I found this title on a pair of socks on Amazon, now I have to have those socks! Someone send them to me, please? Let’s see if I can figure out how to put the picture in this post somehow….hmm. Oh – and the link…somewhere down below.
And looky there. I did it. Damn, sometimes I surprise myself.
Anyway, anyone who knows me knows that I have a thing for crazy socks. Socks that have perverse or obscene language are a particular plus…but they can be just cute animal lover type also. Doesn’t really matter, just sick of wearing plain white or plain colored socks. Aren’t you? I have this vision of dying in a pair of the most awful and insulting socks one could possibly find; to make the nurses laugh and…well to make anyone who wants to cry, laugh.
Speaking of dying, I still am.
I haven’t written for quite some time because for whatever reason I fell into some deep-rooted depression that even I can’t explain. Pretty sure I am still there, however, this was the first morning I woke up and took a shower – rather, forced myself to get out of bed and take a shower – and now…well now I want to do something. So here I am. I’ve never been depressed so it took me a few weeks of not getting out of bed and only showering every few days to figure out there was more than a little something wrong. And now I am seeing a therapist…to talk about how in the holy hell I can live and die at the same time. Not sure if I will ever have the answer to that question.
Why not, you ask? But Cin, you are living and dying right now, you say? But Cin, isn’t everyone living and dying at the same time, you ponder? Um…that depends, is my concrete response. It depends on your definition of both living and dying. To me, living is not simply being awake and taking a breath every few seconds and listening to my heartbeat over and over and over. Living a life is more than that, isn’t it? I have lived. In fact, I have lived several lives. I should know. Betchya want me to elaborate on that one, eh? It screams drama, haha!!
Oh, the stories I could tell about living….some would put Mother Theresa to shame, some would (hopefully) make her proud. But the real juicy ones – those are the ones I swore I would never tell. The ones that, at many points in time, I promised my soul that a peep shall never be uttered. But what fun is that hmm? I’m taking a chance here ya’ know. The crap that swarms my brain every so often may be absolutely nothing anyone wants to read or hear or see for that matter. On the other hand…I do know from talking to just one of my besties that my drama is the diva drama of all time. And I have been told on several occasions to write a book. That regular peeps (unlike myself) wouldn’t be able to put it down and would be screaming for more. So…something to think about at least, right? Should I keep writing or should I just tank it and go back to bed?
Well, my bed isn’t an option today. Today I go see a surgeon for yet another abdominal surgery. This surgery to fix the anastomosis that was likely screwed up the very first time, which has contributed to two surgeries and three hospitalizations of total discomfort. What a mess. We will see what he has to say. Surgeons love to whip out their knife so it is likely that he will be all gung-ho for carving me up, again. At some point, all of this surgery has GOT to be killing brain cells in droves. No wonder I am depressed. Cancer isn’t enough…its everything that comes after the diagnosis that kills a person!
Back to whatever it was, I was saying before I got stuck on the surgeon. Oh! Stories. Yup, I have many. Pick a topic. I bet with 98% certainty I have something in my closet to say about it – all truth mind you – one doesn’t get to be a totally cynical 47-year old cancer patient without true diva drama. Seriously. Pick a topic. It will give me something to do the next time I take a shower instead of pulling the covers back over my head. I’m waiting.
After an hour of clicking on buttons, I figured out how to give you the web address for the socks. Yeah, that took brain power I hadn’t saved for yet and three minutes of my life I’ll never get back. You’re welcome. Feel free to buy them and send them to me – LOL. Or buy them and wear them yourself…but you have to wear them. Deal? Oh! Here’s a thing; if you find a topic for me to write – some sort of true diva drama story – and it gets published somewhere…I’ll buy you socks. Hows that?!
Just in case you want to donate socks…