Post
by help » Mon Aug 04, 2008 7:40 am
My aunt has cancer. A once vibrant and mellow soul has been reduced to a bed-ridden lump of humanity who can no longer talk. Esophagial (sp?) cancer, presumably caused by years of personal societal rebellion in the form of cigarette smoking has claimed another body. hospice is in the house, helping her son and daughter-in-law, and their six children deal directly with the impending day she will slip this mortal coil. They imagine she is trying to hold on until her first great-grandchild is born later this week. As I type one-handed, my choice of nicotene-induction/delivery system continuing to fill an already over-loaded ashtray from the other, i am filled with self-loathing. My experiment in "Are cigarettes really that addictive?" a proven failure to my hypothesis of "No." Fuck me.
My grandmother had cancer. My mother has had atleast two different cancers, my father multiple operations for skin cancer, and yet I seem to lack the ability to drop this filthy habit, and re-task my lighter for better burns of different types. Fuck.
19 days to my annual "Week of Self-improvement," and my knees are the size of grapefruits. Doc says the prednisone will help reduce the inflamation, just stay off my feet as much as possible. Sure, doc. Fuck.
Playa prancing without any dancing? That's like going to a corn roast without teeth, or an ice cream social when you're lactose intolerant. Fuck.
Self-discipline is the hardest exercise of all. Double-FUCK.
Fuck. FUCK.
Time to buckle down, and un-fuck some fucked-up aspects of an infinitely fair, and often fucked-up existence.
And I'll see You on the Playa. Looking fucking forward to it.
)'(elp
P.S. "Could I bum a smoke..."
Fuck. Here we go again...
fucking A, my mom doesn't have cancer. She has a fucking blood disorder. The doc gave us a 5 dollar name which I cannot remember. No more IVs, no more blood, just new meds which work. She's getting Aricept for Alzheimers.
