Chaos In Motion

I am grateful i do not have cancer. I am, believe me. But knowing this endometriosis is just going to keep coming back is depressing and stressful. There is medication for it, but…i no longer ovulate. I would have been a good mother… In my stories, i am. Speaking of stories…got nostalgic and read agift givn to me by LigeiaMaloy. It featured her amazing skills as a writer and BlastedKing’s Twin Scouts. Usually, i want to punch Mike in the face…but today…he was okay…😏 I miss a lot of things that seem to be gone or over now…not so much stuck in the past as i am having trouble letting go. ..wishing things didn’t change or some bullshit like that. ..not only will it take time for my body to heal, but it will take timee for the resentment and bitterness to go away, too. I still wannt to be reaching for a hand that isnt there…and…i am coming to terms that any part i played is over now. The spell is broken and the book closed on that part of my life. Again, depressing and sad when you are desperately reaching. I have lots of quotes, but right now, one is coming to me from “The Princess Bride.” The Dread Pirate has kidnapped Princess Buttercup and they are at the top of the hill…and i never remember what Buttercup says because i ignore her, but The Dread Pirate fiercely tells her this: “Life IS Pain, Princess. Anyone Who Tells You Otherwise is Trying to Sell You Something.” I think i get that now…i really do. From My Couch, With Love, Six

Originally posted by thegramlich

Still looking for love support and bumps. Anything to help until I can return to work.

Ever Grateful,
Six

Scar from surgery….I am pretty sure my belly button is permanently deformed or gone…but when they cut me open they didn’t find any Cancer!! What they did find was a huge benign mass and severe, SEVERE endometriosis. ..I may have lost function of right ovary and tube. And I will need continuing care so the endometriosis doesn’t return. I finally get a real shower…thank you Jesus! I am happy to be alive and moving again. On a side note, I weighed 210 going in to surgery. I weighed 203 yesterday. O.o

Reaching into the Tumblrverse to ask for help with my medical expenses and ease the burden until I am cleared to work again. There was very good news when they cut me open, but what they found will have to be managed for the rest of my life…plus I lost most of an ovary and tube. Thank you all for love support prayers and bumps. Peace & Love.

Anonymous asked: Hey, just read your post on cancer. If you appreciate being prayed for, like, will do. If not, then I mean, my thoughts are with you and I hope that your recovery goes well and that you kick cancer's ass.

Prayers are always welcome. And i plan on rolling this cancers ass. Thank you for the love. It really does help!

Originally posted by iglovequotes

cumberbuddy:

Bowie and Rickman, both 69, both beaten by cancer and both legends in their own right. There’s one hell of an odd, crazy fucking party going on upstairs right now. RIP Alan Rickman, 1946 - 2016.

(via randomqueens)

guardian:

Alan Rickman, giant of British film and theatre, dies at 69

Much-loved star of stage, TV and films including Harry Potter and Die Hard – and owner of one of the most singular voices in acting ­– has died in London.

Read about his life and career in The Guardian.

Ill miss this man.

(via bumpitybird)

I don’t want to sound like a martyr. The last thing I want is pity, remorse or loathing…I just want to be me…and just fucking be happy! I want to wake up in the morning and NOT have a million problems!

I have two people I love very much ignoring me. One because they are probably  so socially stressed out that I will never hear from them again. The other is pissed off because of something that was said and resentment hangs in the air like a stale fart.

*sigh*

I do not want to be the woman that blamed everyone else and “took” from someone else. I do not want something I cannot have. I am content with the cards I’ve been dealt…even though it’s a shit hand and the House is definitely going to win in the end.

Where is this all going?

I was diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer yesterday.

Not only did it spring up rather suddenly, they don’t know how bad it is. But my doctor is nationally recognised for this kind of surgery so I feel confident. But I’ve never had surgery…and I am scared…and I would have felt just a little bit better having one of the best girlfriends I ever had by my side.

They know there are tumours on the right ovary. Lots of them. But imaging could never locate my left one. On top of THAT, the tumours are pressing into my fucking colon and choking the shit out of it. (HAH!) So I may have to have my intestines cut and shit in a bag for a few months and then go back and have them reattach me to my asshole later.

I have to have a Port put in for chemotherapy.

They are taking both ovaries, my uterus and my tubes. 

They are taking all of the lymph nodes out of my legs.

They are pretty much gutting my undercarriage. 

The funniest part is, my father was more pissed off about me losing my organs than I was.  He kept telling me I needed a second opinion. This was too sudden. I was being irrational. 

He was the only family member that made me cry.

When my Gyno tells me my CA-125, an ovarian cancer indicator, is over 900 when it should be below 30, that’s probably a problem. When the masses seen on CT and Ultrasound are the size of a baseball…probably a problem.  When both my Gyno AND the woman that has been my Primary doctor for 10 years plus tells me that I need to listen to my Oncologist, I CONSIDER THAT MY SECOND FUCKING OPINION.

This cancer doesn’t fuck around. No cancer does, but ovarian cancer REALLY doesn’t fuck around…and the sooner they remove everything, the better my chances are.

For the last three years of my life, I haven’t been able to use my PTO for anything I HAVE WANTED TO DO.  It has been on HEALTH CRISES.  But this one takes the cake. 

I can’t work for almost eight weeks. I have to pray my bonus is huge because my company does not offer short term disability. My husband’s job doesn’t pay really well and let’s face it…we aren’t made of money.

All this…all of it…and the only things I care about are: 

Will my job still be mine when I return?

Will I be better than ever after?

It isn’t a question of life or death.  I am going to fight. It’s the only thing I am good at and know how to do well.  Only this time, I am fighting for myself because I WANT to fight.

A few fucking organs isn’t worth losing my life over.

And my father was going to be sorrily disappointed anyway.  I never planned on having children and neither did my husband. Our genetics would have made it HORRIFICALLY AWFUL for our child…and it would not be fair or right to do that to a human being. 

My father believes genetics and family lineage has nothing to do with diseases and traits. 

He must have failed out of Science, Biology AND Health class.

And when he says he knows about cancer, he SHOULD. HE’S THE ONE THAT GAVE IT TO MY STEPMOTHER. He was an active HPV carrier because he is a fucking man slut…and she developed cervical cancer. 

But this is completely different than that.

I knew…right there in that Oncologist’s office, I had to do this. I had to do it now and as my doctor said. I don’t know why…maybe instinct, maybe divine intervention…but in that second he said Ovarian Cancer…through the shock I was able to know…

This was the best option if I wanted to live. 

But you never know what could happen. You never know what may turn up or go down. I am really hoping I can avoid the poop sack. I really am. But, it will be what it is.

I guess…I needed to rant to someone other than my husband.  I needed to let out feelings into open air and shake them out.  I have filled three journals in the time I’ve been away from this blog. It helps, but it isn’t the same as airing your business in the open.

I owe it to anyone that still follows my blog to tell them this is real and it is happening. 

It is real.

It is happening.

This Friday at 12:30 PM.

My boss said good luck on my journey…and he’s right. It is a journey. I am off into the unknown. Uncharted territory. 

But the unknown has not stopped me before. I see no reason why it should now.

Gods willing, I will beat this thing…hands down.

I have a good 20 years left in me at the least!

I am not giving them up without one hell of a fight.

So, Peace, Love and Prosperity, darlings.

I’m ready.

Yours,

Six

Thank fucking Gods One holiday is down. I just have to drag my fucking ass through Christmas and the bloody cycle can rinse, recycle repeat.

Do I have anything to be thankful for?

Yes. Every Goddamn day. I don’t need the last Thursday in November to get together with people I pretend to give a shit about to be thankful for what I have.

Do I have something against holidays?

Yes. They have a lot to do with family.

Do I have something against my family?

You are obviously new. Go to the beginning and start over.

What about Christmas?

What about it? I have little need for one special day when I have a world of Gods, Goddesses and Angels I worship on a daily basis and of which I devote a good portion of my time. I don’t need a congregation or a book to tell me that which I already know and believe. 

You are a really unhappy person.

Yes I am. Gods am I fucking unhappy. If you had to listen to your mother after 20 years of her bullshit tell you that she might have been wrong in letting your “medical” problems go for so long without treatment you might be just a little fucking unhappy, too. 

I am fucking miserable. I love my JOB. Do you know why? Because that is why I get UP in the GODDAMN MORNING. That is the only time I SOCIALISE outside of my house. I have lost all or any friends I had…

I love my job because when I work hard I am acknowledged. When I do something there, I am fucking alive. I am making a physical difference. I feel like I matter.

From 8:30AM to 6:00PM I matter.

I am unhappy. Yes. I may be okay, but I am extremely unhappy.

I turn 31 on December 12th and I feel like the best of me is already gone. That’s pretty young to stop giving a shit.  But when my fucking psychologist asks me what I do for “fun” and if I have any “hobbies” or “friends.”

I am not even gonna try to lie my way out of it.

I’m just gonna laugh and tell him I don’t do anything for fun, I have no friends and my hobbies pretty much sit on their shelves.

I’m going to tell him I smoke for fun. Because I do. I smoke cigarettes like a MOTHER FUCKER. I don’t need to…the nicotene does nothing for me. But I do it because it doesn’t bother MY MIGRAINES and no one can stop me.

I am finally in control…and I am making my way up in the world…it isn’t the world I wanted or imagined, but it is working for me. I know who I am. I may not be pretty, talented or even socially acceptable…but I am about as good as I am gonna get.

So, if smoking pot helps me from not being in chronic, miserable pain, I’m going to fucking smoke it. If I want to fucking fall in love with a woman, I am going to fucking do it.  If I fall down and it takes me time to get back up, all ya’ll just gonna have to wait until I get my fat ass up off the ground.

There are a lot of things I gave up…they are gone…and I can never have them back.

I regret one thing in my life more than anything else. I have one regret. One that haunts me still. I know what anxiety, depression and pain can make a person do.

I know it takes an even stronger person to deal with that.

I took that for granted once.  I never will again.

But I still wouldn’t change anything I’d done. It had to happen. Whether I am the Spy and Assassin in this farce or I am the victim…it doesn’t matter anymore. Shit happens. Maybe we never know why…but that fucking sucks. 

If someone wants to spit in my eye, at least have the decency to spit right at me…not do it when my back is turned.  To walk on eggshells is tedious. Always suspecting an attack even more so…

I was done with drama in high school. Work, home…fuck…follows me everywhere…and developing a skin toward it has only made me bitter and recluse. 

So, do I hate the holidays?

So fucking much.

If I got the Christmas Miracle and couldn’t give it to someone else?

Just once, I would have the charisma, the talent or the intellect to show someone I admire from the bottom of my heart that they mean the world to me.  That for one moment…I could erase what I’d done…and I could be the warmth and comfort of a muse that has influenced me more than so many people know…and, I’d know…that for that moment, I held on to what I believed and I would feel that love and warmth again.

Even for a moment…I’d give just about anything.

Yours,

Six

What most people are going to do at work tomorrow.