I've neglected posting for a while. I have a good excuse, but I am a little over talking about it. I'm pretty sure this is the only time I'll ever post about it. So savor it.
I swear my cancer is a girl and she's a mean one. The kind that talks about you behind your back and then is sticky sweet to your face. The kind that hurts you simply because she can. She takes pleasure in all of these things. She's a bully. I hate her. We're not friends. (Plus she wears skanky clothes and her hair is super greasy.)
What is so frustrating about being sick is all the people that come out of the woodwork feeling sorry for you or feeling bad that they were a shitty friend and then trying to overcompensate for that by trying to be your best friend. Instead of being what you need, they end up working very hard at trying to be the kind of person they want you, and everyone else, to think they are when really they're just being posers for a moment while they try to gain a little favor from your misfortune.
You know what is so messed up about most of these "old" friends. They get upset if I don't acknowledge their cards or phone calls or whatever it is that they try to do. And, all I can say to them is that IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM. Half the time I don't even think it's about me. What I don't get is why they need validation for trying to be the friend they should have been all along. The friends I keep closest to me are the ones who do things for no reason and never out of a feeling of pity or obligation. My closest friends also know that I don't really let anyone do anything for me. They know that the way they show up for me is through a simple text or a call or a fun hour at lunch every week.
Tay, my bff (yes I'm 35 and I totally have a bff), knows all of this quite well. I don't let her do anything. But, I think she knows that I love her more for letting me just get through this and for not trying to do the things that make me crazy. Like bring me dinner. People who bring dinner to my house drive me nuts. Unless it's my mother or my sister, or that one neighbor who makes the best penne vodka ever. They get a pass. Everyone else has to keep their meals to themselves.
This one time (I love saying that) a girl from our neighborhood brought dinner over after I'd had Sam. And, it became the biggest joke in our house. She brought canned peas. I know, gasp! The gagging and dry heaving that came from my girls was funny enough to capture on video. It looked like Sam's diaper. It smelled worse. And, since then my girls have always giggled when they see this poor girl.
I'm grateful for the kindness of neighbors and strangers. I don't want to sound ungrateful. But, sometimes it ends in a pretty good laugh in my house. And, honestly, I'm thankful for that.
I have good friends. I have the best kinds of friends. I'm not talking about the ones who show up when they think they should. They are posers and it actually makes me want to say "thanks but my dance ticket is full". I'm talking about the ones that show up all the time, whenever they want, and when they must. They never think they should. They just do.
Last week I got a call from someone I've been working with. If you've read earlier posts... he's referred to as an asshat. He started the conversation by asking if I was mad at him because I had been acting upset all week. My initial reaction was that he was totally and completely pathetic. He is a grown-ass man. GROW A PAIR. I wasn't angry. I was sick. I've been sick. I hated to deflate his gigantic ego (actually I loved it) but I had to remind him that this cancer thing, and the chemo thing, and all this shit that is making me sick is and has never been about him. And, at that moment I remember thinking... No, HE is the biggest bitch I ever met... cancer is A OK when I compare it to him.
Last week I was pretty much NOT a candyass. He cornered the market on that one.
________________________
I swear my cancer is a girl and she's a mean one. The kind that talks about you behind your back and then is sticky sweet to your face. The kind that hurts you simply because she can. She takes pleasure in all of these things. She's a bully. I hate her. We're not friends. (Plus she wears skanky clothes and her hair is super greasy.)
What is so frustrating about being sick is all the people that come out of the woodwork feeling sorry for you or feeling bad that they were a shitty friend and then trying to overcompensate for that by trying to be your best friend. Instead of being what you need, they end up working very hard at trying to be the kind of person they want you, and everyone else, to think they are when really they're just being posers for a moment while they try to gain a little favor from your misfortune.
You know what is so messed up about most of these "old" friends. They get upset if I don't acknowledge their cards or phone calls or whatever it is that they try to do. And, all I can say to them is that IT'S NOT ABOUT THEM. Half the time I don't even think it's about me. What I don't get is why they need validation for trying to be the friend they should have been all along. The friends I keep closest to me are the ones who do things for no reason and never out of a feeling of pity or obligation. My closest friends also know that I don't really let anyone do anything for me. They know that the way they show up for me is through a simple text or a call or a fun hour at lunch every week.
Tay, my bff (yes I'm 35 and I totally have a bff), knows all of this quite well. I don't let her do anything. But, I think she knows that I love her more for letting me just get through this and for not trying to do the things that make me crazy. Like bring me dinner. People who bring dinner to my house drive me nuts. Unless it's my mother or my sister, or that one neighbor who makes the best penne vodka ever. They get a pass. Everyone else has to keep their meals to themselves.
This one time (I love saying that) a girl from our neighborhood brought dinner over after I'd had Sam. And, it became the biggest joke in our house. She brought canned peas. I know, gasp! The gagging and dry heaving that came from my girls was funny enough to capture on video. It looked like Sam's diaper. It smelled worse. And, since then my girls have always giggled when they see this poor girl.
I'm grateful for the kindness of neighbors and strangers. I don't want to sound ungrateful. But, sometimes it ends in a pretty good laugh in my house. And, honestly, I'm thankful for that.
I have good friends. I have the best kinds of friends. I'm not talking about the ones who show up when they think they should. They are posers and it actually makes me want to say "thanks but my dance ticket is full". I'm talking about the ones that show up all the time, whenever they want, and when they must. They never think they should. They just do.
Last week I got a call from someone I've been working with. If you've read earlier posts... he's referred to as an asshat. He started the conversation by asking if I was mad at him because I had been acting upset all week. My initial reaction was that he was totally and completely pathetic. He is a grown-ass man. GROW A PAIR. I wasn't angry. I was sick. I've been sick. I hated to deflate his gigantic ego (actually I loved it) but I had to remind him that this cancer thing, and the chemo thing, and all this shit that is making me sick is and has never been about him. And, at that moment I remember thinking... No, HE is the biggest bitch I ever met... cancer is A OK when I compare it to him.
Last week I was pretty much NOT a candyass. He cornered the market on that one.
4 comments:
this is a test to see if @runwithmel can leave one too
thanks for sharing! you're definitely not a candyass and an hour (or mostly longer) lunch is the best therapy ever!
You just made me laugh when reading about cancer - that is talent. Found your blog through one of Azucar's shared Google Reader items - oh, you are funny. No Talk List was the highlight of my week.
amelia, thank you! your name is one of my favorite names ever. had my abby not been an abigail, she'd have been an amelia.
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