So many doctors, so little time.
Since being diagnosed with cancer at the age of 17, I have seen so many different doctors that I lost count. Not exactly something that you want to brag about...especially before getting "Over the Hill" and all of my collagen giving way to gravity. Although, the majority of these doctors that I have seen over the years have given me strange looks over their bi-focals, shook their heads in disbelief and then served me up some good, hot, shitty news to boot. Not to mention all of those wonderful drugs that make you feel like a gelatinous mass of lukewarm jelly. To think that my fight for life is nothing but a shake of the head and a mark in the chart for many doctors, I've got something to divulge about them. Doctors may believe that they have studied their way into glorious position of reverence, but believe me when I say their personal lives take a major toll. In my personal experience, most doctors have a personal life as ravaged as a pig in a lion's den. Seriously brutal, but very true.
I must admit that I developed a very heavy attraction to doctors over the years of my cancer treatment. They were always there to pump me full of chemical toxic-death and, ultimately, "Save the Day." It's similar to anyone who has an attraction to someone in uniform -- I just preferred the white coat, salt-n-pepper hair, and big, sexy describing words to the military aficionado.
During a short Starbucks stop before work one day, I met a handsome gentleman wearing some very sexy pumas. (I do love a man in some sexy shoes...) After commenting on his shoes, he continually met me there, same time every morning. Eventually, we exchanged numbers and began a very short but very fun fling with each other. Turned out that the handsome gentleman was indeed a doctor, a Maxillofacial surgeon to be exact, who found just as much intrigue in me as I did in him. A Maxillofacial surgeon is the guy who deals with extracting wisdom teeth, TMJ issues, and implanting falsies where real teeth no longer remained.
After dating for a few weeks, I realized a few things that I found pretty weird. I know what you're thinking; old dude dating a college chick is gross enough...but, there was stranger things to discover. He never brushed his teeth; not after a meal, nor in the morning...GROSS. He's a mouth doctor for God's sake!! Also, he had an entire walk in closet dedicated to shear ling coats. His huge house was home to about 100 phalenopthsis orchids, which he had a personal orchid maintenance person to come and coddle them while he was away. His room looked like a prissy 16-year old brat's who had mommy's credit cards and a bad shopping addiction; covered throughout with shopping bags and issues of fashion magazines all splayed out. Needless to say, I was weirded out and our fling did not last long. Thank God I let go of him before his horrible Johnny Cash, Grecian-gilded stage. YUCK.
After that relationship ended, I ignored the red flags and made friends with another doctor. The difference here is that this doctor was my oncologist, from a few years before. This doctor was a wreck; divorces all over the place, alimony galore, two mid-life crisis hot rods, and an addiction to some nasty college skanks. Since we live in a college town that is saturated with a plethora of bleached-blonde stupids, he was never alone. He loved throwing "college parties" in his humongous pad and making sure that everyone knew that he was the cool old guy down the block who loved to get down. This poor man, as genius as he is with medicine, is totally ignorant when it comes to life. He was a total emotional wreck....the kind of wreck you slow down to stare at because it's horrifying and terrible. I had to eliminate myself from coming around that situation in defense of my sanity. Every time I saw a different slut drunk on his couch, I wanted to bitch slap him in his stupid wrinkles.
The last and final doctor that made me forever give up on my attraction was absolutely disgusting. Visiting this doctor was completely for health reasons and in no way personal. I was looking for a new primary care physician and had to go in for a physical. The short, fat, little old man claimed that it was strange for him to have me as a patient because he primarily worked with senior citizens. I explained to him that I have an extremely lengthy health history record that would surely match the girth of his other older patients and not to worry. He gave me an EKG (weird...and have never had one since) and a breast exam. He then called me later that evening on my personal cell phone and asked if I wanted to meet up with him. My husband was home at the time and heard the whole conversation so at least I have proof of how disgusting this asshole is. Dr. Creepy-ass old fucker, you are outed for how disgusting you are. I hope you die from some horrible painful venereal disease and rot in hell for what you did. I will forever and always openly discuss what you did and how disgusting you are.
As an ending to this fantastic rant, I must say that I still have respect for doctors. I respect the fact that they almost always surrender a chance at personal bliss in order to wear that white coat and be called 'doctor.' By giving up their chance at a happy personal life, they honor their well-earned title and try to save/better as many lives as they can. By saving people, they gain fulfillment. That remains beautiful to me, and forever will.
So, Thank you, Doctors! Thank you for giving up your sanity, your close relationships with others, and your chance of living a life of normalcy. Ultimately, Thank you for saving my life...twice!!
Monday, September 26, 2011
A Letter to an Old Friend
Friend of Yesteryear,
It's been quite some time since we spoke last, which has been somewhat of a hurdle to get used to. Of course, our last conversation was not one that I fondly remember. Throughout the years we have had our spats but this one was the one that finalized the friendship and sealed the deal. We have grown into two totally different people, with different opinions and opposite lives. However, it has been difficult since we have shared so much over the years and extricating you has been quite the process.
Remember how easy it was to be friends when we were young? Making friends as kids was as easy as hopscotch and was the only reason why I went to school besides the cute boys. There were no raring judgements between us, or opinions to argue. But, as we grew older, the differences between us became so obvious that hanging out was a chore.
As kids, we hung out everyday. I knew your phone number quicker than anyone's, including my own. Our names were said synonymous with each other and sleepovers were a weekly event. We shared everything; food, money, clothes, and boys. Although, most of the time you usually got sloppy seconds. Of course we had our spats...but nothing too serious. We got through hardships and break-ups together. Everything we did growing up was done together. Maybe that is why it has been such a hurdle to move on without wanting to call or talk to you. It's a habit that has forcibly been broken for the better good of both you and me.
Our differences really came out after high school ended and we moved in opposite directions of each other. I chose North, while you chose South. I chose college and work, you chose partying and conception. Extreme differences in how we chose to pursue life slowly but steadily broke our closely-knit friendship into a disgusting, messy, dusty rubble. Two people who grew up with so much in common that grew drastically apart.
This hurdle has been a great one for me. I do miss what we had but that does not take away from how great our friendship was and how many great times we spent together. I will always fondly remember the good times; running around scantily clad hoping the neighbor boys would see us, singing "SHOOP" (by Salt n' Pepa) all the way to school everyday for months, getting drunk/high for the first time, pretending to make out in front of guys to freak them out...amazing memories.
I hope life treats you well and that you find nothing but happiness, love, laughter and success. Although we have grown apart and probably will never speak again, I will forever be grateful for what we shared as silly little kids playing in the dirt together.
Sincerely, Tiny
It's been quite some time since we spoke last, which has been somewhat of a hurdle to get used to. Of course, our last conversation was not one that I fondly remember. Throughout the years we have had our spats but this one was the one that finalized the friendship and sealed the deal. We have grown into two totally different people, with different opinions and opposite lives. However, it has been difficult since we have shared so much over the years and extricating you has been quite the process.
Remember how easy it was to be friends when we were young? Making friends as kids was as easy as hopscotch and was the only reason why I went to school besides the cute boys. There were no raring judgements between us, or opinions to argue. But, as we grew older, the differences between us became so obvious that hanging out was a chore.
As kids, we hung out everyday. I knew your phone number quicker than anyone's, including my own. Our names were said synonymous with each other and sleepovers were a weekly event. We shared everything; food, money, clothes, and boys. Although, most of the time you usually got sloppy seconds. Of course we had our spats...but nothing too serious. We got through hardships and break-ups together. Everything we did growing up was done together. Maybe that is why it has been such a hurdle to move on without wanting to call or talk to you. It's a habit that has forcibly been broken for the better good of both you and me.
Our differences really came out after high school ended and we moved in opposite directions of each other. I chose North, while you chose South. I chose college and work, you chose partying and conception. Extreme differences in how we chose to pursue life slowly but steadily broke our closely-knit friendship into a disgusting, messy, dusty rubble. Two people who grew up with so much in common that grew drastically apart.
This hurdle has been a great one for me. I do miss what we had but that does not take away from how great our friendship was and how many great times we spent together. I will always fondly remember the good times; running around scantily clad hoping the neighbor boys would see us, singing "SHOOP" (by Salt n' Pepa) all the way to school everyday for months, getting drunk/high for the first time, pretending to make out in front of guys to freak them out...amazing memories.
I hope life treats you well and that you find nothing but happiness, love, laughter and success. Although we have grown apart and probably will never speak again, I will forever be grateful for what we shared as silly little kids playing in the dirt together.
Sincerely, Tiny
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Dear Uterus and Ovaries, We Need to Talk.
Dear Uterus and Ovaries,
I feel like it's due time that we have a long and in-depth conversation about what has been going on. This is necessary for us to go on with our seemingly happy existence together. We have never had a big fight and you have, up until this point, treated me quite well. It's a serious conversation, so please sit down and brace yourselves for some real in-depth, conversational fun.
Hubby and I have been trying to get pregnant for almost two years and wondering why there has not been any "scares", of any sort. We are both young so it's not like we are beating limp-dick syndrome with Cialis or using turkey basters or test tubes. Neither of us are lazy so this is a bit weird. I never knew there was anything wrong because every doctor who examined you told me that you were beautiful and perfect. Like a plush, velvet baby couch just waiting to be rested upon.
Unfortunately, having cancer did not help. Almost four and a half years of chemotherapy beat my ass flat to the pavement like a trucker over a snake in the road. I tried so hard to swallow the pain of it all...searing internal pain that would almost drop me to the ground multiple times a day. The pain of my body healing never seemed to effect you too much, Uterus and Ovaries. Or, so I thought.
Last month, Mr. Doctor-man told both Hubby and me that both of you, Ovaries, are stopping short of your years. Chemo has taken you away from me, along with my beautiful fantasies of pregnancy and natural childbirth. I am almost 31 and am in pre-menopause. Hot flashes have been no fun either. This news has been so hard for me to absorb. I am so pissed off at cancer. I am so sad because so much has been taken away because of cancer. Life is never fair or easy but damn, this is stupidly ridiculous to have to endure.
However, we remain strong and ready to fight! Hubby and I are not going to stop trying until the last egg is released and both of you, Ovaries, shrivel up to tiny raisinettes. I hope you both have enough to keep up with us! Please stay strong and remember that I love you and I truly want our beautiful relationship to continue with ease.
Sincerely, Your Owner, Christine
I feel like it's due time that we have a long and in-depth conversation about what has been going on. This is necessary for us to go on with our seemingly happy existence together. We have never had a big fight and you have, up until this point, treated me quite well. It's a serious conversation, so please sit down and brace yourselves for some real in-depth, conversational fun.
Hubby and I have been trying to get pregnant for almost two years and wondering why there has not been any "scares", of any sort. We are both young so it's not like we are beating limp-dick syndrome with Cialis or using turkey basters or test tubes. Neither of us are lazy so this is a bit weird. I never knew there was anything wrong because every doctor who examined you told me that you were beautiful and perfect. Like a plush, velvet baby couch just waiting to be rested upon.
Unfortunately, having cancer did not help. Almost four and a half years of chemotherapy beat my ass flat to the pavement like a trucker over a snake in the road. I tried so hard to swallow the pain of it all...searing internal pain that would almost drop me to the ground multiple times a day. The pain of my body healing never seemed to effect you too much, Uterus and Ovaries. Or, so I thought.
Last month, Mr. Doctor-man told both Hubby and me that both of you, Ovaries, are stopping short of your years. Chemo has taken you away from me, along with my beautiful fantasies of pregnancy and natural childbirth. I am almost 31 and am in pre-menopause. Hot flashes have been no fun either. This news has been so hard for me to absorb. I am so pissed off at cancer. I am so sad because so much has been taken away because of cancer. Life is never fair or easy but damn, this is stupidly ridiculous to have to endure.
However, we remain strong and ready to fight! Hubby and I are not going to stop trying until the last egg is released and both of you, Ovaries, shrivel up to tiny raisinettes. I hope you both have enough to keep up with us! Please stay strong and remember that I love you and I truly want our beautiful relationship to continue with ease.
Sincerely, Your Owner, Christine
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