Saturday, February 26, 2011

Is this how Dorothy felt? There better be some fucking munchkins somewhere. And a wizard. And some really fabulous shoes.

I fucking hate MS. I mean, I haven’t had an MS rant on here in a long while, so it’s only fair, but really? Really MS?? Are we just going to do this dance where you taunt and tease and fuck with me? Cause honestly? I’d rather pass.

The last many days I’ve just felt…. off. Not right. Partly like I could crawl right up out of my own skin and partly like I could rip someone out of theirs. Partly like I’m getting a cold and partly like every bone and muscle in my body is just aching for a revolt.

If it’s going to come? Then just fucking come already. Hit me with whatever you’ve got MS. Body pains, crying fits, brain fog that leaves me a barely functional adult, fatigue that cripples - whatever. Take your pick. Dealer’s choice. Let’s just have at it already!

This bullshit of it hanging over my head though? Thoroughly exhausting. I had one really good clear day in the last week. One. And while I really enjoyed that day? It just stands in stark contrast to every other day recently. Not a full on MS attack but not right either. I’m just…. off.

And I’m tired of it.

I’m tired of waiting for the storm to come. I’m tired of noting every little tick and twitch and ache and pain and wondering if it’s just a passing flit of whatever or if it’s the harbinger of MS doom. And that’s the thing with MS. When the attacks hit? It’s easy to look back and see all the signs that the storm was coming. The gray and foreboding horizon. The clouds rolling in. The thunder in the distance. How could I have *not* seen it?

There’s a storm on the horizon… something wicked this way comes… and whatever other catchy sayings apply. I just wish it would hurry the fuck up and get here. Or, you know, detour right on by me all together. Cause I am tired of feeling so off balance.

I’m just so tired.

Friday, February 25, 2011

I blame Buffy Summers.

During my New Year’s weekend marathon viewing of Buffy the Vampire Slayer episodes (as if I had anything better to be doing for three days straight), I came to the startling realization that Buffy is not only to blame for my distinct need to kick ass all hot-ninja-slayer-style but, apparently, I’m pretty sure I can now blame her for my career choice.

Did anyone else completely blank on the fact that in the season seven Buffy was hired as a high school guidance counselor??

(for real, people.)

((and yes, I am speaking as if you’ve all seen every episode of every season as I have. Because if you haven’t? you have better things to be doing than reading this blog.))

Now, I can put aside the fact that in the world of slayers, hell-mouths, demons, and hot sexy vampires, you apparently don’t even need a college education to be a counselor. Let’s also put aside the fact that Buffy does so little as a counselor that she, at one point, is sitting at her desk trying to balance a mug full of pencils on her head for fun. (really Joss Whedon? Really??? for shame.)

But, in one particular episode, a love-spell cursed varsity letter jacket makes Buffy (as well as her sister and other girls) fall in love with the high school quarterback. (because this *totally* happens all the time) Clearly, awesomeness ensues. Including, but not limited to, Buffy getting down with said hottie in the letter jacket in her office and an empty classroom. (and that *totally* happens all the time too)


No, it doesn’t. Ever.

Never, in fact.

What. the. fuck.

I’m all over here dealing with the kids and their parents and the teachers and the drama and never once did I find myself atop a hot (obviously over 18 cause otherwise that would be creepy) young stud on an empty lab desk.

Again I say….

What. the. fuck??!?!!

I was clearly sold a bogus bill of sale. Being a guidance counselor isn’t a damn thing like Buffy made it out to be.

(to be fair, I don't make it look as good as she did.)

((and I'm still not a hot pole-dancing ninja either.))

I am so disillusioned.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Sometimes having boobs is overrated. (not often, but occassionally.)

First, let me just get this out of the way: yes, I haven’t blogged in forever. Not that there haven’t been things to say (there has) and it’s not just because there hasn’t been much time for it (there hasn’t) but simply because sometimes the words don’t come. Sometimes, all the shit that’s in my head? gets trapped there. And my ability to articulate? is basically swallowed whole and all that comes out is equivalent to caveman grunts. Tree pretty. Fire bad.

(Buffy reference right there... cool points to anyone who caught it.)

This week at school, the committee for the Relay for Life is raising awareness (and money, because what good is awareness without fundage) by having the students wear a different color each day for the different cancers out there. Faculty is allowed to wear jeans (jeans!!! Will we pay money to wear jeans?? That is a resounding “hell yes we will!” cause work is somehow more bearable if I am bearing it in denim) if we make a $5 donation and follow the color/cancer of the day.

Today is breast cancer awareness and, having forked over my $5 for the week, I had to actually purchase something pink to wear. Because really? I don’t like pink. I know, pull my girl-card, but I don’t. Still, a quick purchase of a pink tank top – added to the cost of the $5 donation – still worth it to wear jeans.

(It clearly doesn’t take a whole hell of a lot to make teachers happy. Just sayin. The bar is pretty low people.)

So our school nurse, being the social-conscience-awareness-raising type person she is (wow, most awkward sentence EVER and this is why sometimes I go for months without writing and I am leaving it to make a point) sends out an email about the risks and warning signs of breast cancer. Being a person with boobs, I have been well aware of the warning signs of breast cancer for many years. Along with the yearly uncomfortable down-under poking and prodding that we endure, there’s always the awkward feel-your-boobs-for-lumps part of the exam.

Being a girl is super fun.

Part of the drug study I have allowed myself to be guinea-pigged for is to assess if the 8mg dosage of Estriol shows an increased risk of cancer - breast and uterine cancer, specifically. Now, as there are many types of cancer in my extended family, but no breast or uterine cancer, I felt like this was an acceptable risk to take. If I’m not genetically predisposed to breast cancer, that’s got to be better for my chances with the increased estrogen, right?

Oh school nurse, you dash my ill-informed hopes.

Things that can increase your risk of breast cancer include:

Being female. Women are much more likely than men are to develop breast cancer. (Um, okay, guess I’m not gonna escape that one.)

Increasing age. Your risk of breast cancer increases as you age. Women older than 60 have a greater risk than do younger women. (while I’m clearly not over 60, obviously my age is going to increase. I mean, the alternative? really not any better.)

A personal history of breast cancer. If you've had breast cancer in one breast, you have an increased risk of developing cancer in the other breast. (yay! not me!)

A family history of breast cancer. If you have a mother, sister or daughter with breast cancer, you have a greater chance of being diagnosed with breast cancer. Still, the majority of people diagnosed with breast cancer have no family history of the disease. (okay, so I was feeling good with that first part and then? then?? “the majority of people diagnosed with breast cancer have no family history of the disease” fuuuuck.)

Inherited genes that increase cancer risk. Certain gene mutations that increase the risk of breast cancer can be passed from parents to children. The most common gene mutations are referred to as BRCA1 and BRCA2. These genes can greatly increase your risk of breast cancer and other cancers, but they don't make cancer inevitable.

Radiation exposure. If you received radiation treatments to your chest as a child or young adult, you're more likely to develop breast cancer later in life. (I don’t think this applies to me. I mean, I don’t glow in the dark. Pretty sure I’m okay.)

Obesity. Being overweight or obese increases your risk of breast cancer. (fuck.)

Beginning your period at a younger age. Beginning your period before age 12 increases your risk of breast cancer. (fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!!!)

Beginning menopause at an older age. If you began menopause after age 55, you're more likely to develop breast cancer.

Having your first child at an older age. Women who give birth to their first child after age 35 may have an increased risk of breast cancer. (okay, I wasn’t quite that old…. but I was about 15 years past being an unfortunate teenage mother.)

Postmenopausal hormone therapy. Women who take hormone therapy medications that combine estrogen and progesterone to treat the signs and symptoms of menopause have an increased risk of breast cancer. (Um, yeah….. okay school nurse, I think I’ve had about enough now….)

Drinking alcohol. Drinking alcohol may increase the risk of breast cancer. (STOP. RIGHT. THERE.)

No, seriously, stop. They might as well cut my boobs off right now because truly? I am way screwed here. The estrogen, oddly enough, does help the MS….. the MS is going to be a life long thing.... (as will the drinking)….. maybe I just need to take a pre-emptive boob strike - as in, chop them off. We can rebuild them. Make them better. We have the technology. (because really, they do.)

I hate to see what the rest of the week will bring as we “honor” and educate ourselves about other cancers. I have a feeling the hypochondriac in me is going to be suffering from a lot more than MS by Friday. If I am worried about my prostate by the end of the week, someone should be worried about me. Just sayin.