*DISCLAIMER: If you are a stalker-type individual, Assclown, Ass-monkey, Dicknozzle or some other variation of a socially dysfunctional Ass-hat, reading this blog will cause your retinas to burn straight through the back of your head. Consider yourself warned.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Call Me Selfish


The previous blog was NOT about Jay.



If you thought that it was, possibly you and I are not as tight as you believed.


(That situation is likely pretty easily resolved, but it takes balance and effort.)


For the record, Jay and I are super groovy and in the super schmoopie groove.


(Which we like because it makes people nauseas.)


While we hit some bumps a few months back, we have made a commitment to each other and our life together and are moving forward with those plans.


I do not write about our relationship out of respect to Jay and the integrity of our relationship.


Some things are private or to be shared only with close friends and family, not the blog-o-sphere.


While there are some who only read my blog and believe themselves to know me once they do, that is simply not logically possible.


I am a person. This is a blog. They are not the same.


Though I sometimes share stories which were once private or painful, I am not defined by those things, much like I am not defined by cancer.


I write for entertainment (both mine and the readers').


Yesterday's blog was about cancer.


That is all.


It is how I feel.


Nothing more; nothing less.


My blog is an outlet for me.


Me.


Unless you and I have had personal conversations which were balanced and possessing some level of depth, you do not know me.


Don't take it personally.


If you rely on my blog for updates about me, we are not close...even if we once were.


I am somewhat a traditionalist in that I believe people should actually communicate directly with each other. I'm weird like that.


I keep important stuff out of my blog.


My children and Jay are important. They are my family.


We are all fighting my illness together...


It is beautiful and amazing...and I would like to keep that for myself.


Call me selfish.


Peace.


Tuesday, January 12, 2010

Breaking Up


I need you to let me go.

I don't know how to do this with you anymore.

I feel that it has gone on long enough.

We had a good go of it, but clearly we are incompatible.

We agree on nothing.

You are selfish and smothering and mean.

You have brought very little to the table from which I can draw something positive...

I know I sound detached...

I know I sound as if I am not grateful for the things you have taught me, and I need you to know that that is not the case.

I will never forget you.

There will likely never be a day in which I do not think of you...

When I see you with someone else, it will make me unbelievably sad...of this, I am sure.

You had to see this coming.

We were never really a good match.

I was young and was overwhelmed by you.

You were so sure of yourself and knew what you wanted and I was unprepared for how that would make me feel.

I cannot tell you how many times I have almost allowed you to take me over...

Either to completely submit to you or to simply allow your identity to become my own.

I feel stronger now.

I have come to terms with how much pain you have caused me and although I have reached a certain level of acceptance of you in my life, because your selfishness knows no boundaries, I am left with an incredible, palpable anger toward you which can barely be contained.

I don't want to fight with you anymore.

I simply want you to leave.

I don't want you to take anything other than what you came with, as I have shared and given enough over the years.

I don't want this to be ugly.

I do not want a mess.

I simply want you to leave...

...and let me go.

I know it will hurt you at first, but I hope some day you can look back on me as "the one who got away"...

I wish I could say that I love you and that it will all work out for you, but I have to admit, I too am selfish and have never loved you.

I am also so angry and unforgiving that I know that I will do everything in my power to see you fail.

I know this makes me appear to be a bad person, but I'll survive.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Ovary Toss: Part One


I walked out of the pre-op restroom with my specimen and there he stood in his scrubs.

"Good morning, Cory," he said with a familiar smile as I approached on the way to my station.

"Well hey!" I returned back to him.

"You ready to do this?"

"Better question is, are YOU ready to do this? Did you get enough sleep? No caffeine? Feeling pretty relaxed...?" I laughed as I played with him.

He laughed.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he reassured me as we walked the rest of the way and he went over exactly the path he was going to take to remove little pieces of me and make me "better".

He was used to me.

We have an 8 year history together and he is the reason I didn't die when when pregnant with The Sass and he is the reason there is actually a Sass to speak of...

(I mean, sure her dad helped a bit "that one night" when the Rams lost the Super Bowl and we were celebrating, but after that it was all Dr. J.)

If I trusted him not to kill The Sass or me all those years ago, this was pretty much a cake walk.

He had cut into me one other time and it was a breeze.

He is the sort of doctor you immediately trust and I always have.

He then talked to Jay and Ty and I think that made them feel better.

He talked to me/us about the "pain button" and how I could push it until I was blue in the face for all the "happy" I wanted without killing myself.

I got settled in with my nurse Brenda as we discussed kids' names and how my given first name is her middle name.

Things were immediately easy with Brenda because she had a sense of humor and was playful.

I felt like Dr. J ordered her specifically for me. (Yes, I know he didn't.)

They came in and explained anesthesia to me (as if I could somehow forget?)...

They let me say good-bye to Jay and Ty and I was oddly emotional.

They both knew I was actually wigged this time (but I think no one should ever have to get comfortable with surgeries)...

I looked at my two boys and was glad that they were sort of like brothers in their playful mannerisms with each other and Jay has always promised me that he would look after Ty if something ever happened, so I was calm.

Plus, I knew that Lisa and Chris would be there in a snap to help with Ty if anything happened, so that was like added insurance.

I watched them walk down the hall and they did not see me get wheeled into the operating room.

I turned the corner as they walked out the door...

It was 11am.

A mask was placed over my face and I am asked what I would like to dream about...

I smile and let my eyebrow dance mischievously as I state that I am going to dream of racing against my new racing nemesis for 2010...

Dr. J laughed at me and rolled his eyes in his standard "Oh-Cory-what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you?" eye roll and it was game on.

I awoke with knives and razors in my groin.

I listened to a lady across the way howl (yes, howl) in pain.

(For the record, this does NOTHING to relax anyone else recovering from surgery.)

Why was SHE screaming? I am the one with the knives and razors.

Hello!?!?!

I was in acute pain. This surprised me.

Why was I not numb and stoned?

I expected to be baked.

WTF?

I wanted to get up and punch that werewolf lady but knew walking would be tricky and I would not be stealthy enough to get away with it without witness...though I am not sure there wouldn't be a brief moment of applause.

(You know the kind that starts with that lone person and suddenly it's a stadium?)

Yeah...like that.

What I knew was that I needed to start talking to a nurse right away to get my mind functioning so I could get right the hell out of that mess.

So I did.

Me: "What time is it?"

Her: "11:48am"

Me: "How long have I been in here?"

Her: "Not very long. Maybe 20 minutes."

Me: "What is your name?"

Her: "Karen"

Me: "How are you doing today?"

Karen is taken aback. "I am OK. How are you?"

"I'm sore, Karen. Very sore...and sleepy."

I smile a goofy, drug-induced, "we-both-know-I-am-peeing-in-a-bag-right-now-so-let's-not-play-games" smile that I am sure she found both delightful and charming.

Me: "Tell me about you."

Karen: "Tell you about me?"

Me: "Yes. Talk to me about you as you do what you need to do to me. I need to stay alert."

(It dawns on me that I have this surgery thing down to an almost-art and that frightens me.)

She tells me a bit and to help her out I start asking her questions about the surgery. She relaxes a bit.

I tell her that my goal is to get to my room and away from the howling lady so that I can get some rest.

She chuckles and takes my vitals and tells me that as soon I am ready, I can go.

(I'm pretty sure I lost some time there as I was actually stoned but just in a LOT of pain...so I don't know how long that really took...)

I'm ready.

I see Jay and Ty and I am HAPPY!

My bottom lip pops out like a toddler, but I am ultimately happy that all is good and that I am looking at my boys.

We get to my room and I have the bed by the door.

We listen to my new roomy groan and moan as we get settled in.

I cannot believe my pain.

Also, there is no "pain button".

Because Dr. J knew my goal was to not spend multiple days in the hospital, he didn't want me baked. This way I could work on my motor skills and dazzle him with my ability to get the hell out of there.

(Nice plan, Dr. J.!)

I gotta love the man. He listens to me.

He *may* have forgotten to tell me that ripping out certain organs in that "special area" would hurt like a futha mucka!

I listen to my poor roomy and think that her surgery must have been a lot worse because she is a hot mess.

Then, she fell asleep.

Snoring.

Loud, crazy snoring.

I look at Jay.

"Seriously?"

He gives me his typical crooked grin and without words we are making fun of the poor faceless, bodiless woman because we are small humans who are easily amused in unamusing situations.

(Hey, at least we recognize this about ourselves. It's the first step.)

She is snoring away as the door to the room enters and in walks a short, pudgy gal who walks past us with a stick up her large arse and over to the sleeping woman's side.

She jumps on the bed and wakes her up.

(Yes. Reread that. She jumped on her bed like a 4 year old and woke the poor woman up.)

This is however where my sympathy for that woman ends.

They proceeded to talk very loudly about their fast food meals (the fast food intake was really no shock to the 3 of us witnessing the scene) and suddenly I felt like I was in a dive bar in Small Town, USA and would not have been one bit shocked had either of them lit a cigarette and downed a shot of Wild Turkey.

Jay and Ty were next to my bed and we could not hear each other speak.

The nurse came in and Jay asked her if she would ask them to keep it down a bit.

The nurse said the redneck was leaving for surgery in 20 minutes, so we shouldn't worry about it.

We tried.

It got louder.

(Hmmmm...wasn't this the same woman who was groaning in pain a few moments ago...?)

I was in a lot of pain and less than an hour out of surgery.

All I wanted was my fair piece of the rest pie.

If this lady was this loud BEFORE surgery, what sort of nightmare would she be post-op?

*shivers at thought*

Jay politely poked his head around to their side and asked if they could keep it down because I just got out of surgery.

He is generally pretty charming but I guess the amount of teeth in his mouth (and the fact that said teeth are white) was a real turn off for the McFatties, because his request was not well received.

They literally started hootin' and hollerin' and then the pudgy little troll (we assume it was the adult daughter of my roomy) said, "OOOOPS! My bad, I forgot!"

I let out an "Oh. My. God! We asked you nicely! YOU are a visitor. I am a patient. YOU can leave."

I felt like a bitch, but holy hell...I was ripped open and raw and hurting and tired and supposed to be resting.

The next time the nurse came in, Jay just flat out told her the deal...and how they had actually refused to keep it down.

She took one look at my exhausted face and left the room.

She came back in less than 5 minutes with another nurse.

Just like that I was moved.

I apologized to the nurses. I told them I felt like the bad kid who had to be separated from the other kids.

She said, "You shouldn't have to deal with that. I am not supposed to say this about patients, but she has been like that all day and we kind of think she is faking it."

Jay and I were amused by this.

We started talking in our "chronic smokers" voices and humoring the nurses.

I was given a pain med and allowed to settle in...

...at least for a little bit.

I laid back in my bed and wrapped my mind around the fact that I was not going to bounce back in the same way that I did following the surgery in August.

I let the drugs take my mind away on a little trip and giggled with the boys for a while while I relaxed.

It was going to be a long road...

...but hey, I've got a bike for that, right....?

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Sing-A-Long Time...


(Sung to the tune of "Bingo"...derrrr)
Cory had a surgery and...

Unilateral Salpingo-Oophorectomy was its name-O...

Sal-P-I-N-G-O

Sal-P-I-N-G-O

Sal-P-I-N-G-O

Unilateral Salpingo-Oophorectomy was its NAME-O!

Tomorrow I'll have one less ovary...

Tomorrow I'll have one less ovary...

Tomorrow I'll have one less ovary, because...

Unilateral Salpingo-Oophorectomy was its NAME-O!

O-V-A-R-Y...

O-V-A-R-Y...

O-V-A-R-Y...

Unilateral Salpingo-Oophorectomy was its NAME-OHHHHH!

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

PSA: Pubes & Pee


You would think that this should not have to be stated, but ummmmmm, clearly it does.

OK...look...I accept the fact that there are still people walking around with pubes.

I am not sure why...and I do not ask...but I accept it.

I don't want to see that situation and I don't want to know about it, but I accept it.

That being said, if you are a person who has chosen not to pubescape, may I adamantly request the following...?

Please look at the toilet seat before you leave that area.

If you notice that one of those less-than-adorable little curly fellas has been left behind, please wipe it/them off the seat.

I know it may seem as though I am not a "team player", but I really do not feel that cleaning up someone else's pubes should ever be the responsibility of another person.

*gag*

It is a toilet seat. It is not supposed to look like a Chia pet.

Wipe that shit up.

The same goes for pee.

Seriously.

If you are a dude, shake that nonsense off like a pro, not like a tweaking 2 year old.

If you are a chick, there is really no excuse for drips on the seat.

Hover your junk over the bowl, sistas.

Then wipe...while still over the bowl.

Don't do a goddamned dance over the thing to get every last drop out. You could hurt yourself...and make a hot mess.

That should just about cover it.

I would like to personally thank that hairy assclown who inspired this blog for completely triggering my gag reflex this morning, thus ensuring that I am in no danger of adding holiday weight today.

*2 entirely snarky thumbs up*