One could only hope, right? Well, that would make me happy but seems like the snow has hit the whole damn country the past few weeks! As it is I am plugging along, and I felt the need to remark this as a quiet reminder to myself and also because I am terrible at notating certain things because it doesn’t seem newsworthy or it might seem like the kind of thing I could never forget.

Yesterday I went to visit with a possible new primary care physician–a visit at first initiated by my need to get certain lady things checked out. I have been a bit behind in that because I have had the same partner for 7 years just about and also because, God, really? You kinda suck in spades if you give me any of the lady cancers because number one, I can’t have kids anyways, and number two, I BARELY have boobs. Doesn’t matter though, as a few people have pointed out, neither did Nancy Reagan and she fought breast cancer. Soooooo–there is a lump and honestly? I have done self-exams literally a handful of times in my life because it seemed unnecessary as I clearly have nothing there so any changes might be obvious. And so there is a legit lump and I am still a little surprised given I sometimes am an alarmist with certain things and generally do assume I am freaking out for nothing. But this time, not so much. There is a thing there which means I have to visit the boob, err, nipple smasher in a few weeks to have it further examined with either that or an ultrasound or both. Certainly I see no need to smash my nipples in a machine if they can just cold gel wand me, but–I am not the doctor. The physician did say it was pretty small but he did feel it so it does mean that…

Am I worried? Nah. I am more worried about the pelvic exam results as that is sure to be off and cancer there has been mentioned more than a few times in my life as a worry. I have decided I am certainly no breast cancer or cervical cancer warrior so if it did end up being either one of those…no chemo, none of that. I will just die naturally or rather…slowly until it sucks and hurts, then I kill myself. I told the doctor my whole identity has been wrapped up in the heart surgery shit that having the bad luck of cancer is just going to be that, bad luck. Not another problem for me to contend with, just bad luck. And I might have no problems, which I am certainly leaning on an outcome to wish on, but sometimes I don’t have enough of that for sure.

This is not to say I would be avoiding practical treatments to rid myself aside from chemo–if there were other options, sure, but no fucking way am I going to go dealing with poisoning cancer out of my body by poisoning myself. There is no reason there for me to deal so I just won’t. And at the end of the day I have had a very fucking lucky and long run with the amount of scraps holding me together. Bla bla bla is what I hear for any other option and trust me–I have had a long and friendly relationship with death in many respects because it is something I have had to entertain more than most–and I am not afraid of it. I don’t WANT it, no, but I am also thinking the amount of misery I have endured during recent years and the past 5,6 months–it was a waste of my time and focus. I am trying to do as much as I can, to see as much as I can, to read and understand as much as I can because that is all I can take with me in some respects–if nothing else I should start documenting shit better which I guess is what this was about.

Anyways, the primary care doc yesterday said, well, you sound realistic about life expectation, there would be a 75% chance you would die I am sure in childbirth (I think more like 100%), but I would like to offer you counseling services. i said, “I lived in NY–I had many therapists and I cannot tell you one thing I got or remembered about a single thing any of them said but, apply for disability. I think I have had 2 decades to deal with issues and I have never ever been medicated for anything like antidepressants or any of that, because, well my brain is just THAT good. I kid, but I also am not kidding–I mean, yeah, sometimes I am mildly admittedly suicidal, but never for very long. I am too fascinated by life and people to just off myself. And since I have Don and Duke that would be a mean thing to do.

But the head space my mind has occupied has been a fuck of a lot better the past few weeks than it has been in some time. The rejection sucks, hell all rejection does, but I am certainly not going to let it cripple my thoughts to bad shit anymore than I have. This is how I work shit out when it feels like all the world is against me–I think it out, I reason it out and there is no reason not to hope for a better today and tomorrow as yesterday is already done.

And that reason is probably not well suited to every circumstance I work out, but I have avoided intervention with antidepressants because–they don’t make a pill for fucked over, as Don often says.

Stay safe, everyone–and do something out of your character nice for someone today and let me know how it goes. Any day you read this is good enough for me.