Lettin' one rip

Dear friends,
I cannot fart. The title of this blog used to be "I shall never fart again."
And I keep forgetting to do a blog as to the specifics of why I can't. But, the long and short of it is, I don't have any lower intestine left. They've removed all of the colon, rectum, and anus. Yea, i know, i didn't know it was possible to remove THAT part.
Sooooo, that has all been removed, and to take up the role of the colon, they made a "pouch" or internal resevoir if you will, from my small intestine (which you have LOTS more of than your large).
That pouch holds everything I eat, til I choose (or IT chooses...those of you that know me know who Stella is, and what she demands of me) to empty it. And why am I briefing you on all this you may ask??
Great question. (actually, not such a great question considering you're reading a blog titled I am not an asshole) BUUTTTT...I tell you this, so that questions will start to bubble up in your mind. I certainly did not think of all the ramifications of this surgery, and perhaps that's a good thing.
One thing that very quickly became obvious to me, that may not be as appreciated by everyone out there...is the ability to just rip a big ol' fart.
Hell, maybe not even a big ol' fart. Just a plain little noiseless one. Or a gurgly juicy one, or one that makes you question whether things inside you are dying. Whatever it is, just the sheer act of passing gas. My oh my what a joy that is.
Since I can no longer do this, I miss it terribly. That's not to say that I was just some huge gas-bag that you couldn't take out in public, but who was great fun at parties.
by far.
I was your typical girl. Girls never farted. Pfff...
No, I denied it everytime. I didn't speak of it. I tried to go in other rooms, or the bathroom if I needed to. And maybe my denial of this ingenious body function has lead to this sort of gaseous karma, in which it has been snatched forever from my grips. Never again to bless me with the immediate satisfaction and relief achieved only by releasing that noxious air.

At this point, again, you may be asking yourself: Why am I not only briefing you on this, but going into way too much detail about it?
A couple weekends ago, I am proud to say, for the first time in over 12 months, I finally got to fart, thanks to a wonderful gift from my rockin' Colondar model co-hort, (miss april) Paula Ries.
You cannot begin to know how excited this gift made me.
but in order to attempt to illustrate my exuberance....
Yes...FLARP! fart in a jar. Noise putty. Now granted, this itty bitty jar of gassy fun, could have a bit more bass and resonance to it, but when you haven't let one loose in over a year, anything will do.
it's basically like silly putty, and you just push it into the jar and it makes varying fartlike noises.

Now. Important lessons I have learned from this little jar of farts....

1) Surgeons and Oncologists do NOT appreciate when you make fart noises during their seminars and lectures. Even if it IS at a colon cancer-related event. pfff...

2) Farting noises will not force your cab driver to turn off the ungodly icey and unnecessary air conditioner.

3) When you haven't farted in over a year...you have a lot of catching up to do. Allow yourself plenty of uninterrupted quality fart-time to satisfy your gas-passed deprived soul.

4) Fart jar putty does not come out of tableclothes so well.

Well, I'm not sure why I felt so compelled to share my little jar of joy with you anonymous folk of the internet, but...in the very odd and strange event you find yourself knowing someone who's fart-deprived, you have just found your answer. FLARP!

In order to make the perfect man...

You know, the man that every woman thinks she wants, the man that is sensitive and understanding. He shares his emotions, and isn't afraid to cry.

In order to make that perfect man..or maybe in order to make all men into the men women say they want, they should all go through cancer.

Or at least that is what me, and a fellow cancer-person have decided. But really it just got me thinking about how dealing with something as traumatic as cancer affects genders differently. I don't want to delve further into how different types of cancers affect different genders...I'd be writing endless dissertations on it at that point.
But its interesting to me if I take the time to look at how I think I've been affected, or changed as a person, and what that means for me. And how a guy at my age with the same type of cancer has been affected and/or changed.
Inevitably, you HAVE to be changed by the experience of being diagnosed, treated, and surviving something like cancer, in any form. You just have to. I don't think anyone will argue that point.
But HOW it affects you...and this can be a multi-faceted aspect of course. The joke between us was that men (this is a hugely broad assumption and generalization of course) become more 'in touch' with their emotions, and are alot more sensitive to the world around them and their loved ones. Sssooooooo, isn't that what most women say that want in a man? Luckily, I do not have to go seek this. I have what I want. BUT! If you're in the market for that strong sensitive man, boogie yourself on down to a cancer support group and get to flirting ladies!

(Disclaimer: the views conveyed in this message do not necessarily reflect the ideals and beliefs of the author. meant purely as philosophical cancer b.s.'ing with other like-minded good sense of humor having individuals)

(and p.s. I don't think all men are the same, and know full well there are LOTS of exceptions to those 'male stereotypes. I've been blessed enough to meet said exceptions)

You don't know

I am no stronger than you.

I am no braver than you.

I am no more inspirational than you.

I am not those things. I am only what you see in me.

I am scared. every minute. of every day. day in. and day out.

If you wake up with your house on fire, your bedroom engulfed in flames. Do you just lay there on your bed and say "Ah well. I gave it a good run. Might as well just lay here and kiss it all good by."

No.

You get the hell out of there. You run, scramble, lunge, bolt for the door. You gasp for air, you do anything you can to cool your singed skin. You get out. You lick your wounds. You look back and think "Good God, I got myself out of THAT?!?"

So why is what I did, or what I went through any different?

You know what's different? Jealousy. Jealousy takes on a whole new meaning. Everyone is jealous. It's in human nature. Envious, Jealous, whichever you want to refer to it as, in some form or another, everyone, in some stage, has it.

If I had a dime for every time in the past I wished something about me, or my life was different/better/bigger/nicer/ I'd probably not be in so much debt right now.

But that was before.

NOW? Now there's jealousy and envy. But it's much more broad. Now, if I had a dime for every time I wished I was just fucking normal...just plain as plain can be....just blend into the background nondescript average jane? Gggooooooooooddddamn I'd be a ga-fuckin-zillionaire.

I hate to sound rude. But you just don't know.

Afterglow

The setting: Lake George, Adirondack Mtns

You guys.
you guys have no idea.
I am coming down from a high.
I spent a whirlwind weekend tucked away in the mountains.
and fell in love with 18 people and one dog whom I'd never met previously.
We came from all over the country.
Backgrounds as different as can be.
Spanning the spectrum in age, and demographic, but all with one uniting theme.
These people (even the dog) were all touched in some way by the bastardspawn that is colon cancer.
but that almost became 'besides the point'.
They were some of the rockin-est, life loving-est, sick twisted sense of humor-est, bread bakin-est group of folk I've had the pleasure to call myself a part of.
And after the weekend was all said and done, we'd laughed together, built butt pyramids together, jumped off docks into gorgeous icy lakes together, sang together, stripped down and twirled ourselves in nothing but blue satin fabric together, branded ourselves together, learned new uses for tubesocks and strawberry shortcakes together, made mudslides, truffles, and focaccia together, and finally created a breathtaking 12 pages of iconic photographic goodness together.

I would go into detail about how each and every person i met that weekend will be with me forever, but it would just not do it justice. I would elaborate on why that weekend provided a sense of meaning and validity to the past year and a half of my life, but you wouldn't get a true understanding. I would hypothesize, metaphor-ize, personify-ze, analyze, and/or philosophize (typos intended to allow for greater literary impact ;) how this weekend with strangers who are now family, was one of the best things I've done with myself. but it just wouldn't even break the surface.

Now the glow is fading. The tattoo has scabbed over and healed. My impromptu bang trim has grown out a bit. The high is wearing off, but the memories are filed nicely away for easy access on those "I really need a smile" days.

Thanks Colondar. as I've said before. You rawk my world.

Colon Buddies

only some of the Beautiful Ones

Hier kom ik

So off I go into the wild blue yonder!

Glad to say that my mom, my two best friends, and I are leaving this afternoon for an 8 day stay in amsterdam.

Gotta flat rented for the week:
I'm TOO ready for a vacation. Insurance worriers be damned!

Europe here I come

Defeated

I think for the most part I've tried to refrain from posting on here when I'm really angry or upset about something.
I figure then it'll just sound like me whining. And even though my nickname as a child used to be "Becca-Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnneeerrrrrrr", I really hate whining.
When I do it, I hate the sound of it coming out of my mouth. So I've attempted to not come on here and gripe like it's my fourth grade journal.

But I'm just in about the foulest mood you could ever imagine right now. There isn't much else to do BUT whine in this instance.

Here's the scenario. I don't have health insurance. I had COBRA insurance from my former employer before getting diagnosed. It was crappy crappy coverage, but it was still coverage. However, COBRA ran out in February (coincidently just about when I finished chemotherapy. although that didn't really matter much b/c the COBRA benefits had been maxed out for months prior to that).

I cannot NOT have insurance. I need follow up PETscans and Upper Endoscopies pretty much indefinitely. So it was imperative I get insurance. I can't get it through my current employer b/c I am parttime, they are non-profit, etc etc.

So I hear about this program through the state of Illinois called ICHIP (Illinois Comprehensive Health Insurance Program). If you're approved, you can get covered, with no pre-existing condition, etc etc.

I applied, and got approved. Great news right? All worries solved for now?

HA.

The premium is $425ish a month. A MONTH?!? I can BARELY make $350 a month for rent, let alone regular utility bills, cell phone bill, and we're not even looking in the direction of my more than $40,000 in student loans. Nor am I even thinking about the way more than $125,000 still remaining in medical/surgical/treatment bills.

I just don't get it. I truly just can't see a solution. I do not have this amount of money. I do not have the option for making anywhere near enough at my current job. I am struggling to find a second job, or just a whole new job all together, due to the demands and constraints of this new plumbing system I had installed. I can't seem to be able to work a normal 8 hour shift with regularity. I'm lucky that my current employer is so understanding and flexible and has been there with me through it all already.

I don't apparently qualify for Social Security, SSI, Disability, Medicaid, etc. For who knows what reason.

I just don't understand. I feel very defeated. Very discouraged.

I don't know how people do it. How am I expected to pay this? It'd be one thing if I was just a normally broke fresh out of college kid. But I don't get a fresh start on this. I get to be held back by a year of treatment and surgery, barely able to work, and of course incruing massive debt well beyond even the most well established persons income. (let alone that I was not well established previously)

You always hear how a medical crisis just shatters people, not merely emotionally and psychologically, but financially as well. And I know the stories. But it's hard to fathom when it's you in that position. It's hard to dig yourself out of that pit of worry, anxiety, and fear. This wierd obligation I have. I've never imagined the statement "stuck between a rock and a hard place" to ever be so true. though for me it's essentially a life or death kinda true.

And well. That's it. I don't even have anything more to say. I barely can muster the energy to be angry. it's just too heavy. I'd rather just sink into a corner and disappear. money, insurance, the health care industry...all be damned.

The after effects noone mentions

I know i know i know....i'mma bad bad blogger.

I've been on a itty bitty break. Sorta forgot bout writing. No real good reason. Other than maybe, trying to get back to living.

It's cool seeing all the comments on here though. Sometimes people comment and I realize I have no way to answer em back. Which is sorta sad.
I want you guys all to know I do read every comment and I'm so honored, flattered, touched, surprised, embarrassed, and humbled that anyone even reads what I have to say.

It was really cool that I got a comment on my last entry from a nurse that I had at Cleveland Clinic in September for my surgery. It feels awesome that they not only remember me, but actually got online to see how I was doing.

And for that...to anyone that I've come across in this mad journey that is cancer...I'm doing well. I think about lots of the nurses and fellows and doctors I've come in contact with often. Believe it or not.

I remember one nurse (or nurse aid?) at cleveland clinic who sat in my room when my mom was out doing errands, and talked to me for the longest time about her sister, and their quest to decorate her sisters house by going to every yard sale they could find.

And I remember the Radiation Therapist who would buy at least 2 of my "CANCER SUCKS" bracelets every time she saw me (and seeing as I was there mon-fri for five weeks straight...that's alot of bracelets). She single-handedly outfitted almost every person working in radiation and the CT Scan dept.

And I remember the Stoma nurse from Cleveland emailing me months after surgery to see how I was doing, and to say how great my stoma looked.

And not even just in the medical area. From the first day I told people at work what was going on, the person that runs the cafe in my job decided there wasn't alot he could do to help me, but the one thing he could do was feed me for free the entire time I was in treatment. I didn't even realize til I came back from surgery and having not worked for two months how much of a help this was to me.

A friend who I didn't even know for too long, or too well at the time found out what was going on and singlehandedly organized, and executed an amazing classical concert as a fundraiser for me in a city that I had never lived or visited, on a school campus which I never attended, nor had any connection to.

And the Radiation Doctor who ended up leaving to a new hospital right on my last day of radiation, but made sure she was the one who saw me on my final day, and then gave me her personal cell phone number in case I had any problems later on.

A nurse that my mom works with, but whom I've never met decided her family and her would not give each other presents this christmas, but instead take money they would have bought presents with, and donated it to my fundraising.

There were so many people I crossed paths with that made the experience just a bit more bearable, and helped me continue to feel like a person rather than a number or a disease. This teeny tiny blog entry doesn't touch on even half. I wish I could detail out for you all how many amazing things that have happened due to such an awful diagnosis.
I felt I needed to take a sec to reflect on some of the more positive notes and all the great people I'm lucky enough to have in my life. Since I'm not in the greatest of moods right now, and my next entry will probably be a wwwwwhhhoooooollllleeee lot more negative.

but first...sleep is an order.

obrigado gentes