Fuck You Cancer!!

My oldest, dearest friend, Debbie is fighting Stage IV Urothelial Cancer. I’m so fucking angry. Like DEFCON-5 enraged that someone as amazing, gentle, sweet, hilarious, generous and beautiful could be struck down with this God awful piece of shit disease. I have lost family members to the big C, and it was excruciating to watch Cancer sucks the very soul out of their pain ravaged, frail bodies. By the time that they were mercifully called HOME to much deserved Glory, I was literally on my knees praying and begging for their for suffering to end. My bestie and I are the same age, both with precious brand new grandbabies whom I naively assumed that we’d watch grow up as we grew older. Fucking TOGETHER. I think part of the reason I’m so angry is because her illness is making me face my own immortality and that scares the fuck out of me and makes me want to put my psychiatrist on speed dial because the mere notion of watching someone I’ve loved as a sister since we were thirteen years old suffer so unrelentingly has my BPD on red alert as it endlessly screeches “DISASSOCIATE,” in my mind, but I will not. No matter what. I will have her back exactly as I have had it for the past 29 years.

The worthless, self serving, dog and pony show of a god damn government and literal American hating Congress needs to stop worrying about what Melania wears, what President Cheeto Tan says or what AOC and her nutjob “posse” thinks and fund the FDA with an enormous budget so that diseases like cancer, cystic fibrosis, ALS, Alzheimers, Autism, MS, Lupus, Diabetes, Heart Disease, COPD, Fibro, PTSD, Schizophrenia, Bi-Polar and Manic Depression can be eradicated. I wish this with every fiber of my being. It won’t EVER happen though because Big Pharma has Washington in its very wealthy, very deep pockets.

FDA Person #1: Hey I know tens of millions of people are dying of above mentioned diseases every single day. That’s so tragic.

FDA Person #2: Yes, it really is sad. Hey, how far along are you on that new medicine that gives 95 year old men powerful erections?!?!

What in the fucking fuck?

The following is a text conversation between my heart, Debbie, and myself.



I’ll Cut A Bitch

I went to the doctors office this morning at an ungodly hour, 7am is about the time I’ve only been asleep for approximately 2.5 hours most nights because of the tossing, turning and writhing in pain from Fibromyalgia. After an entire pot of coffee AND a shower with one leg stuck out of the shower door (due to my knee surgery four weeks ago), I was only half awake and pissed off because of how I had to shower led to me having an inch of water on my entire bathroom floor, which I immediately slipped on and busted me new voluptuous ass (I’ve gained 20 pounds in two months due to my koo koo meds). I’ve never been so happy to have the increased volume of junk in my trunk. I finally made it to the doctor ten minutes late for my appointment because I took the elevator and missed my floor. Twice. By this time I was fucking fuming and sweating like a hooker at a tent revival because of my fury and an inopportune time for a hot flash. The receptionist was about to tell me I’d need to reschedule because I was by then more than ten minutes late to my appointment. She took one look at my disheveled hair, fire engine red, sweaty face and the wild look in my eyes and decided against it (she has no idea how close she came to bearing the full brunt of my rage).

I finally settled in an uncomfortable waiting room chair to wait forty five minutes for my surgeon NOT to see me….he had his PA take out my stitches and tell me to go one floor up for physical therapy. Now in addition to my physical ailments, I’m a raving nut job….you just don’t spring this kind of shit on me at the last minute, but since I was already there, I agreed. It wasn’t until after I was laying on the physical therapy table that I had my WTF was I thinking moment….I’m lying on a table waiting for someone to come torture me sans pain meds, because due to the opioid epidemic my surgeon only sends his patients home with fifteen Lortab 5’s after MAJOR knee surgery. What kind of fuckery is this?!? I have fibro, fool, and 5 days after surgery you are telling me to take a fucking Tylenol?!? How about if I sever your penis and shove it straight up your ass and YOU take a god damn Tylenol?!?

By the time the PT made it too my room another 25 minutes later, I had enough. She opened her mouth to question me or chastise me or what the fuck ever, to which my response was,”Not today, Satan. Not today,” as I stalked (as well as someone with a bum knee can stalk) out. My BP was 146/95 when I first arrived an hour and a half prior, no telling what it was when I left, I had to have been a prime candidate for a fucking stroke.

I have now been home for three hours and my mood was finally simmering down until I opened the medicine cabinet to glare at the Tylenol. If I took enough Tylenol to even put a dent in my chronic pain, I’d die from liver failure in short order. So not giving a second thought to my bleeding stomach ulcer, I took 4 Maximum Strength Goody’s headache powders and prayed to the powers that be that 1) that many Goody’s at least takes the edge off of my pain and 2) I don’t die from internal bleeding because I’m taking such desperate measures.

It’s a good thing I have no idea where the state DEA’s office is because today….