PARTAY TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!

Let me preface this posting with an: OW OW OW, EFFING, OW!

Ok, with that out of the way, SQUUUUUUUUUUUUUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!! It is time for the PAR-TAY of the year! My cousin and dearest friend, starting from last year, has become known for having the best friggin birthday party in the whole entire world.

Last year, in remembrance of a party held when we were 9 or 10, we had the PIRATE PARTY OF EPIC-NESS. It was a night of fun, frolic, booty (treasure, not asses, though there was a lot of grabbing of those as well), mischief, mayhem and a barrage of water balloons by the so called "adults" while we were trying to drunken treasure hunt in the dark. Costumes were mandatory or there was a walk the plank (which basically meant you got smashed in the face with water balloons. The treasure hunt was for a bottle of mini rums, and the costume prize (which yours truly won with a jack sparrow-esque self braided pink wig, a kids pirate costume, ridiculous tinfoil red eyelashes, red fishnets and a crapload of make-up) was 20 gold coins.

All and all, short of a few gaps filled in by the pictures I don't remember taking, it was a FANTASTIC night, with good memories, good food and hangovers all around for the people invited.

This year....it's Halloween in July! Ghouls, vampires, goblins, ghosts, zombies, witches, whatever floats our fancy, complete with mood lighting, a smoke machine, water balloons potentially filled with red food dye!

This year, I'm a swamp princess zombie (GET IT!? BWAHAHHAHAHA)complete with awesome prom dress that was swampified by me rolling around in the mud and rubbing grass and dirt into it, which was surprisingly hard and way too much fun (which is really the whole reason for the princess part, since my school was too welfare to have a prom (plus, 6 people doesn't make for much excitement) and so I get to spend a whole night in a pretty dress), green and blue wig with twigs tied into it (cuz I crawled through a swamp, duh, new fake eyelashes of awesomeness, and generally gruesome make up to follow.

A bit more decorating, and the house will be ready for action. Once the booze starts a flowing.....who knows what horrific and gruesome things will occur!

BWAHAHAHA, PAR-TAY TIME~!!!!! YALL READY FOR THIS! *dances off stage right, music fading into the background*

Relevance

Boston Legal is one of my all time favorite shows. It's funny, brilliant, cutting edge and always pushes the bar (HA! pun only just noticed). For those of you who haven't seen it, the show has a broad focus of characters that are all developed pretty well, but there are two specific main characters: Denny Crane, head lawyer (never lost a case) suffering from the beginnings of alzheimers, though he's convinced himself it's mad cow instead, womanizer and all around buffoon with surprising insights and the ability to pull case wins out of a hat like a magician pulls rabits and played by none other than William Shatner.

Second character is Alan Shore, a bitingly sarcastic, bordering on cruel womanizer who occasionally suffers from word salad, has a sex therapist that measures him for trousers (seriously) and can kick ass in court like NOBODY's business, played by the slightly rotund but always awesome James Spader.

Anyway, in a particular episode, Denny was chasing some skirt belonging to an old friend of his. The friend threatens him with a starting pistol, things get solved, and Alan comes in to talk about the incident with Denny. He makes a comment, about "How desperate we all are to be relevant."

I find myself feeling like Denny and Alan. Not that I'm going to go steal my friends girl, but I'm caught between wanting to feel relevant and wanting to be free. And I don't just mean relevant in life, but relevant to someone in particular.

I've had nightmarish relationships since I've started recognizing that people could pair up. I used to think that the only way to BE relevant, was to be with someone. Lately, the thought of being with someone in a relationship capacity, kind of makes me want to run screaming through the hills, burning the fields behind me, hoping that the person chasing me dies of smoke inhalation (DISCLAIMER: Cee does not endorse arson and would never do such a thing because she likes life and does not want to kill anyone.)

But heartless hookups make me feel cheap and not all that special.

So my connundrum, is the desire to feel like I mean more to someone than a f%^k and chuck, but to not have to be emotionally attached in a relationship type capacity, what with the sharing of feelings and the being smooshy and talking about the future together and...and....*trails off into over dramatic gags*.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not panning relationships. Just MYSELF in one.

So I've decided to find relevance elsewhere. In myself, in the work I do, in my accomplishments. So far, I'd say I'm feeling much better in general about myself.

But someday...I hope that I can find someone who doesn't make me want to dry heave.

Narcissism

Once upon a time, eons ago, a self-indulgent peacock of a man by the name of Narcissus, who was so taken by his own reflection, he stared into the water at himself until he died and became a flower. (in a nutshell).

Whether or not Greek Mythology is ACTUALLY the reason Narcissism is actually a personality disorder has yet to be confirmed for me, but the point still stands. Narcissism is the total adoration of self, the inability to see flaws in ones actions, and the general disdain towards the common man as simple fodder for ones every wish and whim.

Sometimes, I wish I was a narcissist. Not so that I can use people, I'm sure if I tried hard enough I could probably get at least a few people I know to do my evil bidding.

No. There are days I wish I was a narcissist, so that I could look in the mirror and go: "Damn. I love me. I'm hot tamales and everyone else can just bite me and my hotness." I think it would be easier sometimes than the crippling self-consciousness I generally feel.

Though, I guess it wouldn't be all sunshine. People would probably hate me after a while. And since I would adore myself unconditionally, I wouldn't have started the workout program I have that's made huge improvements in my asthma and general health/energy levels.

It would probably also make me kind of slutty. Cuz hey, if you've got it, (and know you have it), flaunt it right?

No. Even though sometimes I wish I was a narcissist, I've begun to come to terms with the fact that I'm not. I look in the mirror, and see a million things I wish I could change. I never see results of my hardwork, no matter whether I've lost weight or not, I always seem to feel fat. Or those days, where you think you look awesome? And then someone takes a picture of you, and it's like....BURN IT!

But, you know what? This is who I am. Insecurity? I'm working on that. Bad body image? Thank god I fall asleep without adequate food, so no eating disorders in sight. Exercise? Becoming something I actually enjoy. Sexyness? I can get there :)

Narcissism be damned, I can love me without it.

The Big Event (as written after they were over)

So our big event has come and gone, and it was AWESOME. Not only did I feel quasi important in how the event ran/turned out, I had a lot of fun doing it, even though I ended up so tired I was ready to drop. Let's break it down,

Thursday was technically the first event, but I had the day off and spent most of it, sleeping, swimming and running 5 miles.

Friday:

I got into work about noon, only to realize that no one I needed to talk to was anywhere in the vicinity and I had no idea what had happened on said wonderful lazy Thursday, so I stood around aimlessly for a good 20 minutes before I could find purpose again. The afternoon disappeared on me, and before I knew it, my volunteers were showing up at 4:30, with me having planned nothing for them to do yet.

So I dazzled them with my witty banter, ran away to have 5 minutes to myself, and immediately set all the men to lifting heavy things. Cuz why not. It didn't take too long to get everything set up, and despite being harassed by a guy who wanted to dance on the stage and was getting a little too close for comfort, the event was on its way.

We had three groups that night, the first being a set of Celtic Dancers, who were adorable (some were really young) and actually really good. The second was a duo called Beckon. There were AMAZING. And finally, a celtic music group called Scatter the Cats that had me toe-tapping and dork-dancing everytime I had to walk somewhere, which was frequently and more often than not, required me running around.

I was here until 9:15 when we finally finished slugging huge coolers still full of pop and the music finally came to a halt. It was a long day, but worth it.

Saturday:

The day started at 8am (which meant leaving my house at 7am, which meant being up at 5:30am). I had it all planned out what I had to accomplish, but of course, best laid plans and all that. I ended up slugging coolers again, though not quite the same distance. When my volunteers started arriving at 8:30am, it took a while to get them all congregated in the same spot, and even longer to convince them that "Yes, we wanted them at their stations at 9am, and NO they couldn't leave since we'd be leaving them with a loaner cell phone and a cash box".

With enough persistence, a couple bottles of water and the promise of muffins though (food bribes always work early in the morning), my volunteers were settled, people were wandering in and the day was underway despite it being muggy, damp with a whole heap of threatening clouds.

I didn't hear much of the music, I spent 90% of the day on my feet walking back and forth from the museum to all of the different areas, or walking the perimeter to check on my gates. My volunteers were fantastic, no one passed out from heat stroke or dehydration, nobody whined or complained, everyone got fed and nobody stole money either!

The weather held out mostly for us too. It started to rain at 2, and the boss lady pulled the gates around 2:30, nearly 3pm, then more slugging of stuff began.

But all in all, it was a great day. My parents slept from 7pm on last night, but I got the best kind of pizza out of the deal, along with a strong sense of accomplishment and sore feet.

I'm kind of sad it's over actually. Now it's back to cataloging. But at least I did it, and everyone had a blast.

Now if I can just catch up on the sleep, everything should be peaches.

A little bit of reality

So about a month or so ago, I was at the doctors office for my annual, totally routine physical which (while more intrusive now than it once was) is barely considered a blip on my radar of things to be overly concerned about.

Three weeks go by, no phone calls, I figure all is well and promptly forget I even went. Then last week, I see her number pop up on a missed call, but there's no voicemail and no attempt to call back. Knowing from previous experience, that if the situation called for urgency, she would have called back from her home number I was hardly concerned and figured her evil psycho-wench of an assistant just dialed the wrong number or something.

Then I see a missed call Monday afternoon (she has the most uncanny knack for calling when I'm away from my phone) and this time there's a voicemail attached. So now I'm a bit concerned, but I pick up the message and she says there's no urgency but she has some results so just give her a shout.

Ok, sounds good. I figure she's going to yell at me for not taking the 2000mg of vitamin D a day like I'm supposed to, but usually forget during the summer. I call and leave her a message to let her know I've gotten her messages (redundant since she asked me to call her, but she's a doctor, I can't ignore her)and if she beats me to it, she can call in the morning.

And she does. 8:38 am, while in the car, my phone goes off. Pulling over in what I'm sure was the most badly executed pulling over a person could do, I fumble the phone open. My doctor is fairly militant, and usually just gets straight to the point. So I knew the news had a freakout factor when she started it off with, "There's nothing to be concerned about, and this isn't an emergency." OOOOOOOkkkkay, way to boost the confidence.

Apparently, my pap came back and things have "changed a little", whatever the hell that's supposed to mean to me. Did my cervix invert itself? Are there palm trees growing in there? Inclement weather differences?

Kidding aside, I've been assured it's "NOWHERE near cancer" and there's a 95% chance this will turn out to be nothing, but should the 5% occur, she's got a specialist in mind. After the initial brain reboot, my first thought was that I'm glad she's watching out for me. The second thought was, Goddammit I have to go back in November to go through another exam. Third though was, I really wish she had been calling to yell at me.

Though I'd hardly say I'm writing up my will, I'm understandably a smidge concerned and have been told to call in with anything that may worry me, like stabbing pain that isn't cramp related or if the palm trees suddenly turn into pumpkins (which I can imagine would contribute greatly to the above formentioned warning about stabbing pains).

Until November, I've been told there's no point in worrying. But I can't help but feel the reality check.

Bugs Bugs Bugs

Little while ago, I posted about how much I like butterflies. Alas, I'm not ashamed to say, that I'm totally speciest when it comes to our insect friends. I like butterflies, but certain kinds of caterpillars freak me out to no end.

Silverfish? Like the one I just found in my museum? *GAG* Are hideous, skittery things that should be disposed of as quickly as possible.

Earwigs? *ALSO GAG* Found one in a pot of my conditioner. I must have left the lid slightly askew. $5 isn't worth picking out a dead earwig. Luckily the pot was almost empty. I don't think I even picked it up, I just swatted it straight into the garbage can.

Hornets and Wasps? I'm not afraid of, but they are evil. Pure evil. I bet if you magnified them, they've got little 666 tattoos, or upside down pentacles on them or something. Maybe the satanic goat.

Bees and I are pretty chill. I leave them alone, they leave me alone. Except the little ground nesting bees. They are also evil, though on a smaller scale. Like pre-natal Damien.

Ants are irritating, they occasionally bite/sting and if I had to contend with some of the types of ants that live in various parts of brazil and other rainforesty places (ants with names like the Bullet Ant, or an ant that grows up to an inch long, jumps out of the trees to land on you if you get too close and shrieks at you).

But my all time most terrifying insect is The Centipede. (Dunh Dunh DUHHHHHHH)
When I was 6, vacuuming the living room (still at the age where washing or vacuuming the floor made me feel like Cinderella and it was considered a fun thing), I peeked into this giant urn thing my mom used for large house plants, and there was this HUMONGOUS centipede crawling around in it. Naturally, I was slightly wary, it's the first recollection I have of seeing a bug like that.

So my dad says, "Well, don't worry, just suck it up in the vacuum." And like the trusting little girl I was, "Ok Daddy."

So I'm coming at this thing, with a giant vaccum in my hand, and it's skittering around being gross and creepy, and JUST as I manage to suck it up with the vacuum, my dad comes up from behind (with actually admirable timing looking back), grabs me around the sides and screams, "WATCH OUT FOR HIS TEETH!!!!!"

I dropped the vacuum, shrieking like a banshee, tore up to my room and wouldn't set foot on the floor for the rest of the day.

I laugh about that story ALL the time when people ask my why I'm such a baby when it comes to centipedes. But honestly, when I see one, or even glimpse one out of the corner of my eye streaking across the floor, I turn into the stereotypical 50's housewife in cartoons who jumps up on a chair screaming and tipy-toe dancing in hysterics.

I'll be such a bad example for my own kids some day. "Umm...Daddy? Why is Mommy screaming on top of the table?" "Well kids, Mommy has issues. Lets go get some ice cream."

Actually, hopefully my significant other will be nice enough to come save me by squishing said bug. Cuz seriously, I won't get off the table. It's a totally subconscious reaction.

And of course, I live in the country right now. VIVA LES INSECTES!

A Prayer to the Forest Gods

This event is NUTS. The amount of paper being used for all of the various components, is probably enough to have deforested an entire SNORKEL of trees. Since I'm a semi believer in karma/paganism and wiccan, I feel that I must offer something to the forest gods (one of which is apparently a friend of mine. I must have missed her promotion to divinity in my wreckless paper using abandon).

Here goes:

Oh forest gods of there and here,
Great keepers of the dainty deer
Guardians 'oer the hare and snake
'Oer bear and fish and placid lake.
'Oer birds and beasts with teeth most gnashing
'Oer mighty stags with antlers clashing.
'Oer bugs and slugs and crawly things
'Oer butterflies with painted wings.
From tiny flower to mighty oak
To moss and grass and faerie folk.
Peace be to thee with all your might
And forgive me for your wretched plight.
No malice lies within my head,
So please go smite my Boss instead!

Bwahahaha.

Seriously karma. Please don't hurt me!

<3 Cee.

Simple Things

I forgot how much I enjoy simple things.

Like butterflies.

I love butterflies. To be fair, I love anything with fantasy-esque wings, so the attraction includes angels and fairies as well, but I really really love butterflies.

It just so happened, so does my friend. So, this past hung-over Saturday, with both of us feeling the effects of a few Tom Collins's the night before, we decided to head on over to the local Butterfly Conservatory.

Lame? Maybe. But we had an awesome time.

The conservatory itself is comprised of a museum aspect, where bugs are pinned with descriptors beside them, along with this strange exhibit about seeds that I never really understood and didn't much bother to read. And also, a live butterfly sanctuary type place, which is amazing. Of course, since butterflies are delicate, it's heated to about the temperature and relative humidity of a tropical sauna, but it's still awesome.

There are butterflies of dozens of types/shapes/colours and sizes. Finches that were just way too cute for words, turtles, koi fish, a waterfall, mist, sun, beautiful plants. We got to watch butterflies that had just pulled themselves out of their chrysalids drying out in the sun. A butterfly landed on my foot and tried to eat my toe-nail polish!

They flutter around, eat their fruit, try and scare you with their owl-eye spots, generally being beautiful and ephemeral and not caring about all of the people wandering around taking pictures. They're world is misty and bright and fractured in a way that makes me dizzy just seeing a picture of how a butterfly sees.

We walked through the conservatory twice, breaking out in the airconditining only long enough to mop up the sweat and breathe without the desire for a snorkel mask.

It was a devastatingly simple experience. But it was FABULOUS.

Finding joy in simple things? I declare you rediscovered.

Cee 1, Art Project 0

KICKED, IT'S, BUTT!

Despite all my whining and complaining, I not only finished the two art banners in time, but did a not too shabby job (of which I only comment on since I spent over a week staying up til 1am perfecting them). Of course, the woman whos store we hung them in managed to rip one, which caused me to suffer a minor stroke brought on by blinding rage, but all in all, I'm happy with the final results.

I still wouldn't consider myself any form of artist. A wanna-be or poser artist I can deal with. But to me, an artist is someone who can see something in their head, and put it on paper/canvas/whatever. I can somewhat duplicate what I see, but what's up in my head, is trapped there for eternity.

Anyways, I kicked ass and took names, so yay me!


The first whole banner


And the interesting portion of the second banner.

5 Ways Humanity is Doomed

So there's all kinds of conspiracy theorists, and humour websites that agree: Humans, are likely going to be the cause of our own demise. Short of course, of an asteroid the size of the sun smashing into us and either a) knocking us off of our orbit, sending us all hurtling off of the earths surface and somewhere into space b) knocking us off of our orbit, and directly into the sun or c) creating an ice age that kills every living thing on the planet, probably sooner than us so we can walk the barren wastelands of our empty planet before dying ourselves.

At least asteroids seem to be the next popular theory.
But I think we're dooming ourselves a lot faster than that. And not even in large, cataclysmic type ways. I'm talking about itty bitty little things that illustrate what lack of care humans have for each other, and therefore our own survival.


1. People will ram into other people in car accidents because they insist on driving drunk, or running red lights, or stop signs, but stop in the middle of a busy road to allow a duck to cross the street. (We're talking the city here, not the country, where road kill is considered a fast-food group for the ecosystem)

I was out waiting for a bus last summer one day, and there's a big park near the university I go too, so there's a lot of ducks wandering around. So I spot this one who had quacked rather rudely at me the day before, and he's heading for the curb. I'm thinking "Oh great, I get to see duck pate made at 60km an hour" but....I was wrong. 12 cars, 5 on one side, 7 on the other, all stopped behind each other (with no horn honking, yelling or homicidal attempts to pass the stopped cars in front of them) and waited nearly 7 minutes for the duck to slowly amble his way across the road. Score one for animal activists. Nil for humans saving humans though. Just down the street I saw the cops investigating a man who ran through a red light and managed to crumple his car against the semi-truck he tried to take on.

2. Conversation...is dead.

Have you seen that commercial with the girl walking along saying how she's ALWAYS facebooking, and twittering, and she just can't LIVE without msn, and she wants to be able to surf parked in a parking lot sitting on the hood of her car, and waiting for a bus, and ON said bus and never have to go more than the time she has to spend behind the wheel of her car (so...why was she taking a bus?) without internet.

I'm not even going to get into the "text speak" or "L33t" speak, because it's too painful. But seriously people. Ok, when I'm up in the country? Talking to people down in the city? Sure, I'm on msn. And it IS convenient to talk to people when you want company but have other things to do at the same time. But so called "conversations" with most people, now turn into either a 10 minute long rant about themselves, or a "Hey" "Hey." "How goes?" "Not bad." "Cool."

Why is this such an issue? Think of some of these kinds of people you might know. Now imagine having a heart attack, or falling down a flight of stairs in their presence, and they're the only ones to call 9-1-1. How comfortable do you feel?
Now you see my point.

3. Low Birth rate/Pregnancy

There are some legitimate reasons for this issue. 1) Birth control and the actual USE of said birth control (by some) 2) Female independence (no longer must we be housewives chained to the kitchen unless we want to be.) 3) The ongoing trend of adoption 4) The fact that immigration is making up our country's current population growth, so people haven't noticed an immediate problem yet.

So what instance am I referring to then? How about someone I know being given a diamond necklace for pushing out her second child? Only to thrust them into the arms of a full time, live in nanny (did I mention she's a stay-at-home mom? Oh sorry, that's incorrect, she's a Go-out-and-drink-and-party-then-come-home-only-long-enough-to-sleep-and-start-over-again-so-often-that-her-kids-don't-care-even-when-she-comes-back-after-a-week-away mom). This? Just depresses me. Though it may solve the low birth-rate problem, a generation of kids growing up thinking: "Dear god, my parents were assholes, there's no way I'm having kids of my own" could lead to some issues.

4. Media Panic

Who remembers swine flu? Oh, sorry, H1N1 to be P.C. Anyone? Yeah, it was a flu, that created MASS panic throughout the media, basically stating that we are all going to die, and partially blaming hospitals for not having enough ventilators to keep all of our flu filled lungs working when we're stupid enough to lick the pole on the subway and manage to get ourselves sick. QUICK, mass vaccination production! DON'T LET YOUR CHILDREN HUG EACH OTHER! ISOLATION, ISOLATION, ISOLATION! Soooo....what happened with it?

SOME people got sick. SOME people died. But, less people died, than the normal seasonal flu takes out EVERY winter. Why all the panic? First, the WHO, primed and ready for another disaster since SARS didn't turn out to be the pandemic they were hoping for, issued a pandemic alert, apparently without stressing to the media the necessity of explaining what the alert actually MEANT. A pandemic alert of 6, does not mean "batten down the hatches and kiss your loved ones goodbye, people are dropping like flies". What it meant, was that "this disease spreads rapidly (well...yeah, it's a flu, an 8-year old could tell you that) and is in many different countries (because we don't flu shot people in airports). That's all folks.

There are three outcomes of these false alarm panics (remember Y2K?) People are cautious and alert to potential negative health events in the future, and take measures to educate themselves and their loved ones on how to be safe and prevent infection or spread of said as of yet unknown ailment, in a calm and reasonable matter. 2) Boy who cried wolf. He got eaten when the people stopped listening cuz he screwed around with them too much. 3) Mass panic will consume the globe, until the government decides to pull an Outbreak, and nuke whatever city causes the biggest problem, then escape to Fiji to lounge around on the beach.

5. Reality TV.

I apologize to those who like it, and even I too have occasionally found the need for mind-numbing, quasi-entertainment. But when a show makes you feel like you're dropping IQ points...I can't even think of the implications of it all.

Imagine your doctor/health care professional/stock broker/childs kindergarten teacher watches The Hills, or Jersey Shore or Pimp my Ride or Cribs or Sweet 16.

I know. It's terrifying eh?

Ohhhh yeah.

Canada day was yesterday. Ooops.

I obviously KNEW it was yesterday. I had a short day at work, everyone's Facebook status' had something about "Yay Canada, You rule Canada, Let me have your babies Canada" but....it was kind of....blah?

I think the first main problem, is the fact that for the past, oh I dunno, 3 or so years, it's fallen on very inopportune weekdays. Like last year was a Wednesday. Joyous? This year, Thursday. Whoopie? Even if drinking oneself stupid WAS a good way to celebrate our nation, it's hard to cut loose and enjoy when you know that calling in with the excuse of "Uhhhh, I'm.....sick. (Aka, still drunk.)" is probably not going to go over well, and every boss around knows exactly WHY you're sick, and trust me, isn't buying it.

Second, on a more personal note, I love Canada. Seems like a weird start to this sentence, but hold on, I'm getting to it. I love Canada. I really don't think there's many other places I would want to live, except maybe somewhere in Europe. BUT (here it is) I don't actually ASSOCIATE with being Canadian.

It's not that I have anything against being Canadian, it's just not what comes to mind when someone asks me what I am (though of course, I usually respond first off with something stupid like "A pigeon, can't you tell?). I was raised in an extremely European valued household, with both of my parents only the first generation of my family to be born here in Canada. Most people would say, "Well then you're Canadian, so shut up."

But when I see some of my friends who ARE Canadian, like who have been here for years and years and years and years, all the way back to the first cavemen who had brains large enough to adapt to the cold weather and the bears over here...I do see a difference. In values, in actions, and especially in hugs.

For example: My European relatives? Even the 98 year olds, hug you kind of like you're in a wrestling match and the prize is something they want really really badly and they plan on winning by squeezing you so hard, your head pops off like a dandelion when you jump them at people. Hugging is like a full contact sport, and you better be steady on your feet, because if they take you down? They're probably getting up faster than you do. My Canadian-since-the-beginning-of-time older people I know? Do the touch-shoulders-ass-stuck-out-way-away-to-avoid-body-contact-three-awkward-back-pats-then-flee-to-the-farthest-corner-of-the-room.

I know I'm over generalizing a bit, my family is loud and pushy anyway and some people just think others are germ-infested mungus-monsters who don't deserve being poked with a broom let alone hugged. But it's just my own experience. And, I still root for Canada. I still love Canada and it's freedoms, and it's geography and abundance of fresh water. I'm just more inclined to tell people I'm European first. That's all.

So happy one day belated birthday Canada. Me and my German/Polish heritage love you.

Cancer.

I don't think there's a single word more devastating in the english language. Of course there are words that rock our moral fibres, that shock us, that instill hatred or disbelief or disappointment. But no other word, can instill the impending sense of doom (except maybe apocalypse) than Cancer, and I'm not talking about the crab.

I don't know anyone my own age with cancer, though up here, it seems a popular young persons death. I've known adults with it. They've all died. And my uncle has cancer. It's been 5 years, two surgeries that removed part of his colon and lung, 4 rounds of chemo, and some intense radiation. Now, he's scheduled for a third surgery that's basic intent, is to hollow him out like a jack-o-lantern, minus the ability to insert a candle to observe the pretty designs.

This is an aunt, whose first husband died of leukemia, no better than a vegetable, his eyes, brain, muscles, everything, totally liquified by scads of radiation that did nothing more than mow down a few cancer cells while the rest of them just pointed, laughed, and destroyed her husband and her daughters father.

Now, 20 years later with my new uncle, there was a toss up for a while as to whether or not he'd accept the surgery that we were all hoping would end the cancer, maybe for good. He blames my aunt for the illness, and generally hates the world. I had hoped he would decide to try to live.

But I didn't know his odds.

Even with said hollowing surgery, the doctors have given him a 20% chance of surviving past two years. And since the tumor is wrapped around part of the vagus nerve (one of the longest in the body that runs down into the legs), if the surgery doesn't go PERFECTLY, he could end up partially paralyzed.

Now, I'm definately not the person to go to for a silver lining view on cancer and survival. I'm a realist. So I always knew he was going to die. In my mind, I think I've already accepted his death. The biggest problem for me, is that when I see him? He doesn't look like a man dying of cancer. He doesn't look like a man with a simple, cellular anomaly that inhibits cellular apoptosis, allowing cells with mutated dna to replicate fast and out of control instead of dying the way they're supposed to.

He looks like my uncle. But my aunt's hair is falling out with stress. He's secluding himself away. He's selling his cars, the things he loves. He hasn't even had the surgery yet, he's scheduled for August, but he's preparing to die.

My dad keeps saying that 20% chance of life is better than 0.

I know he's going to die. I just wish he would LIVE with the time he has, with the chance he's given.

But cancer doesn't just destroy bodies. It destroys the lives, of everyone living around it.

It's by far the most devastating word in my world right now.