Cancer Declarations

[Mtngrl]

Kathi Kolb, the Accidental Amazon, has a new blog post that's well worth reading, especially the last bit, which says:

"Thus, for anyone out there who is not a cancerland resident. . . and thus doesn’t get it, here are a few declarations, in case you blocked them out the first or seventeenth time around, or just thought perhaps I was making it all up.

1. No, I am not ‘all better.’
2. Yes, I am still slogging my way through fatigue and low energy three-and-a-half years later. No, it’s not as bad as it was. Now, it’s less like being run over by a freight train and more like being flattened by the occasional stray eighteen-wheeler.
3. Yes, my concentration just sucks sometimes. And my train of thought sometimes derails unexpectedly. Although I can still usually find my way home.
4. When #2 or #3 are bad enough, I have to stop what I’m doing. Immediately. Not when it’s convenient for you.
5. I am working part-time not by choice, but out of necessity due to #2, 3 and 4.
6. That means I pay all my old bills with 1/5 less income. So if I say I can’t afford it, I can’t afford it. Period.
7. That also means that saying, ‘Why don’t you just hire someone to [fill in the blank with exertional life/home/yard task] for you?’ is not a helpful suggestion.
8. That also means that suggesting I should get more physical therapy for my chronic cording/arm/shoulder/chest pain is about as helpful as baying at the moon, because it involves a $500 out-of-pocket deductible and an average $30 co-pay for each visit, which I can’t afford. Besides which, it’s almost pointless, because no matter how much physical therapy is done on me, the problem always comes back.
9. It always comes back because radiation damage is permanent. P-E-R-M-A-N-E-N-T. Write that down and stop bugging me. If you really give a shit, how about buying me a hot tub?
10. No, I cannot work ‘some extra time’ to make up for my lost income. I can barely scrape out my part-time hours. That’s P-A-R-T time. See #2, 3, 4, 5 and 8.
11. When I make plans to hang out with you so we can catch up after not seeing each other for a while, that doesn’t mean it’s okay to bring your secretary/sister-in-law/new boyfriend/other-person-I’ve-never-met-before to tag along without asking me beforehand so that maybe their presence will mean I won’t talk about cancer. Guess again. This is where I live and I’ll talk about whatever I damn well please. And if you don’t like it, don’t make plans with me.
12. No, I am not cured. I am NED. There’s a difference. Look it up.
13. No, I will not explain any of this to you again.
14. The next time you don’t understand something, I suggest you RMFB, which stands for ‘Read my ___-ing blog.’

Ahhh…I feel much better now."