Thursday, August 7, 2014
Dear melanoma (no I won't capitalize your name, you don't deserve it),
Well, aren't you a sneaky little bitch! 2 and a half years ago you sent your dirty little minions, pre-cancerous cells, to take root on my chest. That wasn't cool, and I evicted them with a little slice and dice. Clearly that angered you as you decided to just move in yourself. Well, I've got news for you too: No Vacancy!
You arrived 2 years ago shortly after I did away with your little precursors. I let you hang out while I worked 3 jobs, took care of my kids, and husband, and house, and basically let too much time go by before I had a professional say, "You've got cancer." You almost fooled them though, you deceitful shit. Very sly to show up looking like a sunspot. Well played. Good thing for me, I've got the power of Penn Med behind me. We weren't falling for your disguise, and biopsy we did.
Now, I can't say I was pleased to get the news that I am polluted with a disease that would kill me if not removed by surgery, radiation, or chemotherapy...but, hey, what's a little skin cancer right? Oh, yeah the whole kill ya dead thing. Still, didn't freak me out. I have spent over a month knowing you're just hanging out feeding on my healthy cells (Dude, do you have any idea how much work I've put into the whole having healthy cells thing? Not cool.). I've really been "OK". But I must admit, when I walked under the cancer treatment center sign, I might have gotten a huge knot in my throat and stood paralyzed unable to find my way to the correct office. Still, I smiled and took the help offered by an aide, who got me to the right wing and elevator.
Here's where you messed up, my intimate enemy, though I've been relatively cool with your very temporary habitation, it is totally freaking everyone else out. And that's where I can say, melanoma, you don't know me very well...at.all. I don't tolerate anyone or anything that fucks with my loved ones. You really sealed your own fate with that one. Tomorrow I will evict you, just like I did your predecessors. You will be cut out of my chest and my arm. My friends, and family, and I will go to bed knowing that although I'll have a couple of craptastic scars, they're a lot prettier and less deadly than cancer.
I will be seeing a doctor more in the next couple of years than I probably have in my life. I'll have every inch of my body checked every 3 months, toes and butt cheeks spread and boobs lifted (no not "lifted", I wish, but picked up to check under). My lymph nodes will be felt up regularly. I'll be biopsied with each new mole, freckle, and sunspot, and probably some of the old ones too. I concede that you, dear melanoma (yeah that made me throw up a little), will be a permanent part of my life. However, you will not be a permanent part of my body. Should you make a reappearance, I will deal with you accordingly. You will be cut, radiated, and chemo'ed until you give up the hell up. Face it cancer, you shit bag, I will win. Whether it's tomorrow or years from now, you're ass is going down. Might as well wave the white flag.
With all the disgust I can muster,
P.S. I'm super involved and so are my friends. Next cause is likely to be anti-melanoma. Just sayin'.
P.P.S. I'm watching Impractical Jokers right now. So even the night before cancer surgery, I'm LOLing...So There!
P. P. P. S. If I had a good photo editing program, I'd draw a middle finger on the picture below.