The Rantings of a MadWoman

Can a person get so full of pent up annoyance that they implode? Just sort of burst inward into tiny pieces? I think it's possible so I'm going to vent a little rather than risk the implosion. Kevin has enough going on right now--he doesn't need an imploded wife to deal with too.

You are the choice recipient of my ravings tonight because a) you already know I'm not a nice person so there are no big surprises on your end and b) you're kind souls who won't beat me up with my nastiness later--at least no more than is necessary to help me recall God does love all his creations (and he didn't send cancer or idiots to test me.)

I am making a list, occasionally by name, of people likely to be smacked, verbally or physically, before Kevin's cancer treament is over. Some may get beaten before his treatment even really begins. A few may not survive this weekend.

The Dead Dog People. These people tell me they know just how I feel because they just lost their beloved dog or cat to cancer. I know people get incredibly attached to their pets and use them as subsitutes for all sorts of relationships. But, folks, it's a dog or a cat and that's not the same as a person--any person, let alone the person my husband is to me. I know you think it's the same. This worries me. To the Dead Dog People: Unless you are under 15 years of age and have not had much life experience, comparing your dog or cat relationship to my relationship with my husband is just wrong on so many levels. I want to ask "what scared you the most when Fido was diagnosed--the fear of losing him to death or the fear of losing him in a dozen other ways, emotionally, intimately...?" The only reason I don't ask is my fear of what some of you might answer. There are things I just don't want to know. If you still believe your relationship with your deceased pup is the same as my relationship with my husband, do us both a favor and don't tell me. I think whatever it is you've been doing with that dog may be illegal everywhere but down a narrow street in Amsterdam.

The It's a Death SentenceSobbers. People are afraid of cancer. I know it scares the crap out of me. There are people, though, who are way beyond rational fear. They hear medical words, it doesn't even have to be the "c" word, and they shatter into pieces--little jagged splintering edges of glass that cut. These people don't merely cry. The Sobbers heave gut wrenching eye reddening waterfalls that leave me shaken as to the depth of their pain. They cling to me and I hold them up--literally--as they gush out their misery. This usually comes with a barely coherent story of a string of pets or people who were quickly picked off by a simple illness. To be fair, it's not just cancer that sends them on emotional grave digging. Anything will do. A hang nail is probably gangrene setting in and a pimple is more than likely a tumor and global warming has made it impossible for them to breathe. To the It's a Death Sentence Sobbers: In my case, people, misery does not love company. Get a towel and a good therapist. Please, please do not invade my personal space--and if you are hanging on me, you are invading my space--because you're so afraid of death, you can't live life. I can't make me feel better right now so I'm certain you're not going to walk away from me feeling good either. And--just for the record--shutthehellupalready. Kevin is going to get through this and be well. Do not wrench that hope away from me. I'm not avoiding realities here. I am moving through them one at a time and we aren't anywhere near the reality in which YOU seem to reside. Do I wonder if he's going to die from this, sooner rather than later? Yes, it crosses my mind. F-in' constantly if you need the truth. But I acknowledge the possibility and then embrace the hope that he will be made well. For many, many years. I'm going to make you a deal--someday he is going to die. Me too. Who knows from what or when, but I guarantee you that someday he will die. When he does, you can be right. And I will acknowledge your rightness.

The "God's PLAN" people. Apparently God has a PLAN and it involves planting a nasty bleeding cancer in Kevin's ass. I'm really getting cranky about this notion that God decided this would make Kevin a better person. There's this unspoken but palpable insinuation from the God's Plan bunch that THEY are such good Christians that God didn't have to invoke THE PLAN in their backside to accomplish His will. And what's with the "convicted in the belief" phrase? As in "I am convicted in the belief that God has delivered this awful disease to Kevin to prepare him for something better..." Attention God's Plan People: If God moved this into being with a specific plan for Kevin to have cancer then I am certain a part of His Plan includes my foot planted 6 inches up the butt of the next one of you to tell me how God planned this to put Kevin to "The Test." Let's see you test your imagination on what gesture I'm making your way right now. Don't worry. It's part of God's Plan. I'm convicted in the belief. Really.

The Information Gatherers/Dispensers. The IG/Ds collect details for the purpose of disseminating them later. They don't particularly care how Kevin--or anyone else in any situation--is doing but they like to have the information handy in case they run into someone who would like to know. Our only contact is perhaps a once a year chance meeting in the produce aisle at Payless. They have "heard about Kevin" from second hand sources and drop personal questions like conversational bombs in the midst of ordinary discussions. One moment we're talking about their summer vacation fun and the next line they toss out is "Will Kevin be able to keep his job, are you closing the daycare, is Kevin scared about chemotherapy?" If you are an IG/D: Well, golly, I think he feels like crap now and he's going to feel worse before it's done. His body has suddenly become a public access area and is about to be declared a SuperFund site. Ask me an easy question like "how do you feel about my total lack of genuine concern" and I'll give you an earful. And feel free to call the ASPCA and your pastor to get the word out that I'm gunning for The Dead Doggers and The God's Planners.

The Horror Story people. These are often the same people who forward every email chain letter that comes their way. Everybody has a medical story and nothing seems to bring it out like a malignant growth in your husband's hiney. I'm a pretty good listener, I'm compassionate, empathetic. I am, however, drawing the line at listening to anymore cancer/surgery/hospital/insurance gone bad stories heard by the teller from a distance and repeated in a way guaranteed to leave Kevin in great fear. No more stories about people who lost their jobs, their spouses, their house and their dog because the boss didn't want cancer "spread" around the office. No more tales of intestines that got reconnected to the wrong thing and now someone craps out their belly button. No more forwarded emails about doctors who pretend you have a tumor when you don't just so they can bill your insurance for thousands of dollars or take out healthy organs to sell in Las Vegas to unscrupulous guys they meet in dark casinos. To The Horror Story Sharers: I don't like reading your forwarded email myths on a good day. Google "urban legends" the next time you think about sending out that crap. And what on earth compels you to tell us what you heard twenty times removed from the original source about someone who got royally f'ed over by an incompetant doctor or medical system and is now broke, lame and witless? Keep it up and you'll have a real medical horror story to share about how your doctor had to extract your arms, legs and head from your butt one piece at a time after I turned you into a ball and bounced you out of hearing range.

I could continue but you have to be tired of reading it and I'm sure as hell tired of thinking it. Thanks, dear friends, for letting me rant. Since you know me well, it probaly won't surprise you to learn you may have saved the life of a moron tomorrow by letting me release a little steam tonight.