Bald Is Better with Earrings (and a sexy Piano Man who gets funky pre-going-bald haircuts with you)

“Don’t think of it as dying”, said Death. “Just think of it as leaving early to avoid the rush.” ~ Good Omens, by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman  

 

Nope, I am not dying just yet, my Wicked Luvs, so stop reaching for your blood-red-and-midnight-black best… I just really love this quote. All right, I love most Pratchett quotes… and when my Knight Writer’s imaginative wit is joined by the yumminess of Neil Gaiman, well… I must share the wild, wild, wild wisdom.

I love that those words embrace the soul and center of my chronic positivity: I do believe, believe, believe… that there will always be something great to get out of even the worst of situations: if the next few months promise to keep you dazed for hours at the time, catch up with all those TV shows you’ve been meaning to watch; if all your bits get so exhausted that you feel they are about to fall off, think of the whole thing as a challenge against your endurance; if the glorious jungle that is your hair is about to fall off in a week or 3, get funky haircuts with your partner in crime, in love, in living; when life gets too serious for games, play seriously hard; when darkness threatens to feed on all that is bright, let your fire burn, shine…

This year, my Piano Man and I were not so sure we would make it to New York Comic Con. I was supposed to have a port inserted last week, on the same day the convention started. But… completely coincidentally (and not because my doctors totally rock), the surgery was scheduled for after the convention. We did not attend two or 3 days, as we have done in the past, but we got to go on Sunday. And since the very first thing we saw (a Good Omens booth) included the phrase “third nipple”, I just knew all would be well (and slightly hysterical).

If we’re friends on Facebook, then you already saw this picture. Still, I had to share it again. I mean, how often do you get to show the faces of your husband and your TV boyfriend in the same picture? *waves at Crowley aka the coolest Doctor ever*.

There was not a lot of swag (that my Piano Man and I were interested in) this year, but we found rather cool earrings for the not-so-little Princess and for me. This pair glows in the dark. I might have to take them trick-or-treating.

Remember that bit I said at the beginning? About how “I believe… that there will always be something great to get out of even the worst of situations”? Well, I have finally figure out what to do with all the pins I have been hoarding for years. This one, which reads, “I’m wondering what to read next…”, was a gift from Rommy. The black ribbon came with a gift from Emma. See? I did not lose a breast, I just found a cool place to show off my pins and ribbons and scarves. 😀

These two might be my new most favorite pairs of earrings. How many beings get to say that they can dangle the TARDIS and two bat’leths from their ear lobes?

 

health Updates and other bits…

1. I am doing well, just busy juggling doctor’s visits and new treatment planning.
2. My inbox is full and then some. I’m not ignoring you, but… it might take me a while to get to your messages and emails and such.
3. The Beautiful Freaks Fest 2 announcement post will go live Monday or Tuesday. What? Don’t tell me you thought we would skip this year. Of course not! freakish beauty is relentless. Besides, nothing replenishes the soul (and distracts the flesh from hurling its guts out) like a wild bit of cyber-partying with awesome friends.
4. The title of this post was partly borrowed from Andrea Hutton’s Bald is Better with Earrings: A Survivor’s Guide to Getting Through Breast Cancer.
5. I don’t like even numbers, so here is an odd line… just for me (and for you, too, of course… if you want it): be good, be wild, be deliciously you… always.

 

Trinkets and Armor, 6: Don’t Be an Ass(umer)

I conjured the piece below 3 years ago, after an extremely intelligent and sexy and unbelievably modest wild woman invited her tribe to write a poem that let everyone glimpse into how they readied themselves before facing known troubles, and what they did to cope once mayhem had done its thing.

Last week, when a poet and friend inquired about how I dealt with a breast cancer diagnosis on top of Crohn’s disease and a busted hip and a messed-up shoulder and a bad back and… well, you get the point, I went ahead and sent him “I know How to Fall” as an answer. Later that night, after I finished reading my emails, I thought the same poem would be an appropriate response to Trinkets and Armor 6.

 

“I Know How to Fall”

I know how to fall
out of love in a flash,
almost
always
without skinning my heart

or breaking
my hubris’ bone.

I make list after list
(five days prior to the arrival of now)
and for each item, I create ‘What ifs…’

What if my lips are cracked and bloodied,
and I can’t wake the princess with a kiss?

What if exhaustion makes me thoughtless,
and I break the crystal coffin
without seeing what lies within?

What if gut and backbone turn against me,
and I can’t take three steps
without crying twelve howls and one shriek?

Unknowns must be roused properly,
coffins are too valuable to lose.
If my nerve leaves me,
I’ll run into the woods
and reclaim it.

I know how to fall
out of love
with what’s expected—

I practice.

 

…and now, Trinkets and Armor 6:

 

Some people have turned baseless assuming into a terribly destructive art. But don’t get me wrong, my Wicked Luvs, I totally understand that anyone can be an ass(umer) under the right (wrong?) conditions. Even moi (I know! I was shocked, too. I mean, we’ve all heard about my perfection, haven’t we?). Anyway *cough*, my latest erroneous assumption has to do with something I failed to make clear in “Shame is Useless for Living (but Excellent for Senryū)” or Trinkets and Armor 5.

In that post, I suggested that I won’t have time to entertain private questions about being ill, especially if I’ve already shared the relevant information on my blog. It seems that some of my friends thought I meant that they couldn’t contact me at all. I apologize, my Wicked Luvs. I was not trying to shut you out. I might not be able to reply right away all the time, but please know that my eyes and ears and heart remain open to you (you feed my ink and grins, remember?). I assumed that was understood…  and my assumption was wrong. Last week’s message was meant for the strange (and not in a good way) souls who have called or messaged me with the sort of crap quoted below (yes, every single one of those is a direct quotation):

– “It’s okay to be scared of cancer and want it out. But rushing into severe surgery is a mistake. Search the net before you decide…” My response: You obviously don’t know me. If you did, you’ve never oozed this kind of crap my way. You should search the net before assuming.

– “Don’t give up on reconstruction because you fear the pain. Pain is easier than stares. Trust me…” My response: Like the ass(umer) above, you don’t know me either. If you did, you’d know how stupid this sounds. Trust me.

– “Don’t be forced to get reconstruction because of a man. Your body, your choice. He can have an opinion when he’s the one suffering a woman’s problem…” My response: You aren’t just an ass(umer), but also a dumbass. The first because you dare to believe that you know anything about my relationship with my Piano Man. The second because, well… dearie, you do know that men have breasts too, right? Really. You should “search the net”.

– “There’re alternatives to being butchered by a doctor that only wants your money. Be smarter. I’ve read about many natural ways to cure cancer.  If I were you, I would try things that let me keep my breast first. If that doesn’t work, you can always do the other thing later…” My response (okay, this is mostly my Piano Man’s response *he did NOT appreciate that particular pearl of wisdom*): How is betting [my] life on what some idiot has “read” about “curing” cancer be “smart”? Maybe she can try that sort of treatment on her rotted brain. Um… it’s likely that the last bit was all me *cough…*.

I know, I know… those responses were neither pretty nor constructive. This is the reason why I didn’t offer them as a reply to the actual messages. I am sharing them here, so that you can see why I try to limit chronic illness related conversations to public platforms. Not just because most people’s foolishness tends to decrease a degree (or 2) when shared publicly, but… also because if they are posted here, one (or 13) of you might assist me in offering a proper response to their madness (yep, I’m a terrible individual who takes advantage of her dear friends’ aversion to stupidity).

 

This week, T&A Warriors *slightly naughty giggles* have two options: 1. share a bit about how you ready yourself before facing known (or unknown) troubles; or, 2. tell us about how you handle uninformed (and often dangerous) advice from well-meaning people who don’t really know what they are talking about). Please remember that your entries don’t have to be about illness. I keep on revisiting this topic simply because that’s where I am right now. Write about what matters to you.

To participate in Trinkets and Armor, please add the direct link to your entry at the end of your comment. If you don’t have a blog or a public platform, or don’t wish to write a post, just add your contribution as a comment. If you can, take a minute to read other entries. Unrelated links will be deleted without explanation.

Linked to Poets United.