I was going to go on and on today about all the crap I have been appreciating since I began to come out of the shock of my diagnosis with cervical cancer. Like, for instance, that I usually hate wind, even breezes, but I have been standing out in it on purpose just to feel the cold rush of it over my skin. I pretend that I am lying in a shallow river. I sucked on an olive the other day just so that I could enjoy hating it.
I was going to say crazy things like Cancer has its upside! and You get more candy when you have cancer! and Stuff that you forgot was important or never even noticed before is suddenly all so awesome! Yeah. Huh. I am not saying those things right now.
It is harder to say them when the uterus you are losing in less than a month (approximately) up and starts menstruating on you, like it has any stake in that business anymore. Fucking uterus. I spend years wishing it would shut up because I never wanted it, and now I am wishing it would shut up because it is upsetting to know it will be gone. There is just no pleasing some people, I mean me, because this is about me.
Wow, is that one crazy bit of this cancer trip. This is about me and my life, and I keep acting like I've got a minor fungal infection or something. My state of denial is illustrated in the following conversation:
Person: How are you doing? [Everyone asks me that now with a furrow in their brows as though to imply that there is something to confide, some secret pain I haven't yet revealed to anyone.]
Schmutzie: Fine. Why? [Making the other person bring up the cancer first is a surefire way to alienate friends and discomfit people.]
Person: Because, well, you know. You're ill.
Schmutzie: Oh yeah, that. Whatever. I'm good.
Uh huh. Yeah. That whatever really gets to the meat of the matter. So, I will write that other entry about the cancer rainbow of enlightenment tomorrow or next week or something, because I've got a crotch full of cotton and I don't know what to do with it, crotch full of cotton, crotch full of cotton.*
* That is a reference the song "Drugs In My Pocket" by The Monks and is not a sign of mental dysfunction. Press the arrow on the link below to listen the 1979 album that contains "Drugs In My Pocket".