10. “TWEET WOMEN WITH RESPECT”

9. “A GIRL’S PLACE IS IN THE RESISTANCE”

8. “KEEP YOUR ROSARIES OFF MY OVARIES”

7. “THERE’S A SPECIAL PLACE IN HELL FOR KELLYANNE”

6. “ANTI-CLIMATE, ANTI-WOMEN, ANTI-IMMIGRANT, ANTI-WORKER, ANTI-HEALTH CARE, ANTI-EDUCATION, ANTI-CHOICE, ANTI-CIVIL JUSTICE, ANTI-TRUTH. SAD!”

5. “WHAT DO WE WANT? EVIDENCE-BASED SCIENCE! WHEN DO WE WANT IT? AFTER PEER REVIEW!”

4. “KEEP YOUR TINY HANDS OFF MY RIGHTS”

3. “HONESTLY, THERE ARE TOO MANY PROBLEMS WITH THIS ADMINISTRATION TO ADEQUATELY SUMMARIZE IN ONE SIGN”

2. “THE TRUTH IS GOLDEN. SHOWER HIM IN IT!”

1. “OUR FIRST BLACKMAILED PRESIDENT”
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

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On Thursday last week I got a second opinion. It was actually an identical opinion to the first one, so the only thing second about it was the order. I still have cancer (I wasn’t actually thinking that part would change). The tumor that is the nastiest is still oddly shaped, so taking even just that would mean losing the bottom 1/3, at least, of my right breast. The DCIS toward the center still makes surgeons want to take the whole breast. The tiny benign lumps toward the top still bring no one much joy or solace. Here we are.

I will say that I like this doctor very much. She strikes me as someone who has lived a life knowing that she is always the smartest person in the room. That’s my kind of doctor. Still, perhaps because she’s a woman, she did not dismiss any of my personal efforts at trying to get my health in order. She was not dismissive in any way. She answered all of my questions as though I was at least maybe the second or third smartest person in the room. I left feeling like she should be my surgeon person, which meant, of course, that there would be a wait to have her treat me. Dr. Smartest will not be free tomorrow.

I still felt okay. Actually, I felt a little lighter for the rest of the day. Maybe coming to terms with the very real likelihood that I will be under the knife soon, like it or not, settled something in my mind. I abandoned google and the Facebook cancer groups for two whole days. I spent a day playing activist with my daughter. I’d say, other than thinking about what to eat and drink and take, I barely thought of cancer for those two days.

Then Sunday I was trying to figure out how to get CBD oil (cannabis) and an MM card in Florida (I still don’t know), when I read a post by a woman dealing with bone mets in her ribs. She described the feeling in her ribs as an ache like a deep bruise. Ive been having intermittent pain in my ribs on the right, under the tumor site. At first, I thought I pulled something, but it didn’t really feel like a pull. I feel it more when I reach up high, it aches but doesn’t really pull like a muscle. On Thursday I didn’t bring it up with Dr. Smartest because I hadn’t felt it in days, makes sense that it would return on Saturday. So, now I have to call docs and see if anyone will do a CT scan or something for me.

Back to google we go. Back to the phone. I hate the phone.

Some days I’m just not laughing. I’m just not funny. I can’t go on and do the dishes and the laundry and make my smoothie and think about something else. Some days I’m just sad. Even though I’ve been told that my attitude is important here in Cancerville, some days are too hard. I can’t help but think about the worst possible outcomes. I can’t help but think every word I say to my kids this year should be carefully chosen. I can’t help but think I’m somehow wasting precious, precious time. It’s unreal and it’s painfully real at once. I don’t really know what to do with that today.

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10. “The head of Trump’s inaugural committee says the Inauguration is going to feature a ‘soft sensuality’. Does that mean that, when Trump fucks the country, he’s going to be gentle about it?”

9. “After the Rockettes perform, I hear Trump is going to greet each one personally – in his special way.”

8. “I just hope Trump tweets about this Inauguration with all the dignity it deserves.”

7. “If you’re wondering what that low rumbling noise is, that’s every dead President rolling over in his grave.”

6. “Trump is being sworn in with the lowest approval rating ever! Thirty-two percent! – I mean, that three points lower than Zika!”

5. “After the B Street Band, which is the Bruce Springsteen cover band, decided to withdraw from entertaining at Trump’s Inauguration, I heard that the C Street Band, which is the B Street Band cover band, decided to pull out, too. And, as of today, they’re up to the letter ‘L’.”

4. “I hope they wind up with the P Street Band – make that the P Sheet Band.”

3. “With what Trump’s said about delegating responsibility, shouldn’t they be swearing in Mike Pence?”

2. “So, in just a few minutes, George W. Bush will no longer officially be ‘America’s Worst President Ever’.”

1. “I can’t wait until he puts his hand on the Bible and it bursts into flames!”
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

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Since the night of November 8th, when a friend who was watching the returns with me started vomiting and had to go home, I’ve tried to understand (not just explain) what prompted 46% of America’s shrunken electorate to vote for Donald Trump. I’ve failed. What I do know is, we are about to reap the whirlwind – and politically speaking, they will own it.
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Someday I’ll break the NFL addiction, but it won’t be 2017. I’m nestled in watching playoff football lately, which means I’m also watching a repeated cycle of commercials. Toyota has one in which a hard-working young lad and his parents go through a path filled with bumps and bruises that ends up with a smiling college football coach offering him a full scholarship. That’s some good theater: Everyone’s all teary-eyed that the lad made it! [Read more →]

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10. “They’re having a 20/20 special on Trump’s inauguration that’s forced ABC to push back its premiers of Scandal and How To Get Away With Murder – to make room for the special about Trump called Scandal, and How To Get Away With Murder.” – Jimmy Fallon, January 11

9. “Penthouse is offering a million dollars to anyone who has compromising videos of Donald Trump. When he heard about the offer, Trump provided the videos himself. ‘I know a good deal when I see one.’” – Jimmy Fallon, January 12

8. “Donald Trump reportedly paid aides and staffers to cheer and clap for him at his press conference yesterday. Eh, it’s not the worst thing he could pay people to do for him.” – Seth Meyers, January 12

7. “The big story right now is that Russia has enough embarrassing material on Donald Trump to blackmail him. On the other hand, so does anyone who follows Trump on Twitter. ” – Jimmy Fallon, January 11

6. “There’s a story going around causing a lot of strong feelings on both sides. Here’s the deal: there are these troubling allegations that Russia has compromising information on Donald Trump, and for reasons I can’t explain, some are calling it ‘Goldengate’.” – Stephen Colbert, January 12

5. “Donald Trump seemingly dismissed unverified reports that he hired prostitutes to perform golden showers in Russia, saying that he was very much of a germaphobe. I guess that’s why, when he meets beautiful women, he doesn’t grab them by the hand.” – Seth Meyers, January 11

4. “The graphic images in the report are, in fact, shocking. But, you know, anyone who has been in Trump’s apartments already knows that he loves gold: golden chairs, golden bathtubs, golden toilets. Panel, anything else in a bathroom that could be, you know, golden? Three living former Presidents are going to be in attendance at Trump’s Inauguration — George W. Bush, Jimmy Carter, Bill Clinton — while most other former Presidents wrote back to say they can’t make it because they’ll be busy rolling over in their graves.” – Tom Hanks, January 14

3. “As for this claim that, during a trip to Moscow, Trump paid prostitutes to urinate on the bed, that’s bullshit! Like we’re supposed to believe Trump has started paying people who do work for him?” – Samantha Bee, January 11

2. “The British MI6 agent who put together this information, Christopher Steele, is now on the run. According to The Daily Mail, he was seen fleeing his home yesterday, and asked a neighbor to take care of his cat. Oh, you’ve got to protect the cat, because Trump is known for grabbing the pussy.” – Stephen Colbert, January 12

1. “Everyone admits this report is unverified, and the man is about to be President of the United States, so I’m not going to validate that report by sharing the most salacious details from it. Even the detail everyone’s talking about; you might call it the Number One detail. I think this is just an unfortunate leak that’s making a huge mess. And I know I’m being a wet blanket, but reporting on this is the worst kind of yellow journalism. And even though jokes about this are a golden opportunity, I won’t do it. Not to stay the story didn’t make a huge splash; it did. It flooded Twitter. We’ll keep you up to date as facts trickle in. We have our best researcher working on it; she’s a real whiz. One thing is for sure: the President Elect is a Goldwater Republican who truly believes in trickle down. So I’m not going to make any jokes, not even a wee one. So I’m cutting it off now; I’m finished. Wait, a little more is coming out. But after eight years of listening to Trump make unsubstantiated claims about Obama’s birth certificate, I don’t think it matters if this is true or not, because the fact is, it’s out there, and that means, Mr. Trump, you’re in trouble.” – Stephen Colbert, January 11
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

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Seriously, every time I watch a show or listen to a podcast, someone is either dealing with the impending death themselves or had a parent who died of cancer when they were young. At some point I might have to just give up and do a media blackout. What I really need is a cancer rating website. The show/podcast/movie gets a C if it contains cancer death, an NC if there is no cancer reference, and a FY (fuck, yeah) if the storyline contains a person who beat cancer and then died of old age. That should be a thing.
While I’m at it, I would also like a restaurant that serves all the food that fights cancer, prepared deliciously. Everything will be organic. There will be no plastics in the room anywhere, not even in the seat under your bottom. No dairy, no meat, no sugar, no gluten. There will be wild caught salmon on Fridays only (moderation, people!) And maybe, on late Saturday nights, when there is a band (with no cancer songs- EVER) they will serve baked potatoes. This place will know how to make broccoli and brussels sprouts taste amazing (without a grill in site. Because carcinogens.Duh.) It will make the most wonderful dishes out of berries and also mushrooms, not together obvs. There will also be more than one organic tea option, maybe more than 20. The real kick, though, what will sell the place to all the cancer peeps and their friends, is the incredible fact that flax oil and turmeric is added to everything, BUT YOU WILL NEVER TASTE IT! I have to stop, I’m getting excited, and this place will not exist.
I need that restaurant. Feeding myself is a part time job. Trying to eat all organic and fresh takes time. So much chopping. So much shopping. Lucky for me I’m also doing intermittent fasting. That cuts out a meal in the middle, though crafting a healthy snack can sometimes be just as laborious. Can someone invent a self cleaning juicer? I’m asking for a lot today. Better start playing my cancer card.
My other part time job is studying cancer. Today I was trying to figure out the results of some follow up blood work (while I listened to a guy on Fresh Air talk about losing his mom to cancer). No more accepting the CBC form with the results and then throwing it away because I have no idea what it means. Now, I actually need to know what it means. Today it meant that my Vitamin D level is just barely in the normal range, so keep up the supplements. My iron indicators have gone up a bit, but not enough. Still anemic, wah wah. My B12 and folate are good, though, so it’s definitely the iron thing. What I don’t understand is why my platelet count went down to normal. Still looking into that. Hey- maybe the cancer is gone?! WEEEEEEE! No more blogs. The End.

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10. “It’s so cold, your car won’t start running and your nose won’t stop.”

9. “It’s so cold, my aunt accidentally tripped and keyed someone’s car with her nipple.”

8. “It’s so cold, you leave your freezer door open to help warm up the house.”

7. “It’s so cold, throwing a snowball is legally classified as ‘assault with a deadly weapon’.”

6. “It’s so cold, you have trouble jump-starting your penguin.”

5. “It’s so cold, my snowman got frostbite.”

4. “It’s so cold, I chipped a tooth on my soup.”

3. “It’s so cold, a big-rig driver from Alabama froze off his truck nuts.”

2. “It’s so cold, someone stole your aquarium’s four glass sides…and no one has noticed yet.”

1. “It’s so cold, Hell actually froze over — which helps explain Trump becoming President.”
 

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So, it turns out that as far as cancer is concerned, I am not a mutant. No genes that make me necessarily predisposed to get this again. Though I will say that the genetic counselor made sure to let me know it is entirely possible that I am a cancer mutant, and that my particular mutation is as yet undiscovered. That’s a buzzkill, counselor! Apparently, if she were me, she would get a double mastectomy and have her ovaries removed as well. I will cling to as many of my lady bits as I can keep until they truly must go! That’s just how I intend to handle this.

In case you are wondering, I have drastically altered my diet and have begun taking supplements- some recommended by my probable soon to be surgeon, and some recommended by the lovely and talented TCM physician at Thank You Mama (to be fair, the surgeon is also lovely). I am also anemic and have to get that figured out and taken care of.

This morning’s appointment with the doctor was all about lumpectomy vs. mastectomy. No final final decision but I have to make it soon. Next up is to make an appointment to get blood work done- must check my iron again and look at my vitamin D levels with my GP. Then a consultation appointment must be made with a plastic surgeon. That is a sentence that I never thought I’d write! Then appointments for a second opinion, even though I do really like my probable lovely surgeon. I think it’s the right thing to do. This Friday I’ll be at Thank You Mama with my full test results to work up a complete game plan for the things that I can control (like what goes into my big ‘ol piehole).

I’m tired, but I’m trying to stay funny. Every once in a while I think about something that I need to teach the husband to do for the kids, just in case. You know, the mom things that I do. The stuff that just gets done and no one will notice until there is no one there to do it. And then I think: “Fuck it, just let him figure it out!” Ha! Just kidding. Then I push it out of my brain and try to go back to focusing on killing cancer, instead of focusing on the chance that it will kill me.

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I’m the type of person who works things out in writing. I make notes of my thoughts. I make lists. Facebook is the best, I swear status updates are like a combination of therapy and a vehicle for my need to feel like I’m entertaining people. If I didn’t write it down, or put it into font, did it happen? Maybe not.

Recently, though, I’ve been struggling with something that I haven’t shared online, for which I’ve taken no notes, for which I’ve just today started my first list of things to do. It’s been going on since September, really, and I’m just making my first list. Pretty easy to look back at the last few months and realize that I didn’t want it to be happening, but it turns out that I totally have cancer.

I did tell just a few people, family and some friends. My mother I told in person, because, you know, she’s my mom. My husband made some phone calls. I did send a few text messages. In regular life, I don’t do phone calls unless it’s an emergency. Texting is my favorite, but this time I would have rather not been communicating at all. I only told these people because I felt the need to explain why I’ve been avoiding everything and everyone.

The thing is, if you ask me how I’m doing, I will cry. If you ask me if my kids know (they don’t), I will cry. If you tell me that you care about me and will help out with whatever I need (I don’t know what I need), I will cry. I don’t want to cry in public.

I can talk about kids, the crummy school system, our new kitten, this hot and dry winter, the new Netflix series (or The Walking Dead, or GOT), TED talks, and podcasts, but not politics (not this year), and not cancer.

Initially, when we told a few people, it was a relief to not have to pretend anymore that everything is swell and that my new business isn’t quite taking off because I’m just moving slowly (I am moving slowly but I’m not taking my time, it’s totally cancer’s fault and apparently I’m also super anemic). Then I started to have to field phone calls and explain things that I don’t yet understand. I started to have to talk about treatments that I haven’t decided on, and listen to people cry as they tried to deal with things themselves. Opinions are beginning to arrive as well. I imagine that will only increase, and dramatically.

So, maybe this is as good a way as any, or even the best way for me, to share this with people. Hopefully they won’t call me crying, or ask me what I need (seriously, I don’t know. I could use a stiff drink but I read that it’s a no-no.) Hopefully they will still invite me out for stuff, and maybe won’t give me “the face” too much (the one that says: “I’m totally thinking sad thoughts about your cancer right now, I wish you would tell me how I can help.”) If you need to make the face, maybe make it toward my back as I walk to the bathroom.

If you want to know how I’m doing, physically, I have invasive ductal carcinoma in my right breast. It is stage 2 at 2.1 centimeters, though the cut off for stage 1 is 2 centimeters and my doctor initially was referring to it as “stage one, but kind of stage 2.” There is apparently no stage 1.5. The cancer is estrogen and progesterone positive, but HER2 negative. I hear that you really want to be HER2 negative, but when I met with an oncologist and made a joke about having “the good breast cancer” he did not laugh. I guess it’s not that good.

If you want to continue to know how I’m doing, physically or otherwise, you can check back here. I’ll need to keep working out my thoughts, and if you feel like you need to cry about it, you can get it over with before we hang out. Ha! (I do want to hang out, it turns out that people who close themselves off socially when they discover they have cancer tend to have a greater risk of death. My kids need me to live, so text me when you have time for tea. Hey! Maybe that’s what I need.)

Tags: ends & odd, health & medical, square one by Van McCourt by Van McO
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10. You can achieve everything you want, if you’re unambitious enough.

9. Politics isn’t left vs. right, it’s top vs. bottom.

8. Never get in line behind the Devil at the DMV, for the Devil takes many forms.

7. The speed with which a woman says, “Nothing,” when asked what’s wrong is inversely proportional to the intensity of the coming storm.

6. I’ll believe corporations are people when Texas executes one.

5. (for anyone in a relationship) Would you rather be right, or would you rather be happy?

4. War is God’s way of teaching Americans geography.

3. The face of a child says it all, especially the mouth part of the face.

2. We don’t negotiate with terrorists, except for the price of the weapons we sell them.

1. If you don’t think it’s all about perspective, just consider the fact that the sinking of the Tiitanic was a miracle for the lobsters in the ship’s kitchen.
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

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