I am a terrible little blogger. And I really should know better, because, well, because I had this very serious illness and, I know from checking in on other people of this ilk, that the longer the period of silence, the higher the concern goes.
Sorry.
I’d tell you that I’ll do better but that would probably be a lie. But I will fire things off as they appear in my life or in my head. Buckle up.
Today, I was reading an article in the NY Times about who should and who shouldn’t get screened for breast cancer and whether it makes any difference at all.
And I was reading, and I felt my anxiety level creeping up, because, and you can go ahead and call me paranoid on this one, it seems like the media likes to stir the shit and are pretty happy to print any old story that will grab people’s attention. It seems to me that if the beginning and the end of your experience with cancer is reading stuff in the newspaper or watching snippets on CNN you will just end up feeling completely and perpetually spun around until you no longer know which way is up. And you will always be terrified of getting sick and what you should do, or shouldn’t do, or should have done, if the day comes when you get sick.
Making people terrified and confused, that is what is sick.
So I was reading the article and I felt that feeling of angst start to wash over me.
And then I remembered what it was like to be right down there on the firing line, and I know lots of people will do things differently than me, but when I parachuted into the land of the lab coats, I was pretty much willing to do whatever they told me. That made me remember that, back in the day, I didn’t care what the NY Times said about mammograms and I didn’t care about what anyone else said either, unless they happened to be my doctor, with my chart tucked securely under their arm.
I guess I am of several minds about the situation, because of course it’s good to provide people with information about any illness. It also makes me look like a hydra.
But sometimes, the way the media cranks up the hysteria around cancer,a disease which comes with a healthy dose of organic anxiety producing mechanisms, well, that fanning the flames of personal terror just seems sort of sadistic to me.
That’s what I think.
I think that in the face of presenting what should be helpful, possibly life saving information, the media just cranks people up till they can’t tell right from left.
It’s sort of shameful, I think.
And, I want to have a wee vent about cancer patients on television. Or, I should say, the way television depicts characters who are supposed to have cancer. There are a couple of ‘em in popular culture right now.
Here’s my beef.
The little head scarf is moving me to tears but the abundance of eye brows is throwing a monkey wrench into any credibility you may have hoped to muster, mister.
And…
losing one’s eyebrows is no small thing, whether from chemotherapy or to make your tv show seem credible.
I know that sometimes the suckers just don’t grow back.
I also know that the way people look when they, as a real life human being, do chemotherapy look is jarring, and disturbing.
I can say with no hesitation that I pretty much hated how I looked when I was bald like a baby and had a moon face from steroids. So maybe that look is too much for your average consumer of popular culture.
But I have to say, as a member of that exclusive club, it kind of irks me when the make up team don’t even bother to cover the eyebrows up with masking tape or duct tape or something.
And on other fronts, because I am the world’s worst blogger, I neglected to mention that sometime between now and my last post, I spent 3 weeks in Costa Rica, diving with white tipped reef sharks and turtles and so many amazing fishies and animals.
It was great.
Someone asked for pictures but since most of my time was spent underwater, the photos I have are few and not as spectacular as the images I brought home in my mind.
And because I believe in the power of the internet to say all things to all people, I want to take a second to say that, while I was originally sort of annoyed with Reef Runners in Puerto Limon, my final verdict is that I think they really sat up and paid attention when I said I was frustrated with how things went, or didn’t go, while I was there. The owner made a huge effort to make everything right when he found out I was unhappy.
And as soon as I remember my tripadvisor.com password, I will make that info known on that site as well.
And, shoe on the other foot, let me just take advantage of the internet to say that the So Posh clothing company in Florida ripped me off, which is a big drag. I have been shopping online for at least 10 years and I have never, ever had a problem before.
But these wankers took my money and then never sent my Ed Hardy shorts.
When I complained, they apologized and said my order had been mixed up with someone else’s and they were fixing it. Silly me, I thought they were telling the truth.
That was about 6 weeks ago, and let me just say, it’s no longer shorts season in the town where I live. I ordered one pair of shorts in July, and here it is November and all I have to show for my money is a stupid lying e-mail saying they were going to fix it.
They don’t answer their phone and no longer respond to my e-mails.
I suppose dogs like this just pull up stakes and start something new with a new name.
Paypal won’t help cuz too much time has passed.
But hey, don’t blow your cash on anything from So Posh clothing in Florida. Liars and cheats. Bad, bad So Posh.
I just wanted my shorts, but these guys are some dirty rotten scoundrels. So Posh, stealing wankers.
Don’t be pulling your credit card out to send any money to these wankers.
(How many times do I have to say So Posh, So Posh, So Posh, So Posh so the search engines pick it up and other people are spared the BS I have gone through? Does anyone know how many times I should mention that Samantha, yes, that is Samantha at So Posh, in Florida, lied to me and ripped me off, when it would have been very easy to put my Ed Hardy, did I mention they were Ed Hardy shorts? Samantha, from So Posh in Florida, could have been a non wanker and sent me my Ed Hardy shorts, but no, she ripped me off, so shame on So Posh and please don’t let them screw you over like they did me. Wanker cheating morons.)
Aside from being ripped off by lying American wankers not actually selling Ed Hardy shorts from Florida, things are good.
Though I remain gobsmacked when I look at all the ways American people are trying to wiggle away from some sort of moderately ethical health care system.
Listen to me, America.
The equation goes like this.
1) you are born (which in america, costs money)
2) you live, which will involve broken bones, skinned knees, bruises, cuts and stitches, broken hearts, (for which, I hear, they have no successful treatment except substance abuse or the rebound relationship or both) and who knows what else, which also all costs money
3) one day, one way or another, something completely craptastic will happen to you and will make you dead. This process will also cost money, which seems sort of unfair, because they should fix you if they are going to charge you.
Anyway, it just seems to me that unless you have yourself some health insurance, you might as well take an extra job on the night shift at the takeout window at the all night McDonald’s so you can just keep on top of the interest on your hospital bill. Or I guess you could lose your house to pay for your health care.
Everybody is gonna get sick, at some point, and everyone is gonna need some help from the people around them.
Why do you guys have such an anxiety attack when someone tries to make it just a tiny bit less catastrophic to be sick?
Seriously. You have me completely confused.
Adios. Till next time.
And hey, did I mention, don’t do business with those wankers at So Posh in Florida.