Ovaryacting

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I wish I had something really smart to say about all this.  I got nothin’.  It’s been around 6 months since I’ve written anything on this blog, mostly because I forgot about it.  Today I remembered, wishing I had someone to talk at, that would just listen and nod in agreement.  Here we are, you and I, go ahead and nod away.

Many endings and changes since December: my relationship ending, kids moving out,  sanity gone.  Not much would ever surprise me , or so I thought.  Then I found a cyst and my right ovary, had it removed in April.   Doctors determined it was ovarian cancer, stage 1.  I’ll be going back in two weeks from today to have all the rest taken out, including my appendix.  Then chemo for a bit. I’ll be in menopause and require HRT.

It’s an odd thing, having cancer.  It’s exactly what you think it would be like – full of denial, resistance, disbelief and all that, and I don’t have anything major, really.  Just need to do a clean sweep and I should be okay…fingers crossed.  It makes you ask a lot of existential questions; tease the unimportant from the truly valuable, and examine what control you do or don’t have.  It’s exhausting.  And enlightening.  I’ve decided I really want to be happy.  I REALLY WANT TO BE HAPPY!  Did you hear me?  And I’m not.  I don’t think I ever have been.  Most of what I do, most of the time, is not making me happy.  I know all the bull shit about choices, and focus and gratitude – I’m a fucking therapist for Christ’s sake.  But really, it takes doing something different, not just changing your self talk.  That’s where I am now, anyway.  I’m sure it will change.  My intent is to write about it for a while and see where I go.

Two weeks and counting…

I Leaked

I let it out a little.  Leaked some.  I was myself just for a few minutes with some office staff that I almost don’t hate, and lines were crossed.  Things were said.  There is no going back.  They know I’m not who I pretend to be.  They know I curse like a sailor, in general think men are walking hard penises and I don’t vote.  I’ll return tomorrow with my normal face on, in hopes they have had enough personal crisis to forget my abnormal self.