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"There's always room in life for this"
Oct. 17th, 2013 10:19 pmI've got all these strange thoughts refusing to cohere and the ones that do, I'm not ready to share with the world at large.
Quick thoughts: I still fucking hate breast cancer awareness month. I'm aware already, I wish I could just visually opt out. Before the BRCA diagnosis, I deliberately acquired an entire set of kitchenaid appliances in the color I refer to as "breast cancer pink" and I still love Priscilla (my drag queen of a stand mixer) but I'm so sick of everything making me grumpy. Magazines at the gym, walking into stores (seriously, there's mascara repackaged as supporting breast cancer awareness), facebook, etc.
Which sucks, because I love October as only a perpetually-too-warm recovering-goth girl can. I love Halloween crap. (earlier this week I sent Abudance a picture of the jet black paper towels Shaws is selling, because it needed to be witnessed.) And I've bought the sparkly halloween makeup at CVS, I've bought a ludicrous number of tickets for the people we're dragging to Canobie Lake Screeeeemfest.
I finally took the plunge, pulled the trigger on actually spending money and sending away for the 23andme genetic testing. I also said "what's the worst that could happen" but remembered that those were the exact words that I said to my PCP when she suggested genetic testing, so refrained. And there's all these narratives about the power of knowing, (I'm also reading Machine of Death, which is making me think thinky thoughts).
It's odd to me what I will do in the name of internal consistency. I quit smoking (ten years ago yesterday) because I couldn't reconcile the idea of telling Light I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him and doing something to shorten that life. If I've taken the BRCA test, it seems inconsistent not to find out about other genetic risks. I'm hoping that it will be useful information requiring no drastic medical decisions, but even if it does, I'm doing this thing. (and so is Light). So, be prepared for more oversharing, internet at large.
I may have already said this, but I suspect that on times, I present my feelings like my cats present a hairball, a horrible warning noise and then a mess (and often the backing away in horror). The cat may feel better, but no one involved actually wants it to happen. I've taught my phone to recognize the word feeeeeeeelings, because I tell Abundance I'm having them on a fairly regular basis. The extra e's make it feel less raw-edged, like I've withdrawn from the experience enough to be able to talk about it and mock myself.
I was going to answer some more of Wings' questions, and I've been trying to compare all the notes I have tucked away in my drafts folders to see if any of them are actually things I want to put out into the world. But they're stumping me at the moment, and I really truly need to go to bed.
Quick thoughts: I still fucking hate breast cancer awareness month. I'm aware already, I wish I could just visually opt out. Before the BRCA diagnosis, I deliberately acquired an entire set of kitchenaid appliances in the color I refer to as "breast cancer pink" and I still love Priscilla (my drag queen of a stand mixer) but I'm so sick of everything making me grumpy. Magazines at the gym, walking into stores (seriously, there's mascara repackaged as supporting breast cancer awareness), facebook, etc.
Which sucks, because I love October as only a perpetually-too-warm recovering-goth girl can. I love Halloween crap. (earlier this week I sent Abudance a picture of the jet black paper towels Shaws is selling, because it needed to be witnessed.) And I've bought the sparkly halloween makeup at CVS, I've bought a ludicrous number of tickets for the people we're dragging to Canobie Lake Screeeeemfest.
I finally took the plunge, pulled the trigger on actually spending money and sending away for the 23andme genetic testing. I also said "what's the worst that could happen" but remembered that those were the exact words that I said to my PCP when she suggested genetic testing, so refrained. And there's all these narratives about the power of knowing, (I'm also reading Machine of Death, which is making me think thinky thoughts).
It's odd to me what I will do in the name of internal consistency. I quit smoking (ten years ago yesterday) because I couldn't reconcile the idea of telling Light I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him and doing something to shorten that life. If I've taken the BRCA test, it seems inconsistent not to find out about other genetic risks. I'm hoping that it will be useful information requiring no drastic medical decisions, but even if it does, I'm doing this thing. (and so is Light). So, be prepared for more oversharing, internet at large.
I may have already said this, but I suspect that on times, I present my feelings like my cats present a hairball, a horrible warning noise and then a mess (and often the backing away in horror). The cat may feel better, but no one involved actually wants it to happen. I've taught my phone to recognize the word feeeeeeeelings, because I tell Abundance I'm having them on a fairly regular basis. The extra e's make it feel less raw-edged, like I've withdrawn from the experience enough to be able to talk about it and mock myself.
I was going to answer some more of Wings' questions, and I've been trying to compare all the notes I have tucked away in my drafts folders to see if any of them are actually things I want to put out into the world. But they're stumping me at the moment, and I really truly need to go to bed.
