The Breast Unicorn

I've been blithering on all week, so just a short post today.

When my hair came back after chemo, it came back really curly. I used to have a few small waves in my hair, but most of it was straight. The waves used to drive me crazy because they always ended up ruining my hairstyle in one way or another. As a matter of fact, before cancer treatment, the hair I currently have would have driven me crazy. It's impossible to style and kind of curls in unexpected places and directions. The hair right over my ears flips forward towards my face. People tell me they can't believe I ever had long hair. They think the current length is fabulous. It's about 1.5 to 2 inches long. I'm happy. I'm just happy to have hair. I've come to be very accepting about things that would have made me miserable a year ago. Yay for breast cancer!

Surgery is looming in front of me. January 8. Whenever the thought enters my mind, I have to banish it almost immediately. It's terribly anxiety-provoking. The thought of being in a hospital for a week, the thought of the nausea/vomiting I experienced during the first two surgeries, the prospect of having a couple of drains attatched to my body--it's all pretty awful to contemplate. Over and above all that, the nagging question is, when will they stop hurting me? I'm tired of being hurt. Really, really tired.

However, my choice to do this now does have some up sides. I like to think that, in the not too distant future, I can be through with the hurting. I will also have a breast again. That's very exciting. My prosthetic breast has developed what I like to think of as continental drift. It edges its way towards the center of my chest. It's kind of like a breast unicorn or something. I just try to find a private place and rassle the damn thing back over to the side. I have no idea why it started doing this. I've lost some weight, so that may be part of the problem. The thing is, I'm okay even with that.

There's nothing like a year of cancer treatment to increase your ability to accept where you are physically. Weird ass hair, breast in the middle of my chest...it's all good to me. Seriously, breast cancer, though I wish I never had it, has been a good thing in many ways. However, this is about as much growth in self-acceptance that I'm ready to have right now. I'd rather not deal with the prospect of cancer returning somewhere. Breast cancer can metastasize in various places throughout the body, but no matter where it is, it's always still breast cancer. Enough, enough! No more growth experiences!

Having said that, I'm putting all of this out of my mind for the day. The breast unicorn is signing off for the week.

This is Exactly Why I Hate Them All

I used to work in politics for a while and I became very jaded. I've seen how it all works and the process leaves a lot to be desired. Time has only made me more cynical, so my usual political commentary comes down to "I hate them all." Democrats. Republicans. I hate all of them. George W. Bush has a very special place in my heart, though. I thought I'd never hate anyone as much as I hated Richard Nixon, but W. wins hands down. How surprising to find out that my capacity for contempt is even greater than I ever thought, but to anyone who knows me, this is old news by now.

The Iraq Study Group is really what's on my mind today. I'm deeply puzzled as to why anyone thinks this presents an alternative plan. Behind all of the hoopla , there's just another paper tiger. If I remember correctly, for about a year now we've supposedly been training the Iraqis to take care of their own internal security. We've been training, training, training, according to the Bush administration. Of course, this is exactly what the Study Group has courageously stepped up to the plate and advised us to do.

I don't think we even have new benchmarks from the Study Group. It's all well and good to tell people that they need to step up and take care of their own killing, but what happens if they don't? It's the carrot and the stick strategy. Pretty basic, but you have to set some timetables for that happening or guess what? It never will. I don't understand what is supposed to motivate these guys to adopt the broader view, step outside of their religious beliefs and be willing to get killed to establish order. Oh yeah, order and democracy, with which no one in that country has even a passing familiarity.

Frankly, it feels like just another scam perpetrated on the American public. These guys get trotted out and remind us that, even though this is probably the stupidest military endeavor we've ever been engaged in, we have to stay. Even though the money is draining out of our economy like we just severed a major artery and we're bleeding to death. Democracy? I sincerely doubt that will happen in my lifetime. The Bush administration chose to ignore history and is trying to ram democracy down their throats. Saddam was the only person who was ever able to establish and maintain order in that country. He accomplished this goal by institutionalized terror. There are an awful lot of Saddams in this world, unfortunately. What makes Iraq so special? Oh wait. I forgot. W. has God on his side, just like the terrorists. Destroying the country was just part of God's larger plan to foment democracy and spread Christianity throughout the world.

Sooner or later, the country will be just one big battleground, whether or not we stay. We've opened the door to Iran's religious sectarians and allowed them to come right on it, kick their shoes off and stay a while, along with every other extremist in the region. Saddam was scary enough to keep all of that in check, but Iran has nothing to fear from Iraq now. That's deeply troubling, even to the Bush administration, I think. Maybe not to W. and Dick Cheney, but certainly to anyone in their right minds.

I guess the big news from all of this is that a 10-member, bi-partisan panel has all agreed that W. has really fucked up in every conceivable way. Big deal. Most of the American public embraced that understanding some time ago. It's just official now. Wow. That makes me breathe a sigh of relief. It doesn't seem to me that the report has been persuasive to W. at all. There was nothing to indicate his mind had been changed about anything. Not that it matters. Stay or go, we can't win here. We can't win, in part, because the premises upon which the invasion was based were false. Having been unable to come up with the dreaded weapons of mass destruction or to establish any link whatsoever between Sadaam and Bin Laden/Al Qaeda, we've been scrambling to define success ever since. If you can't define it, you can't achieve it. Pretty simple, right?

As for the Democrats, they haven't got a plan either. That's because there is no plan that will get us out of Iraq despite massive amounts of money being dumped there and a whole lot of American lives being lost. They're going to hold hearings. We all know how successful hearings have been in solving anything. It's just an opportunity for Democrats (and Republicans at this point) to get some face time on television and pontificate about what a bad idea all of this was. Meanwhile, the Democrats knew just like anyone who wished to know that the assertions upon which the invasion was based were lies. They were intimidated into doing something they knew was wrong. I have absolutely no interest in watching any of them harangue Administration officials for a month or two. If just beating up on them would make the situation better, believe me, I'd be the first to support it.

I think that was one (note I said one) of the problems Kerry was unable to overcome. He supported the war and, when it became inconvenient to his potential Presidency, he had to find a way to backtrack. That's tough to do when you're unwilling to speak the truth. During the time leading up to the invasion, Bush and his croneys were busy convincing some of us that the very viability of our country's future rested in invading Iraq. No question about it, Al Qaeda was working hand in hand with a person they would consider to be an infidel. Patriotism became defined by your willingness to agree to that proposition. Though there was considerable evidence to indicate that wasn't true, the Democrats didn't wish to be thought of as soft on Al Qaeda. They tucked their tails between their legs and cast their votes and their political futures with W. Now it's time to reap the consequences. However much they like to feign outrage over the Administration's duplicity, they knew. Intellectual dishonesty. Ethical dishonesty.

So here we are and here we'll stay. Our grandchildren will suffer the consequences of this grave error in judgment. Maybe even our great grandchildren. There's a whole generation or two of Iraqis who will remember that we plunged their country into darkness and were unable to help them find their way back out. Let's get another study group going and see if they can figure out what that will mean to the future of our country.

Maybe I've gotten this off my chest now and I won't have to veer off into political diatribe again. I'll just be seething silently.

Are Hors D'ouvres Even Worth It?

First things first. I dressed up today so it definitely looks like I'm going to the party. I'm not particularly committed to it, though. I found out that the food won't even be served until around 5:00. I had originally planned to go at 4:00, have my free meal and leave. No talking to anyone. Well, that's not possible anymore unless I'm just doing hors d'ouvres. Is it worth going for that? I don't know. I guess I need to find someone who knows what kind of hors d'ouvres we're having. I wonder if there's any way I could just do a take out thing. You know, just show up, put some food in a box and head on home.

There was a long, long time in my life when having people be excited I was going to come to a party would have thrilled me. Now, not so much. I think there are a couple of reasons why being likeable isn't a completely positive thing for me. I'm very, very introverted, so being with others can wear my batteries down pretty quickly. I'm also highly empathic, so I just soak up other people's emotions to some extent, even if they don't talk to me about how they're feeling. I've learned how to shut that down a bit, but going to large social gatherings always ends up making me feel frazzled emotionally. If I absolutely have to participate in big social events, I like to find a quiet corner and watch everyone else. I don't think that's going to be possible if I hang around too long. By "too long" I mean past 5:00 p.m., when the food is served.

Well, there's no point in beating this dead horse. I'll either go or I won't. If I had to bet money on it right now, I'd say I'm not going. Just give me the damn box with some meat in it and maybe one of those slightly soggy foil-wrapped potatoes and let me be on my way.

I was going to switch subjects here, but the more I wrote, the clearer it became to me that I just need to write about them separately. There's been a little levity here and the next topic is deadly serious. If you're not interested in my political opinions (and there's no reason anyone should be), just take a pass on the next post.

Holiday Party Blues

"Next to a circus there ain't nothing that packs up and tears out any quicker than the Christmas spirit." ~ Kin Hubbard

My company has an annual Christmas (or holiday, take your choice) party, just like a real company. Since I used to be the person who planned and organized it, I used to be forced to attend. Back when all of the trouble began, I stopped going. (No, I don't wish to talk about that right now.) It was so liberating to watch everyone else scurrying around, being stressed out. Had I decided to attend any of these events, I wouldn't have had to work. Not in the usual sense, anyway.

I would have had to talk to our contract employees while attempting to eat, though. We all know how asocial I am (thank you, Therapist, for that word), but it was much more than that. Our contract employees and I have absolutely nothing in common. I used to stand around, trying not to drop my taco meat on my clothing and listening to someone drone on about things that I know nothing about and care about even less. One Christmas, an electrician, so loaded he could barely stand, held Hubby and me hostage for about 45 minutes as he regaled us with an inventory of his "gimme hats." He told us that his stepson had recently asked to borrow one of the more than 200 from the wall in his house dedicated to the infinite variety of caps. Them was fightin' words, buddy! Those hats were sacrosanct and the stepson was just going to have to go rustle up his own gimme cap collection.

I endured Wally the carpenter for a couple of Christmases. Wally was a former Viet Nam vet who liked to recite his poetry to people, whether or not anybody was interested. The last year he attended, he told the banquet hall people that he personally generated over $200k a year for the company. That figure would have been correct had he been talking about the cost of his workers' comp injuries. He intimated to them that he was the one who was really in charge at the party.

I've never been very good at making people go away. I'm from the South and we all just sort of soak up hospitality that floats around in the air down here. I certainly didn't have any particularly advanced etiquette training while I was growing up, but breaking the rules established by my father was extremely perilous. My dad didn't have a lot of rules (and mostly they were rules only I was supposed to follow), but failure to adhere to them had dire consequences. His rules were primarily centered around food. I was never, ever, ever allowed to eat anything when there was someone else visiting. Otherwise, I'd have to invite them to partake, too. Seeing as how my dad often liked to growl at the dinner table for his own amusement, I wasn't all that anxious to have people over for dinner.

But I digress again. I took the etiquette thing to heart and really paid attention when people did things that looked like they were motivated by politeness. Therefore, I'm gracious to a fault. At the end of every party, I'd go home feeling like I'd spent the evening with a roomful of vampire bats that just sucked the life blood right out of me.

This year the party is going to be at The Texas Land and Cattle Company, a steakhouse that I would normally never visit because of the cost. I don't know what the hell I was thinking when I mentioned I might just want to go to the party this year. Everyone in the office pounced immediately. I was locked into the whole deal. My co-workers find me infinitely entertaining or something, I guess. The minute I started backpedalling, they got demanding. "No, you have to come. You have to." One of the women has to leave early to attend her son's basketball game. "Oh no! I wish I didn't have to go...Ggirl is going to be there this year."

That's profoundly puzzling to me. My therapist says it's because I'm likeable. Well somebody should tell me how to not be quite so likeable and I'll get right on that. I don't need that kind of attention and I'd really prefer it if they'd transfer some of that affection to someone who actually wants it. The party is this Thursday and I already feel beaten down by fatigue.

I can expect a couple of my workers' comp boys to be there. After all, what else do they have to do? One of them in particular, who's already told me he'd be there, is just the bad Wally dream revisited. This guy's not a veteran. It would help his case with me if he were. I have PTSD. It's a bond I feel with vets that they don't even know about. I'm very inclined to cut them some extra slack. This guy is just annoying. And whiney. Talking to him is a lot like talking to a tree. There just doesn't seem to be a lot of communication happening.

I'll bet we've got a whole crop of annoying guys I haven't even met yet. Gimme cat aficionados. Multi Level Marketing mavens. Dallas Cowboy enthusiasts. There's nothing wrong with any of that. There's not much I can add to the conversation, though. I guess the good news is that it doesn't matter to them that I know nothing about the subject matter. They never notice the glazed over look in my eyes as I nod and smile and try to keep my taco from landing on my blouse. Except this year it will be sirloin. At least the food may be a little easier to handle.

Note to self: Never ever express even a vague interest in the holidays.

Jingle Jingle

A lovely thing about Christmas is that it's compulsory, like a thunderstorm, and we all go through it together."~ Garrison Keillor (sorry...couldn't find any corduroy quotes)

I have a couple of Calvin Klein corduroy jeans I purchased last year. I bought them at different places and different times. I always check out the rear view when I buy anything, along with the side views. I distinctly remember thinking, "These look fabulous!" However, this year when I put them on, they're baggy. I don't know if this is just in the nature of corduroy jeans or Calvin makes "Incredible Bagifying Jeans" as some kind of cruel joke. I have not lost inches. Well, maybe I've lost half an inch or something, but you can't tell when I wear regular denim jeans. I have some other corduroy jeans made by different manufacturers that have gone to Baggy Land, too. I'm not looking for tight. I'm just looking for some semblance of my real shape to show up. I know there are much more important things to think about. I just can't help it.

Becoming middle-aged has a lot of benefits. Several years ago ('cause I've been middle-aged for a while now), I decided to throw fashion caution to the winds and celebrate Christmas on my person. I have Christmas socks. I have Christmas sweaters, both cardigan and pullover. I have Christmas shirts. I have Christmas jewelry. I'm brazen.

This year, I've decided to test my co-workers' Christmas spirit by wearing jewelry that jingles. I've been wearing a jingle bracelet, necklace and, yes, jingle earrings for the past week or so. As I saunter through the office, I casually (and pretty constantly) shake my wrist ever so gently. Jingle jingle. Jingle jingle. That's bound to irritate somebody, right? No one has gone Scrooge on me yet, though.

If I don't get any response soon, I'll have to go looking for some Christmas socks with jingle bells. I know I've seen them somewhere. I have nothing better to do with my time than search for them if I can't rattle somebody's chain any other way. Maybe they're just biting their tongues and, inside, their brains are about to explode, but that's not really good enough for me. I would have no problem whatsoever surreptitiously shaking my foot periodically as I go from place to place. Don't make me go that far, people.

I'm going to have to institute "Jingle Bell Watch" to count the number of days it takes for somebody to go crazy. We're now on day 7.