Gross Anatomy

Anyone who knows me in real life or from previous blogs knows I’m generally a little too open about my body and its weirdness. Too Much Information is my normal state of existence. My nearest and dearest all hear about every burp, tickle and ooze.

This, however, is definitely TMI, even for me. But I am compelled to share it, just because even though it’s GROSS the eternal twelve-year-old that runs rampant in the vacant warehouse of my brain won’t shut up until I tell it SOMEWHERE. Also, there’s a punchline, and it’s a good one.

So if you don’t want to read it, don’t. If you do read on, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Joke I can’t tell at work

Woman who was pregant got caught in the crossfire of a gunfight and took three bullets in her stomach. They raced her to hospital and told her that she was just fine, the babies were fine, but the bullets were in a place they couldn’t operate. She would be perfectly fine to leave them alone.

So the babies are born, two healthy girls and a boy. They grow up, and when they are sixteen, one of the girls comes to her mom all scared and says, “Mom! I just went for a tinkle, and a BULLET came out!”

So Mom explains what happens and tells her not to worry, that everything is just fine. Girl goes away.

Then the other girl comes to her and says, “Mom! I just went for a tinkle, and a BULLET came out!”

Mom explains again what happens and tells her not to worry, that everything is just fine. Girl goes away.

Little while later the boy comes to Mom. Mom says, “I bet I know what this is all about. You just went for a tinkle, and a bullet came out?”

The boy bursts into tears and says, “No! I was just playing with myself and I shot the dog!”

Fear

I’m scared.

Let’s be honest here. My girlfriend has cancer: there’s a lot to be scared about.

• Doctor’s given her a 30-40% chance of surviving past five years. If she can go that long without the leukemia reappearing, she’s ‘cured’. Maybe.
• While her four-year-old refers to me as “Daddy Phil”, Kristy and I aren’t married, and I have no legal rights to the kid. Should Kristy not make it, I have to rely on her ex to allow me be part of the little one’s life.
• Even if the cancer goes away, the side effects of the chemotherapy will affect her for the rest of her life. She will most likely never have another child.

And I’m scared.

I’m scared of losing her, of losing the kid, of losing the life and family that I’ve finally found. I was with Lisa for 11 years and we never made the family that I have now. I’ve known Kristy for fourteen years, never knowing that she was even interested until last year, and now that we’re finally together, I could lose her.

I’m not crying here. I don’t feel like wailing at the unfairness of the universe (well, not much anyway). We have a large and wonderful support system, and Kristy is at the best cancer centre getting the best care from the best doctors. We have everything we need to give her the best chance possible.

Doesn’t make me any less scared. I’ll be scared through the next two chemo treatments. I’ll be scared while we wait for the results of the bone marrow aspiration to see if she’s still in remission. I’ll be scared every time she seems weak or pale, any time in the next five years.

And likely for ever after that. She’s living on the precipice of existence, and she could go over the edge at any time.

It doesn’t matter how strong my arms are. I won’t be able to pull her back if she falls.

Feels like starting over

New page. New start.

No, this place has nothing to do with 8-track tapes. I just like the word play, based on the fact I have way more than one thing on my mind at any given time.

I don’t have a particular plan here. I’ll post humour, sure, but you may hear more about my step-daughter’s growing pains or my girlfriend’s cancer treatments than you’d like. Fair warning.