Cranky, irritable, and just plain bitchyPosted: March 13, 2011 Filed under: breast cancer, cancer fatigue | Tags: bad day, bitchy, blog, bloody mary, breast cancer, cancer battle, cancer diagnosis, champagne, crazy, hospital, infection, intense emotions, invitation-only blog, mastectomy, microsurgery, mood swings, plastic surgery, post-mastectomy, post-op, privacy, reconstruction, recovery, Shock Top, stress, vodka tonic 13 Comments
That’s how I feel today. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
If you’re not in the mood to read something scathing, if you’re feeling a little frail today, or simply don’t like bitchin’ & moanin’ then I suggest you move on, because I have a powerful need to get it out. Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeh.
Don’t know what set this off, and in my current state of utter bitchiness, I don’t really care. I’m just feeling pissy. Been fighting it since I woke up this morning, and am only 4 hours into it, so it’s gonna be a long day. I’m not too proud to call for help in the way of a bloody mary followed by a bottle of champagne followed by a Shock Top or two followed by an extra-tall vodka tonic with extra lime. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know that alcohol isn’t the answer, and in many cases actually makes the problem worse, but today I don’t really care, and if you want to lecture me about the dangers of overindulging or how alcohol consumption is tied to increased rates of cancer recurrence, don’t bother. I already know that. But some days it just doesn’t matter.
Today is definitely one of those days.
The straw involved in this particular breaking of camels’ backs came when I decided to spend a little time mindlessly surfing the blog-o-sphere this a.m. in search of humor, inspiration, and distraction from my wickedly bad mood. There are a lot of good blogs out there, and if I ever get out of this funk, I plan to create a blogroll on my blog’s homepage, to share some of the greatness I’ve found. And I will do that. Y’all know me, once I set my mind to something, I do it. ‘Nuff said. But for now, I am waylayed, stymied, stopped in my tracks in my pursuit of a mood-elevating stint on the ‘Net.
Why? Because in the span of 10 minutes I came across 2 blogs that tell me I have to be invited to read before I can even click one single time to see if it’s a blog that appeals to me. WTH??? I have to be invited to access a blog I don’t even know if I’m going to like, much less return to or perhaps follow regularly? WTH???
Ok, on a normal day (whatever the hell that is), I might come across an “invitation only” blog and think, hmmm, that’s interesting, I wonder why it’s configured that way? I’m pretty new to the blogging world, and there’s a lot I don’t know about the wide and wonderful world of blogs. On a normal day, I might wonder: Is this invitation-only blog’s readership so huge that they have to separate the wheat from the chaff? Does the blog’s author feel particularly strong about privacy, as opposed to airing her dirty laundry, the way I do in my little blog? Is she just snotty and isolating in general but in particular toward other BC survivors who are trying to muddle along in this wretched “cancer journey” and seeking solace or answers from those sister souls who’ve been there before?
Maybe that blog author is just a bitch.
This blog author certainly is bitch-y. But I don’t think I’m a bitch. Maybe I am, but today, who cares? I don’t really think that other blog author is, either, although I can’t say for sure since her stupid blog is by invitation only. Screw her, I don’t want to read her stupid blog anyway. I’m gonna pack up my flaming bad mood and leave her holier-than-thou protected blogsite. Bitch.
The post-op instructions that I brought home from the hospital mention something about mood swings and periods of intense emotions. Apparently it’s all part of the “cancer journey” and in particular, the recovery from the major surgery required to try and put the pieces back together after a firestorm of mutated cells banded together to create some bastard tumors that burst through my milk ducts and invaded my system. Rude.
Maybe this is the mood-swing-and-intense-emotion portion of my recovery. Maybe this is the culmination of the hormone frenzy that goes on in my tired, taxed, put-upon body every single day, and today the frenzy got the best of me. Maybe this is totally normal for those of us in the midst of a “cancer journey.” Maybe this is just an ordinary, run-of-the-mill bad day.
Maybe it’s all of the above. One thing I do know for sure is that I am sick, really sick, supremely sick of all of this. I’m not a good patient on a good day, and I’m a hellabad patient on a bad day. Oh how I am sick of all this. Sick of the pain, yet leery of the pain meds. Sick of the drains yet aware of their necessity. Sick of the right drain leaking yet too pissed off to attend to it. Sick of the pile of dirty clothes with patches of bloody spots from the damn drain leaking, yet not at all motivated to start the laundry. Sick of the fact that I need to start the laundry, yet still haven’t been cleared to do any chores. Sick of chores needing to be done while I’m not cleared to do them, yet unwilling to seek help. Sick of having to think so hard about what to wear because of incisions and drains, yet unwilling to stay in my jammies another day. Sick of how hard it currently is to do the basic everyday things (like washing my face), yet not satisfied with the “it’s temporary” mantra that usually calms me. Sick of wondering if raising my arm high enough to reach a glass is the motion that will tear the micro-stitches and disrupt the healing of the micro-surgery, yet thirsty enough to reach anyway. Sick of worrying if I’m doing too much or being too still, yet too lazy to find the answer. And I’m sick–really sick–of sleeping on my back. I’m a side-sleeper but I have to sleep on my back, yet again, because I can’t lay on my incisions. Dammit to hell, I can’t even get comfortable at bedtime.
I’m 11 days into this recovery, and while my rational self knows that 11 days isn’t long enough to heal, I’m impatient and fidgety and ready to move on. But then I realize that when it comes to moving on, I don’t really know what that means. Baby steps aren’t my style. I’m more apt to pitch headlong and headstrong into something and just get ‘er done. Only, in this case, I don’t know how to get ‘er done. Have no clue. I’ve been on this “cancer journey” so long that I don’t exactly remember how to get ‘er done. Don’t even know what it is I’m supposed to be getting done.
All I know is that I’m cranky, irritable, and just plain bitchy today.
Okay you warned me, way back in the first paragraph … got it. Nothing exceeds excess like excess itself … and that includes being a bitch. Hopefully writing this morning helped because reading clearly did not and you’re not strong enough to throw anything across the room just yet, so here’s my suggestion to the bitch in Texas: Call a friend … long distance … COLLECT … that should do the trick.
Gentle … go gentle.
Bitch away! Your mixologist/maid is on the way.
stewing is usually a good tenderizer but I find with people it tends to make them bitter. I hope being able to blog about it was good elixir, plus the vodka tonic. We can’t ALWAYS be in a good mood! I love it that you are so real. I bet you’ll have a bluebird on your shoulder soon, if I know anything about you!
All I want to know is……exactly many seconds did it take after this post for someone to show up with a drink and some Gain (wearing body armor and thick skin)???? Sounds like today would be a good day for a friend to lend you a hand as long they remained silent other than the sound of the drink being poured and the washer/dryer running!
Girl, do you know your sister, or what?? You are right on the money! She texted me after she read it to check on me, and even though I assured her I was over it, she appeared on my doorstep w her own tonic & lime. She did indeed start my laundry, kept me company, and make me smile. She’s better than Nanny McPhee!
She’s good people, no doubt!
Wendy, she’s so good she showed up again last night, to see if the laundry needed to be folded, and she ran to the grocery store for milk. I don’t know where she hides her wings. Maybe under her “superwoman” cape.
Oh girl!! I feel your pain… I hate this whole thing too 😦
btw – I feel the need to comment on the ‘private blog’ issue that pissed you off today … I actually had a blog about 3 years ago and one day an ex of mine discovered it and started making my life difficult because of it … So I went private on the blog, which meant only if you were ‘invited’ could you read it… I remember thinking it was my only choice back then. 😉
That’s one possibility I hadn’t considered. Thanks for educating me. I’m over it now, but am still sick of all the post-surgery stuff. Hope you’re recovering, too.
If I had a sign, it would say “Bitches Welcome.”
I may need to get a sign like that, too, Kayte! hee hee
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Mood swings from hormones, clothes that don’t fit around your drains, sleeping on your back, mood swings from all the anesthesia that is still working its way out of your body, micro stitches, cancer… BITCH ON!! Every day can’t be a hippy happy gee I’m so lucky to be alive day. From what I can see, you are not a wallower. I hope you feel more like yourself soon.