My Soapbox

I don't often get serious here, but I have something to say. Since a lot of you that regularly read me are actual friends of mine, let me apologize if I am telling you stuff that you a, already knew, or b, didn't know until now. And, please don't be offended if what you read here is news to you as I am really not very good at sharing stuff like this. Even with y'all.

OK, so way back when I was in my very early 30's, I was diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma, a type of cancer that affects my immune system. Because it is a blood related cancer, it is very difficult to treat and impossible to cure. When I was first diagnosed, I elected to try an experimental treatment regime which, while it did nothing to stop the progression of my disease, acted as a fertility drug and I wound up preggers after trying to NOT have a baby for the nine or ten years I had been married. We all know how that turned out...I always say that while I may have gotten an incurable fatal disease, I got Boy out of the deal, and that's a fair trade. So, after many years of general medical related suckiness here I am, still beating the odds. Just an aside: survival statistics are very depressing things, but if you are interested, visit http://www.cancer.gov/cancertopics/types/non-hodgkin. That I even got this disease was kind of a kicker, because about 70% of all diagnosed cases are in MEN OVER THE AGE OF 67!!!! (see, I've always been special!) Anyway, after many rounds of radiation therapy and chemotherapy and all manner of "shitotherapy", there was a drug that was released which acts like a "smart bomb" towards lymphoma cells in that it only kills off the cancer cells, not my healthy cells. This drug, Rituxan, is intravenously injected once a week over the span of four weeks. So every six months since around 2001 or so, once a week I would go get hooked up to a pump for about 8 hours and get this stuff injected. Which was great, because it actually worked and killed off any lymphoma cells, even those which were hiding in bone marrow, etc. Great stuff, huh? But, about four years ago, the treatment available to me for years became UNAVAILABLE to me because my insurance company decided to refuse to insure me anymore. Every time I got an injection of this drug, it was very expensive, adding up to the tune of about $65,000.00 a year expensive. So, after I had no insurance, I realized I am lucky enough to live in a state that can actually force an insurance company to provide me with coverage. A good thing, right? Except that the insurance company could (and did, in my case) exclude treatment for an existing condition for 18 months, and the monthly premium was MORE THAN MY MONTHLY MORTGAGE PAYMENT. I am not kidding. So, after paying insanely high premiums for 18 months, I was able to get treatment again. After getting my first Rituxan in almost two years though, I had to cancel that insurance coverage because I simply could not afford it anymore (don't worry, I'm not hitting you up for a loan or anything, I promise). Today, I finally have health insurance again that does cover the expensive treatment I need without a waiting period, thanks to the Affordable Health Care Act enacted by the Obama administration. And now here I come with my soapbox: I have to ask you that no matter what you believe or think about our current administration, that you do NOT support the efforts to repeal the Affordable Health Care Act, because quite simply put, me and many others will probably die way sooner than we should without the health insurance we so desperately need. And, I don't want to die because you know I still have A LOT to say! Thanks for reading.

My Life in Home Improvement

So, I recently started a part time job at one of the big national chains of home improvement stores.  I am not really terribly excited by this, but I have gotten even more antsy and bored while looking for work in my field.  I figured I have some skills that I might be able to share with some other hapless homeowner who, due to tough economic times must launch themselves into the land of "D-I-Yville".  On the first day at my new job, I learned how NOT to cut vinyl flooring.  Evidently, that long red string that runs under the flooring roller is the accelerator for the roller...not a stray piece of carpet fiber to be yanked and pulled, as I thought.  The roller/cutter machine does not have an emergency braking system, either.   And, I also learned that a new full roll of vinyl flooring can be as much as 168 linear feet, which is an awful lot of very heavy material to wind up by hand, back onto its spool, after one causes the rolling machine to go nuts and spew yard after yard onto the floor...

Tiny Rat Vests

Stuff people are doing...

Capitalizing on people's love of fried foods, a local restaurateur has now added to her menu... Fried Beer. A beer-filled pretzel pocket is deep-fried to a golden brown. One bite and the escaping beer serves as a dipping sauce.

Authorities in California's Riverside County say that a woman with a gun robbed 11 customers at a farmer's market - but only got away with $6, for a total take of just under 55 cents per person threatened. Just 166,667 more crimes like that and she'll be a millionaire.

A prospective employee at Man's company listed her current job as an "administrative ass."

Scientists at Penn State University are sewing tiny weighted vests to put on healthy laboratory rats. The scientists are hoping to discover how animals’ muscles respond to changes in body weight.

A British researcher from Cardiff University has determined that February 17 was 2012's most depressing day. His formula for this bleak prediction took into account factors like post-holiday blahs and debt and failed New Year’s resolutions, and...clothing size? Go figure.

Yup, that's kinda how I felt about this stuff, too...

One more thought about Boy...

Until Boy becomes not a teenager, I will have to try and be smart enough to understand him.  I will root around and soul search for enough compassion to forgive him his rude ways and work at being patient enough to deal with his moodiness.  I will truly work at allowing him to make all the mistakes he needs to in order to learn and grow.  I will NOT, however, pray for strength because I do not want to beat him to death.  

Teenage Boy

Note:  I may diminish my credibility as a loving and caring parent because of this post.  But I need to vent, so please don't be too harsh.
Everyone makes jokes about their teenagers, but no one does anything about them...
Seriously, I was warned by parents way more experienced than I about the plethora of insane behaviors I could expect from my child when he got to be 14 or 15.  Despite the many ways I have tried to forget the follies of my own youth, I still remember how difficult it was to be a teenager and how silly and irrelevant my parents were and how just about EVERYONE over the age of ME was really annoying and basically a big pain.  So I sort of get Boy's erratic behavior, but only to a point.  

A few things I don't understand:

• Why does he dig through the dirty clothes hamper to find a shirt to wear rather than wear one of the clean ones hanging in his closet?
• Why, if he is "not hungry", does he eat an entire bag of potato chips, 2 quarts of orange juice, three peaches and my secret stash of KitKat bars in one sitting?
• Why are pork chops and broccoli "disgusting" and sour Gummy Worms "really legit"?
• How can this brilliant and gifted sprout fail a biology test because he neglected to answer the questions on the back of the test paper?  (The question which ended mid-sentence on the FRONT of the test paper was apparently not enough to clue him in that there were some additional questions on the reverse of the page.)
• Why can he get completely showered and dressed and out the door on a weekend morning in approximately 6 minutes but must take a 40 minute shower on a school morning thereby requiring he eat his breakfast either in the car or running through the halls of the school while he desperately tries to beat the bell?

I know this is so cliched, but I just don't get it.  I mean, I really really try but I still find myself, huddled in my bathroom, silently screaming "WHY?"  So many people I know are just rolling through their kids' teenage years with way less stress than me.  When I question them about how they manage and cope, they say things like "Oh, just choose your battles" and "It could be even worse" and basically act like it is no big deal that their once lovable and sweet and funny and interesting kid is now essentially a tsucheppenish*.  I think that they are probably not being straight with me...I bet they silently scream in their bathrooms, too.  And I wouldn't be surprised to learn that they probably drink way more than I do or that prescription sedatives play a major role in maintaining their calm and cool demeanor.  Whatever their secrets, my manner of coping will continue to require that I spend way more time in my bathroom...
* Huge pain in the ass