich people pay extra and poor people eat for free. Now, they hope to make enough profit to support local charities.

• From The Consumerist: Like a big city pimp waiting to pick you up off the ground when times get tough, Walmart was able to establish its first stores in Chicago through guile, perseverance, and a few meaningless reassurances ...

• Fark headline of the day: Customers want money back from bankrupt furniture store, say they're sofa king screwed. (story)

• Some people have no sense of humor.

• A six year old girl is on Homeland Security's no-fly list. Maybe it's because she has such a suspicious name. I mean, Alyssa Thomas. Obviously, she's a terrorist. DHS refuses to take her off because "The watch lists are an important layer of security to prevent individuals with known or suspected ties to terrorism from flying." Don't you feel safer now?

• Speaking of terrorists, an 8 year old boy in Georgia doused his toy plane with gasoline and set it on fire. Now his relatives are fighting government red tape to help him get treatment for the burns he suffered on 80% of his body.

• A woman in Canada got a little pissed when the court awarded her ex-husband custody of their children. So she tried to hire a member of a motorcycle gang to kill him. The bike dude ratted her out. When she got out of prison, the court awarded her $70,000, her half of the couple's property. Ex-hubby doesn't seem to think that's fair.

• Mel Gibson's sexy Russian baby mama says he punched her in the face and knocked her teeth out. The pair have been trading accusations on TMZ all weekend. His biggest fear seems to be that the secret tape she made of him will become public.

• The editor of Philadelphia Magazine resigned from his job after a female co-worker complained that he gave her a framed photo of the cyst that had been removed from his testicle. What, the frame was too much?

• A woman in Indiana opened her door to get her mail one evening to find a guy standing there drinking a beer. He shoved her inside, stole $38 out of her purse and told her to fry him an egg. When she refused, he went in her bedroom and lay down to take a nap.

• Speaking of stupid things people do when they're drunk, a guy in Florida jumped out of a tour boat because he had a lifelong dream of swimming with alligators. Hey, I have a lifelong dream of swimming with Robert Redford but you won't see me jumping into a swamp. Well, okay, maybe if he was naked.

The heat index was over 100 on Saturday

But this is what my back yard looked like last December, when the snow was piled 6 feet high and the trees were coated with ice. I miss December.

The afternoon fade

I felt so much better today but I overdid it. I bought a recliner at Goodwill for $20 then carried it up the steps by myself. I had to do it in stages but I managed. Afterwards I was taking a shower and I suddenly felt so tired and week that I had to sit down in the shower. That's never happened to me before. A little scary.

The recliner is ugly as sin but it's comfortable. This week when I was having so much bone pain, I couldn't find a comfortable place to sit. I hope this solves that problem.

Tonight, I've been watching a "Hoarders" marathon on TLC. Makes me glad I didn't buy anything else at Goodwill.

One down, five to go

I had my first chemo on Monday. As with most bad things in life, the anxiety leading up to it was far worse than the thing itself.

They gave me so many anti-nausea meds that I was in a daze most of the day, then I took more when I got home. Remember the scene in "Dying Young" where Julia Roberts brings the cute rich guy home from chemo and he runs into the bathroom and throws up? Didn't happen. I only had one episode of retching and that was on Wednesday. I took a pill and that was the end of it. I felt a little queasy all week though.

They had warned me certain smells might get to me. You know the one smell that really makes me nauseated? Canned cat food. From now on, the little buggers might get nothing but dry food chemo week.

The oncology nurse in Big City had told me that I'd probably feel the worst 2-3 days after chemo. Jack, the oncology doc here in small town, told me that wasn't true. He lied. Wednesday, Thursday and Friday were by far my worst days. Bone pain. It's hard to describe.

Many years ago when I worked at the mall, I would be on my feet 8-10 hours a day, usually in high heels, and my feet and shins would ache all night. That's what it was like only all my bones and it last 3 days. My shins still hurt a little today.

The very worst symptom I had was a yeast infection on my skin. If you've never had one, consider yourself blessed. Very painful, angry rash under my breasts and belly and in my crotch. It flamed up out of nowhere. Nothing Thursday morning and by Thursday evening, I was crying with pain.

I had an appointment at the cancer center Friday morning for evaluation and thought I'd be able to get an Rx for the yeast. Usually, diflucan gets it under control pretty quickly. (I get yeast infections every time I take antibiotics but never as bad as this one.) But the nurse at the cancer center said I'd have to call my family doctor. My family doctor usually takes Friday afternoons off.

I started to cry so the nurse said she'd talk to Jack. (He told me to call him that but all the staff calls him Dr. Lastname.) He saw me and it was the first time I really liked him. He said when you're on chemo, everything is related to chemo so he was the right doctor to be treating my infection.

It's not gone yet but it's a world of difference between yesterday and today.

And last night, I got the best sleep I've had in months. I've had so much fatigue all week. The one thing I remembered from the lame-ass patient education video they made me watch was that sleep isn't always the best thing for fatigue. Sometimes going for a walk is better than sleep.

Bull shit. I went to Walmart Thursday and Friday night just to walk a little bit. The temp's been in the 90s the last couple of days and it's humid as hell. (Hell is not dry heat, trust me.) Walking completely wore me out and made me feel worse.

Sleep. Sleep is the best treatment for fatigue.

The good news is I lost 10 pounds this week. Lack of appetite. The bad news is the oncology nurse in Big City told me that I'd lose my appetite for a few days then it would come back with a vengeance so I'll probably gain back whatever I lose. She said people usually don't lose weight on chemo anymore.

And all along I thought that even if it didn't cure my cancer at least I'd lose weight. Bummer.

A rare moment of gratitude

These are the flowers my aunt and uncle sent me last month. They looked better a few days before I took the picture. It really touched me that they did that.

As if I needed any more stress

Fucking scumbag drug companies. Fucking scumbag pharmacies. Fucking scumbag doctors.

I had an appointment with my oncologist today. I had to be there at 3 p.m. for labs, then he was supposed to see me at 3:20. He actually saw me at 4:30. He gave me four prescriptions to fill, all of which I'm supposed to take the night before and the morning of my first chemo.

After I saw him, I had to wait for them to enter everything in their computers before they gave me the prescriptions. I went straight to the pharmacy. The pharmacy was really busy so I said I'd come back later.

So I went to the pharmacy tonight - just now returned from there.

My primary insurance refused to pay for one of the drugs. My doctor had told me that would happen but my secondary insurance would cover it. And it would have - if the pharmacy had processed the order before 5 p.m., which they couldn't do since the doctor didn't give it to me until after 5.

The drug costs $400. The pharmacist said he could sell me just one pill but that would be $26 and I need more than one.

The pharmacy can't contact my secondary insurer for approval until Monday morning. My chemo is scheduled for 10:00 a.m. on Monday. I'm supposed to take the pill before I go.

All week I've been looking for an excuse to cancel chemo and crawl into a hole and die. I think I just found my excuse.

Quote of the day

There is something refreshingly honest about these asses. In their utter failure to play the "suck up and pretend contrition" game, they are showing us exactly who they are: people who could not care less about the consequences of their actions as long as they and their cohorts continue to bring in obscene amounts of money.

AIG and Goldman, anyone? How about Enron and Silverado? Why the hell do we keep being shocked! Shocked! when the simple reality of raw capitalism is thrown in our faces yet again?

- a TPM reader's comment on "The 7 Dumbest Things BP Has Said About the Oil Spill - So Far"

3 days till chemo

I'm really, really nervous. I see the oncologist this afternoon. There's still a possibility he'll decide to wait another week if he doesn't think my incisions are healed enough.

Yesterday I got my port inserted. A lot of people say they just had a local anesthetic and were awake for the whole thing. But they put me under completely. I think I prefer it that way. So far, anesthesia has never caused a problem for me. I always feel refreshed the day after I've had it. I guess I know why Michael Jackson liked it so much.

I have lots of pain and swelling around the port. The cancer center is supposed to use it this afternoon for my blood draw. We'll see how that goes.

My wig is perched on top its styrofoam head on a shelf right outside my bathroom. I'm getting used to seeing it now. Am I crazy for holding out the tiniest bit of hope that I'll be one of the 3% who don't lose their hair on carbo-taxol?

The happiest event this week - I got my first follower on Twitter. Today, I got my second. Yay!

Meanwhile, my favorite new meme

D-day

I threw a hissy fit today. The dietitian from the cancer center called me and I ended up going on a rant about everything that I was unhappy with down there, even though none of it was her department. She was a good listener though and she made some phone calls and things got done.

I now have an appointment time with my oncologist - they knew I was supposed to see him this week but they wouldn't tell me a day or time until now.

And - the biggie - they told me my chemo starts on Monday.

All this time I've been pushing to get it started. Now it's five days away. Holy fuck. I'm not ready.

Cheaper than retail therapy

I decided to de-clutter my blog by getting rid of the butterfly background. I should be trying to de-clutter my life.

Today (yesterday now), I went shopping at Goodwill and a Catholic thrift store. I was looking for hats and scarves and wigs but only found one scarf that I liked. It's really hit or miss with that stuff. I picked up a couple of hardcover books and some VHS movies for a buck apiece, plus a few things to sell at the flea market.

Goodwill had 3 really nice bird cages and I had a sudden longing to get some birds. I had zebra finches years ago. I started out with one pair. They laid eggs and two male babies survived to adulthood. When the babies grew up, I put them in separate cages but I let all the birds fly around the apartment during the day. They'd go back to their cages in the evening. After awhile, all four birds decided they wanted to live in the same cage.

My cats and I (Carolina and Casey, now deceased) were very entertained by our birds. The girls were getting old so they'd just lay around and watch them flit from curtain rod to door frame to top shelf. Then I went into one of my deep depressions and couldn't keep up on all the pet care so I sold the finches.

I bought one of the cages today. It was only $4, in good condition, with the original tag still on it for $29.99. I'll probably end up selling it at the flea market but I'm going to hang onto it for awhile.

Maybe if I get through chemo and radiation and get back enough energy to take care of things, I'll reward myself with two new finches.

There I go again. Nowadays, everything leads back to cancer.

Cat puke

This is how my day started. Just thought I'd share.

Quote of the day

Excuse me for sounding like a prude, but we're ladies, for goodness sake! We do not woo our men with bowel movements!

- columnist Lucy Hunt, advising her female readers not to fart in front of their lovers

No more penises on Chatroulette & more

Yesterday when I saw my therapist, she sent an interoffice memo to my psychiatric nurse practitioner telling her about my mood swings and crying jags. This morning, the NP's assistant called and said she wants me to start on a new antidepressant.

Well intended and maybe it will help. What's annoying is that my oncologists will actually talk to me on the phone but it's impossible to get the same service from a psych NP.

A bunch of quickies:

• Some companies deserve to go out of business: Blockbuster is about to file for bankruptcy. I watch a lot of movies but I always hated going to Blockbuster. The employees, if you could get their attention at all, were rude. And they kept jacking up their prices until it was cheaper to see the movies in the theater.

• "God is with me, and I am confident I will be successful in killing him," said the American tourist detained in Pakistan. He was armed with a pistol and a 40-inch sword. He was hunting for Osama bin Laden.

• This is weird/sad/stupid (or insert your own adjective): A Michigan woman who didn't have health insurance injured her shoulder in an accident. Doctors wouldn't treat her unless her injury was life threatening. So after a month of intense pain, she shot herself in the shoulder. They patched up her gunshot wound but she still didn't get a CT scan or MRI. And she's still in pain.

• Speaking of crazy in the name of self-love: A woman in the UK went to the ER with pain in her pelvis. Doctors found a rolled up Donny Osmond poster in her vagina.

• Speaking of self-love, Chatroulette is a site where you can have webcam conversations with random people from around the world. Now, they're taking all the fun out of it. They're introducing penis-recognition software to block out the pervs.

• A guy in Nebraska told a woman she was fat so she ate him. Well, she bit off a chunk of his ear anyway.

• The Catcher in the Rye: An 84 year old guy in Australia lives across the street from a cliff where about one person a week commits suicide. Every day, he looks out the window for anyone standing on the cliff looking forlorn. He goes over and invites them in for tea. At times, he physically restrains someone while his wife calls the police. He estimates he's saved 160 people from killing themselves.

• Fark headline of the day: Authorities seek help identifying drowning man. Well duh, he's the one bobbing in the water and waving his hands. (the story)

• From Dlisted: Late last night, God and Jeebus must have had a serious fight up in heaven after watching The Real Housewives of NYC Reunion (God is Team Bethenny, Jesus is Team Jill), because the former sharpened his lightning rod and threw it directly at the giant [Touchdown Jesus] statue outside of the Solid Rock Church in Monroe, Ohio ... The giant beacon of exquisite tackiness was built in 2004. (the story)

• I wish I could sing like this. Unfortunately, I actually sing like this.

• Speaking of The Star Spangled Banner: We're Number One! In producing serial killers.

• "Friend BP on Youtube" - That was the ad in the upper right corner when I visited You Tube this morning. Now I know what BP really stands for - Bombastic Pricks.

• Speaking of BP, the Hooters girls are donating their used pantyhose to fill the booms that absorb oil in the Gulf. They might do more good by selling them on eBay and donating the profits.

• A guy in Bavaria forgot to take his medication then mooned some Hell's Angels, threw a puppy at them, stole a front loader, and caused a traffic jam on the autobahn. The last time I forgot my medication, all I did was cry at Walmart.

Stop in the name of love

Like most apartment dwellers, I have a weird neighbor. A couple of months ago, I watched him arrange this still life on top of the dumpster out back. The skeleton was the size of an 6 year old child but it was made of plastic.

I have no idea why he posed it like one of the Supremes but it gave me a good laugh.

Sorry the picture's so fuzzy - it was getting dark out and I took the shot from my apartment.

A little perspective

It's not that my life is so great - it's that the rest of the world's is so bad.

My hair, present and future

I finally learned how to download pictures from my new camera onto my computer. It was ridiculously easy.

The nurse at my gynecological oncologist's office (who's been 100 times more helpful than anyone at the local cancer center) told me to be prepared for my hair to fall out after my first chemo treatment. She said it's best to get fitted for a wig before then so you can match your normal hair.

In real life, the wig is pretty close to the same color as my real hair (minus the gray) and it's almost exactly the same style. The big difference is that the wig doesn't reflect light, so it's darker in the picture and out in the sunlight.

The one good thing about the cancer center is they have free wigs and hats that people donated. They gave me two wigs and a hat, plus the styrofoam head to keep my wig on.

Another TMI post

I've been hanging out at Hyster Sisters, a website for women who've had hysterectomies. They've got a forum that includes a section for cancer concerns. It's been really helpful.

I got hit by the hormone whammy last week. It's 11 weeks since my first surgery when my ovaries were removed and my estrogen level suddenly crashed. I went from having what I considered to be a normal, reasonable reaction to all the stress in my life (fear, anxiety, some crying) to crying all the time, including one episode of uncontrollable sobbing that lasted almost an hour. Worst of all, my private parts feel like sandpaper - very, very dry and sore.

Reading posts on the forum was reassuring - everything I'm experiencing is typical. There was a lot of advice about how to deal with some of the symptoms, along with the not-so-good news that without hormone replacement, this is my life from here on out.

I can't take hormones because they stimulate cancer cells. Don't want any of that.

I'm scheduled to have a port placed in my chest. It goes under the skin and will be visible as a lump about the size of a walnut. I'll get my chemo through that. I've been trying to get an honest answer about how much it's going to hurt.

I'm still debating whether or not to say fuck it all. Chances are I'll go ahead and do chemo, or at least try it once to see how it goes.

Trouble is, even once might be enough to make all my hair fall out.

This is what they mean by bedroom eyes

A little eye candy for the weekend. Hugh Jackman.

Time for some quickies

• Gruesome but inspirational: A guy in Connecticut fell in his basement and one of his arms was trapped under the furnace. He was there three days and the arm had developed gangrene before rescuers found him. He had tried - and almost succeeded - cutting off his own arm.

• Here's a sweet story that can cheer up even the pissed off, cynical likes of me: A 92 year old woman in Florida had her power and water turned off because she couldn't pay the bill. As a result, she became ill and ended up in the hospital. Her neighbors rallied behind her and the firefighters who helped her get to the hospital decided to pay the power bill so she can go home.

• Not so sweet story: Fox attacks 11 year old boy.*

• "I've shot squirrels I've felt worse about," said the cop who served on a Utah firing squad that executed a man who raped and murdered an 11 year old girl.

• A guy in Brazil started fucking his daughter when she was 12. He fathered a child with her when she was 16 and kept her imprisoned for the next 12 years. She had six more children during that time. He also raped another daughter and fathered a child with her. Maybe he should meet the cop from Utah.

• Fark headline of the day: "Don't put soda in that sippy cup," say researchers to dumbass parents who must have more thumbs than teeth.

• Fark headline of the week: BP's "Look what a nice company we are" TV ad isn't running in the Gulf states. A BP spokesman says this is because of the company's commitment to reduce the number of TVs destroyed by bricks and shotguns every year.

• Fark headline of the month: Nebraska man dies from a reptile dysfunction. (He was strangled by his pet boa constrictor.)


*Not that Fox

There's nothing original about Lady Gaga

Lady Gaga stole her act from Grace Jones, Young Elton and Christina. Now, she's stealing Dustin Hoffman's moves.

The picture was taken at the Mets Game this week.

Dumb, dumber, dumberer and dumbererer

My lovely home state elected an idiot to Congress. Steve King has made a real name for himself as the male version of Michele Bachmann.

It turns out he's not the only goofball we elected. Check out what our brilliant Senator Charles Grassley had to say about the oil spill:

I think that there's alternatives to soaking up oil that have not been used yet ... There's a process for making beer -- I don't know if it's the yeast or what it is in making beer. You can put those microscopic things on oil and they die, and all you've got is some methane gas left.

Speaking of the oil spill, on Tuesday night, Stephen Colbert explained BP's public relations strategy. He said exactly what I've been thinking about their spokesperson:

Why doesn't BP fire Tony Hayward? Because Tony Hayward ... has become a public figure so cartoonishly despicable that the public can project all their anger and loathing onto him. I mean, just look at him. He's the picture of toffee-nibbling, priggish, cricket paddling, corporate aristocracy. To complete the look, BP's going to have remote-controlled robots lower a top hat. I mean, what an asshole!

And, as long as Tony here stays the public face of BP, he'll draw the stink off the rest of the company. He's like a living, breathing box of baking soda. Then, the second this spill's under control, BP can just dump him like, I don't know, oil in the Gulf.

And when they fire him, we'll feel like British Petroleum is on our side. BP will come out of this smelling like a rose or whatever flower this is. Which, given their present PR, kind of looks like a green and yellow sphincter.

Finally, speaking of goofballs who get elected, check out Keith Olbermann's attempted interview with Alvin Greene, who won South Carolina's Democratic primary to oppose Republican Sen. Jim DeMint. Anybody else reminded of the movie "Being There"?

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Another long, boring post about cancer

My blog used to get more than 100 page views a day - now I'm getting more like 50-60.

I know part of the reason is that I stopped posting as much. I've gone days and weeks between posts. But part of it is probably because it's just not fun anymore. It seems like cancer is all I talk about.

And here I go again.

Today I had to go to the cancer center for patient education. I was supposed to meet with a nurse to go over everything I need to know about chemo. I've been really looking forward to this appointment. Seriously - I had a long list of questions to ask and all along, everyone's been telling me this day would be the best time to get all the info I wanted.

First problem - I forgot to take my notebook and my list of questions with me.

Second problem - when I got there, the person at the front desk was confused. She told me I didn't have an appointment today. Then she said I was supposed to go to the lab to get my urine checked, even though I just did that on Tuesday. Did they need to do it again or did they forget they already did it? Once that was all sorted out ...

Third problem - the nurse assigned to do my patient education was a man.

This is where I realize I am a sexist pig. If I had my choice, all of my doctors and nurses would be women. I wish I didn't feel that way because it goes against all my principles. I guess I'm a FINO - feminist in name only.

I can usually deal with a male doctor - maybe because I'm used to that. Plus, there's a degree of formality you expect with a doctor. Depending on what I need, a male nurse is usually fine. But I expected to have a female nurse today - someone who would be gentle and easy to talk to and indulge my need for attention.

Not that all female nurses are that way, and not that some men can't be that way too. I just had this image in mind of what I could expect today and I didn't get it.

I hate the way the cancer center operates. It's very impersonal. I found that out on Tuesday when I had to read through about 10 pages of dire warnings about filing insurance claims, getting pre-approvals, and making payments on time. That was before I even got to the pages about my medical history.

When it's time for you to go back for labs or treatment or whatever, they don't come out and get you. They call your name over the intercom. Today it was "Deb Lastname to the chemo room."

First off, my name is Debra. Why the fuck does everybody ALWAYS change it to Deb or Debbie? On Tuesday, they even asked me if I preferred to be called Debra or Deb or Debbie and I said Debra. And then they call me Deb anyway.

Second off, where the fuck is the chemo room? I've never been there before, how am I supposed to know?

Third off, the chemo room? Are they going to inject me today?

Fourth off, the voice that called for me was male. Fuck fuck fuck shit.

I wanted to turn around and leave right then. Or at least ask if I could have a woman instead. But I didn't want to be an outright sexist. It's like I might think the N-word but I would never in my life say it out loud. I heard it so much growing up that it's stuck in my memory and pops up anytime someone who happens to be black pisses me off. Which is rarely, because there aren't that many black people where I live. It shames me deeply to even think it - I would never say it.

Likewise, I'm never going to tell a male nurse, "Men are assholes, I want a woman."

The ironic part of the above statement is that throughout the course of my life, the majority of assholes I've encountered were women. I usually get along better with guys.

I am a bundle of contradictions.

Like the one where I lay awake all night fighting the urge to kill myself, while at the same time preparing to go through six months of pain and inconvenience and disruption so I won't die.

Back to the cancer center - I was already scared, nervous, disappointed, lost and confused before I even got back to the chemo room to meet the nurse. Then I get there and he takes me into a tiny little cubicle.

During my first visit to the center on Tuesday, they asked me three separate times if I'm claustrophobic. Yes, I am, I told them three separate times. Why did they bother asking?

The nurse says, "You're here alone?"

Yeah, I really needed to have that pointed out to me. Then, he pulls out a DVD and pops it into the TV and tells me it's 20 minutes long and I have to watch it, and leaves.

I started crying as soon as he was gone. I fucking HATE watching "patient education" videos. They're so fucking generic and saccharine. And like real saccharine, they leave a bad taste in my mouth.

So on top of everything else I was feeling, I was now thoroughly pissed off.

The video told me absolutely nothing about my treatment that I didn't already know. It wasn't even geared to someone with my specific diagnosis. Do I really need to know that chemo might cause erectile dysfunction? Do I really need to know that it might cause me to go through menopause when I've already had a full hysterectomy and I'm already having the hot flashes and vaginal dryness that go with it?

But most of the video was all about getting support from your spouse and your family and your friends. It featured all these lovey-dovey people talking about how it affected their relationship and how they help each other get through it.

Really? You think watching this shit is going to help me feel better?

I wanted to say fuck it all and go home and never go back. Just wait and see if the cancer recurs then kill myself.

But I stayed. I cried all the way through it. Then the nurse came in and asked if I found the video useful.

I was suppose to say, "Oh yes, thank you." But I said, "It pissed me off. Maybe 3 minutes of it was even relevant to my case."

I don't think he's used to getting an honest response to that question.

While I had his dumbstruck attention, I went on to say what I've been wanting to tell one of them for the last two months. "I'm seriously thinking about not getting treatment. I'm at greater risk of dying of suicide than cancer."

He didn't say much if anything. He just sat there until I went back to "let's pretend I'm okay" mode, then he went back to his script. Gave me a tour of the chemo area and told me what to expect at the appointments. It's pretty much a self-service establishment. They hook you up to the IV then you're on your own. You're supposed to bring your own food, take yourself to the bathroom, get your own drinks, etc.

I don't mind that part so much. But it would be nice to have someone wait on me. Just this once.

Just like it would be nice to have someone ask me how I'm feeling and really want to hear the truth.

I despise Lady Gaga

The main reason I hate her is because of the obnoxious way Perez Hilton promoted her. But I also hate the stupid costumes she wears. By themselves, they wouldn't bother me that much - it's the fact that she's using them as a substitute for talent.

I loved when Elton John dressed up like Donald Duck or Mercury or a kooky bird. The difference between him and Gaga was that he could sing and play and write great songs and he had a dynamic stage presence even without the costumes.

Gaga would be nothing without the attention whoring outfits and onstage stunts. If you can ever sit through one of her performances, watch her eyes. The eyes give it all away - she knows she's a complete phony.

Now I have another reason to hate her. The picture above was taken at her sister's high school graduation this week. You can't let your sister have her own glory for just one day?

Who knew he'd grow up to be a pirate?

Little Johnny Depp. Aargh.

(source)

WWCWD?

Vintage Christopher Walken. Happy hump day.

Some serious stuff and some nonsense

An elementary school in Prescott, AZ, had a mural that featured the faces of kids who attend the school. A city councilman /slash/ radio talk show host got people into a tizzy because some of the faces were black and Latino. But that's not the crazy part. The crazy part is that the school principal ordered the Latino and Black faces be changed to Caucasian.

After the move sparked protests and gained national notoriety, the principal and the superintendent announced that the mural will be restored.

Unfortunately, blacks and Latinos can still go to jail in Arizona if they don't carry proof of citizenship at all times.

Time for some quickies:

• Facebook doesn't totally suck: A woman in California hasn't seen her children since they were kidnapped by their father 15 years ago, when they were toddlers. But she found her daughter's profile on Facebook.

• Gary "Whatchu talkin' 'bout,Willis" Coleman died last week after falling and suffering a brain hemorrhage. His ex-wife signed the papers to remove him from life support. But not until after she arranged to have pictures taken of him, including at least one after he was dead. Now she's selling them to the tabloids.

• Even Elton John has a price. He performed before a crowd of hate mongers and homophobes at Rush Limbaugh's wedding reception. For a fee of $1 million. Apparently Kathryn Rogers has a price too - she married the blubbermouth.

• A good publicist makes all the difference: Tom Cruise is likable again.

• Kiss cam.

Quote of the day

"Rush is a boil on the ass of humanity and Elton just licked it!"

~ an online comment, on news that Elton John sang at Rush Limbaugh's wedding

(I only agree with the first half of the comment.)

It's a cancer thing?

Last week when I saw my GYN oncologist, he said he was going to refer me to a medical oncologist closer to home for my chemo. The local cancer clinic was supposed to call me Thursday or Friday. They didn't, so this afternoon I called GYN Onc's office. I expected to get tossed to a nurse or one of his assistants but he picked up my call himself.

Then he gave me a list of excuses for why he didn't call them last week and promised he'd do it today. About a half hour later, the local Oncologist called me.

Again - the doctor himself was on the phone with me. How often does that happen? And I got two doctors in one day. He also told me I could call him by his first name.

Is this a thing with cancer doctors? Or is this special treatment you get when you've only got a 50% chance of surviving?

Quote of the day

"Don't dump on the poor and call it rain."

~ Russell Simmons

(His blog post about how new banking regulations would affect the poor is worth the read.)

WTF moment of the day

Today, Dr. Phil had a mother and grandmother with a 9 year old boy who kills animals. They're afraid he might grow up to be Jeffrey Dahmer. The grandmother said they first noticed a problem when he killed their goldfish and sliced them open. Then she got him a hamster. The hamster bit him so he threw it against the wall and killed it. Then she got him a guinea pig and he put it in the microwave and nuked it. Then she got him a gerbil. I don't even remember how the gerbil died but it did.

How many animals does a kid have to kill before you stop giving him more?

And they still have a cat living in the house. WTF?

For sale on the streets of NYC

Obama condoms - "A stimulus package for hard times."

Palin condoms - "As thin as her resume."

And McCain condoms - "Wrinkled for her pleasure."

(source)

Should I assassinate my goldfish?

A year ago when I bought him, he was about an inch long. Now he's 8 inches. If he was a man, I'd be happy.

But he's ugly and scaly and too big for my aquarium and he harasses the other fish. Again, if he was a man I'd keep him. But it's a fish.

Will I go to hell for killing a goldfish?

Miscellaneous quickies

• Now here's a candidate I can get behind - Young Boozer. He's running for Alabama state treasurer and yes, that's his real name.

• Speaking of boozers: A few months ago, California state senator Roy Ashburn was arrested for drunk driving shortly after leaving a gay club in Sacramento. Ashburn was a family values guy known for campaigning against gay rights. He's out of the closet now and campaigning in favor of gay rights. He admits that he voted against gays in the past to avoid suspicion about his own sexuality.

• Speaking of closet doors opening: Don't Ask Don't Tell is on it's way out.

• D-I-V-O-R-C-E: Al and Tipper Gore are calling it quits. The question is: Who was hiking the Appalachian trail - Al or Tipper?

• Here's a really good article about the rising maternal mortality rates in the U.S. A lot of the blame can be placed on the overall health care crisis - uninsured mothers, understaffed maternity wards - and on too many inductions and c-sections for non-medical reasons.

• Sporcle has a game to name the 79 countries that are smaller than the Gulf oil spill.

What the oncologist said

I have endometrial cancer, Stage III A. Or ovarian cancer, Stage II. Because of the way my hysterectomy was done, they can't tell where the cancer originated but the prognosis and the prescribed treatment are basically the same either way.

I have to do six cycles of chemotherapy and then probably 5-6 weeks of radiation. All outpatient and fortunately, I can do it right here in my home town instead of 2 hours away. My treatment won't be finished until approximately Thanksgiving, and then I'll have to go for frequent checkups to look for a recurrence.

He says he believes there's a high probability that I'll have a full cure. We're treating it aggressively because I'm young (although I'm old enough to be his mother) and he said he expects a good outcome.

We'll see. If it was meant as a pep talk, it worked. A little bit anyway.

The worst news of the day is that I will lose my hair and my eyebrows and lashes. Which, considering how I felt this morning, isn't that bad, right?

It feels bad though.

A little morbid but mostly being practical

In about six hours, I'll be meeting with my oncologist to find out what stage my cancer is, what kind of treatment he recommends, and the odds that I'll still be alive five years from now.

I tried going to bed a couple of hours ago, but all I could do is lay there and think about everything I need to do before I die. Most people would be making a list of things they've always wanted to do - like go on a cruise, learn how to play the piano, make amends with old frenemies.

But I'm focused on the practical stuff, like cleaning out my file drawers, deleting the embarrassing stuff from my computer, organizing my family history stuff so I can pass it on to someone. I'm thinking about all the things I could sell if I'm not going to be around to hoard them for the next 20 years. Also thinking about distributing family heirlooms, but most of the people in my family have little interest in those.

My 12 year old niece covets the costume jewelry that belonged to my great grandmother. I want her to have it someday but I'm afraid she'll trash it if I give it to her now. I think my nephew might appreciate the cookie jar that belonged to my grandmother.

I'd like to make a quilt for each of my 3 nieces and my nephew. And I need to talk to my bachelor brother to see if he'll give my cats a home. (Although they're elderly and they've both been sick, so I might outlive them yet.)

Mostly, I would just downsize. There's a ton of stuff I'm hanging onto that no one else in my family would want. I'd also like to arrange a pre-paid funeral. Since I won't be leaving any money behind, I think I'll pay in advance for my cremation.

It would be nice if my circumstances aren't really as dire as I think they are. But based on my googling, I think my cancer is stage III, and I've only got a 50% chance of survival.

I'll find out more in a few hours. But do I really want to know?

That and my blow jobs

On Monday afternoon, I was sitting at my desk trying to accomplish something (I'm not sure what), when my ears were assaulted by the couple from hell.

A woman, her ex-husband (who apparently lives here) and their approximately 3 year old son were out in the back yard - about 40 yards from my window. Their voices were really loud, especially the woman's. A lot of "fucking this" and "fucking that," and incessant nagging at the child, who didn't seem to be doing anything wrong aside from existing. They weren't arguing - just conversing and joking around.

Fuck is just about my favorite word. It's so versatile. But even I was offended by the way these morons were talking.

The highlight was when another neighbor was hanging out her laundry. The fucking woman told her she had a nice ass. She said "Thanks, you too." To which the fucking woman replied, "Yeah, that's my only ASSet, that and my blow jobs."

Made for a very memorable memorial day.