Linkage updated.

Since I never know how often I'll be updating links, I'm going to announce it here like it's a Really Big Event, so yeah, linkage update.  JS

People get bent out of shape when I express my perspective on things and it's different from their perspective.  I can't figure out if they find me more offensive than I find them or if I find them more offensive than they find me.  Either way, it's fucking amusing as all get out, at the very least.

Mets Monday: Get Up Swinging featured a post by Carolyn.  Yes, you should go give it a read because yes, it's that fucking awesome.

Cult of Perfect Motherhood has a post called How the Hubs Feels.  This is content that is great enough to (hopefully) get people to pay the fuck attention to what goes on regarding a cancer diagnosis.

Amazingly enough, most of my traffic on here is still coming from pinterest, but here's further exploration, just for fun.

People are coming in from Pinterest, fakebook, google--just exactly what people are googling to get results which include my page, I have no idea of why that is, Ravelry, and a few other sites that I'm not sure exactly who or what they are.

And here's a list of my top views by country, so you can see I'm internationally read.

United States, Canada, France, United Kingdom, Russia, Australia, Indonesia, Poland, Germany, and Belgium.

Apparently, I am also internationally re-twitted with my food porn images.  This makes me a happy little camper.  What doesn't make me a happy little camper and does piss me off in an angrivated way is getting a twit follower who messages me and whines about the F bombs I drop on occasion.  If you don't like what I say or how I say it, don't fucking read what I fucking post!  What a waste of that person's time typing and sending that to me and a waste of my time fucking reading it.  FUCKETY FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.  JS  (See what I did there?  That was clever, wasn't it?  Am I helpful, or what?)

So yeah, linkage updated.  

I've decided that I'm going to be utilizing this blog as an outlet/base for exploring further resources related to DES (diethylstilbestrol) and the information about it being related to breast cancer, since that's what I was diagnosed with.  Stay tuned for further bitching about this, because it's very likely this is why I was diagnosed with (HER2+) breast cancer in 2011.  Yes, I knew about the increased risk of CCA (clear cell adenocarcinoma), however I didn't make a connection in the Swiss cheese that is my brain now that perhaps I should explore this potential connection further until recently.  

Rest or sabotage?

Resting when needed has gone much further toward me becoming more functional than anything else.  Just thought I'd toss that out there. 

Sure, eating and being active can help, but if you're eating better and trying to be active and not seeing any improvement, maybe it's time to listen more to your body and back off on the food changes and activity and rest more, then try to gradually incorporate the dietary and activity changes back into your routine.  

Sometimes rest is the thing that's needed the most.  Sure, it's difficult to do that, but damn, are we slowing down our recovery times by trying to jump back into everything with both feet, rather than trying to recover gradually?  I've often wondered about this, but never really said much of anything about it until now.

Bitchitude pays off, a collection of posts collated into one for the week.

Yes, indeed. 

Do you know what it's like to have someone say "Because of you, I didn't get reconstructed and I'm okay with it." because *I, as in me, HorseDoovers* didn't get reconstructed? That's pretty damn cool.

Do you know what it's like to have someone say "Thank you for what you said on your blog because I've had the same thoughts, I just never said anything.  You said it perfectly." and it was unsolicited?

Do you know what it's like to have someone say "Thank you for having the Cancer Bitches group because it's real?" and know they really mean it because the were in a group where they were hassled for their realistic perspective of the shit related to cancer?

It makes me pretty damn pleased with myself that I've been enough of a bitch to speak up against what is the anticipated social "norm" of "acceptable behavior" and keep on speaking up, regardless of what others said/thought/did and now, others are speaking up.

We just all need to find each other because yes, we all do exist, those of us who are speaking up about what was done to us and it's okay and tolerable and acceptable for us to have a very ugly view of the cancer industry.  We admit that cancer didn't make us into "better people" and that what it did to us was turn us into people who don't tolerate shit from anyone now.  

That's what speaking up has done for us, we realize we aren't alone.

Recently, I was out with my husband and we ate lunch.  At the next table, there happened to be two men sitting there eating their lunch.  With going flat, I've become accustomed to people looking at me strangely.  Normally, it doesn't bother me, I don't gaf, I don't try to hide it.  I suppose some people would say I flaunt it and I don't care.  Their issues are just that, theirs, and I don't make their issues with it into my problem, which is why I don't try to hide being flat.  But, I noticed this guy was looking at me like I was a complete freak since it was obvious with the kind of shirt I had on, I'm flat.  Flat as in concave, let's say.

So, I looked at him as I was getting up to leave, turned around, and followed my husband out of the restaurant.  I walked out as if I owned the fucking place.  My husband doesn't realize what happened and that's okay.  This is my issue to deal with.  When someone gives me a strange look, I do look back at them so they see I've noticed and I go into "I own this, fucker." mode, even if a tiny part of my brain doesn't want to, I still fucking do it because eventually, all of my brain will catch up with that 99% of I Own This Mode.

I have days when I struggle with being the ugly duckling, for lack of a better way to put it, even even though I'm 3+ years out from surgery.  Other days, it's not a big deal for me to own it the entire time I'm out and about and no, I don't get overly analytic about why a day may go into one category or the other, it just is the way it is.  I also don't lie to myself about how great I am now since I've had cancer by trying to convince myself I'm "new and improved" and super de duper better since that would be fucking lying to myself because I'm not "new and improved" or "better" and I refuse to go along with what's expected of me now as a former oncology patient, since there was nothing wrong with the old, functional me.

Someone who doesn't lie about how things are is Knot Telling.  In her post, Why I Lied to My Doctor, she's very truthful about why and how being honest with your doctor isn't always helpful for people like us, believe it or not.

4 Times and Counting talks about how cancer patients are not Collateral Damage in this post and many of us feel that way.  Some of us acknowledge it, others remain in denial and refuse to say there is a deeper and even multiple impact of breast cancer on our lives.

Your Body, After Cancer, by Diane Mapes, is about seldom covered issues of the post-cancer body.

Life, Interrupted:  Lost in Transition After Cancer, by Suleika Jaouad writes beautifully about trying to figure out who she is now.

Study Reveals Treatment for Women with Breast Cancer Suffering Cognitive Difficulties tells of brain fog which causes problems with concentration, organization, and even activities such as following a schedule or planning things to do.

15 Things You Don't Owe Anyone (Even Though You Think You Do)  Do yourself a favor, pay attention to this and ponder how you can apply it to your life.

Song of My-Selfie by Sara Sophia Eisenman is a wonderful article about finding our identities and sharing ourselves in this day and age of media all over the place.  (Here's what I said:  I loved reading this. As someone who has completely lost my identity and both breasts to the abuses of the cancer industry, and yes, it is an industry, I appreciate every “selfie” I see of other women also trying to find their way through wrecked and mangled bodies, bald heads from chemo and/or radiation, and other assorted collateral damage that is now our lives as people who somehow managed to survive what was done to us. We can find out we aren’t alone in trying to reconfigure our identities as women, even though men can and do get breast cancer, also.)

Julie Frayn wrote a delightful post called Warning - foul language ahead, in which she goes into profanity, swearing, and F bombs in an entertaining and agreeable manner.

Let me wrap this post up with some helpful commentary;  it pays to bake for the mechanic guys.  I randomly bake them cookies for no reason, other than I like to bake for other people, as well as my family.  I have baked for the mechanics, teachers at school, neighbors, construction people building our house, etc. because I like to bake.  Some people knit and I'm not that coordinating, so baking it is.

My husband needed a vehicle to drive to work since he was in the process of changing jobs.  We took a trucky thing to the place we get oil changes, engine work, etc. done.  They looked it over and confirmed it had a timing problem because it idled very rough.  Didn't charge us at all and if they had, it would have been around fifty dollars.

To make a long story short, we found a vehicle for him and purchased it.  The tire light came on, so we took it to be looked at.  They fixed that right up and didn't charge us.  The cost would have been around ten dollars.

We got on the big road and my husband noticed it was slightly off at a high speed, so that meant the tired needed to be balanced, so we dropped it off.  A few hours later, I took him to pick it back up and there was no charge.  If there had been, it would have been around forty dollars.

I spent the evening baking a ton of cookies to take to the mechanic guys because they, by all rights, should have charged us for their time and what they did, but they didn't.  Since they didn't, I figured the least I could do was take them cookies.  That was definitely worth every chocolate chip, as was seeing how pleased they were at being given cookies, so that was a lot of fun.

For your reading pleasure--

I give you not a post on April 1st, because then you might not take anything I posted seriously.

Cancer Bitches has just absolutely taken off like you wouldn't believe; more and more people are joining like crazy.  I guess it's pretty damn obvious that I'm not the only one who was turned into a bitch by cancer and who despises the pink ribbon shit, so that is awesome sauce.

603 Pinterest followers, with 348 of those being on A Valid Option.

#foodporn seems to be my largest amount of retweets, retwits, whatever it's called, so I know where everyone's minds wandered off to.

A few weeks ago, Streak made a lovely herb covered pork roast covered with onion in her slow cooker and was kind enough to share the recipe with me.  She was kind enough to invite me over with my slow cooker and she fixed the same thing in mine, which stayed there to cook and then we ate over there.  She made mashed potatoes, green beans, and lovely honey rosemary carrots.  It was a spectacular meal which I figured up made at least three huge meals to feed multiple people.  I also replicated it a week later.  If I can't find the recipe on pinterest soon, I may put it up here so the rest of you can fix this.  The lovely ladies at our dentist's office all have the recipe, so it is getting circulation in this area.

RedHun recently won a five hundred dollar gift certificate, which I thought was cool.

Military Monkey is no longer Military Monkey.  He received an honorable discharge from the military and will now be referred to as Civvie Monkey until I can come up with an appropriate new name for him.  He'll be going to college, but since I have a College Monkey already, then I can't use that name for him.  He and his adorable wife will be relocating soon to warmer living space.

College Monkey is changing jobs.  He worked at his first job for two years, so this will be new territory for him and I think he'll like it.

Football Monkey has been doing Robotics, along with ROTC and football stuff.  He got his football ring and it's an amazing sight to see.

The husband watching football stuff right now, which is always a good thing when it's not football season.  We miss football season.

My lymphedema is driving me batty on the right side, namely my right upper arm.  Why, you ask?  Because of the storm fronts that keep moving through.  The change in air pressure affects my arm more than I ever thought it could.  I need to acquire more kinesio tape so I can bribe Streak with cookies to tape me for pain control since I'd rather not sleep in my mono-sleeve thingy.

Time to make more toothpaste, which is always fun.

And a big Fuck You to the vile cancer industry and a big cheer for this project, Woman:  Redefined, Dignity, and Breast Cancer.  If only I'd had access to something like this before my surgery, I might have had a slightly different perspective about the vileness of my body and what it would look like with the nasty scars.  I hope these people succeed far beyond what they ever could have imagined at the beginning of this project.

Since I wound up back on the subject of cancer, I try to help other people, you know, with stuff like the Cancer Bitches group.  I keep getting thanked for it.  None are needed, I just want people to have a safe place away from the mindlessly brainwashed masses who have had breast cancer and actually believe the pink ribbon shit does something for them.  Harsh of me, well, fuck yeah, then again, I'm an opinionated bitch and I've been speaking my mind about my opinions regarding the lies of the cancer industry and other assorted shit related to it.  

Cancer Bitches was started to give people a safe place to vent and say they are having a shitty day or week without fucking fake ass shit spewed at them in an insincere and smarmy assed, priggish manner.  (Jesus fucking christ, I'm so happy I just got to use a form of the word prig here!)  There's a need for the bitchtastic bitchitude of the Bitcherhood that is Cancer Bitches and no, we dgaf.  Sometimes people need a virtual hug and not told they aren't doing cancer "right" because they are having a bad day or week. JS

Anyway, I'm modifying the following topic as a warning to you non-cancer community people of what NOT to say to someone who has had cancer.  I've had this happen more than once.  True fact.  (I must warn you now, please go pee because you might wet yourself laughing or you'll be offended as fuck.)

The subject of hair came up.  Those of us who have been bald from chemo and/or radiation know the bizarre-ness of people commenting on the bald and/or touching the fuzz that is hair trying to grow back.  It's rather humiliating, it's a disgusting violation of the Personal Bubble Space, and well, it's as offensive as fuck all, like grabbing for a visibly pregnant stranger's expanding waistline while idiotic comments are being made.

(That said, I don't touch anyone's pregnant belly, but I'll lean down and wave and say "Hey, little person, nice to see you there!" which people find amusing and inoffensive.)

My commentary on Cancer Bitches went something like this.

Just wait until you get one of the stupid dumb ass questions that you aren't anticipating. This happened to me more than once, but now it's not about the hair, it's about the scars and flat chest.  But this is how I deal with it now, but it took me a few times to figure it out.  I might be slow, but I didn't fall off the pumpkin truck last year.  True fact.  

Me:  *standing there minding your own business*

Dumb Ass:  *figures out you've had cancer*  Oh, so you've had cancer!  Your hair is growing back!

Me:  Yes, thank you.

Dumb Ass:  So, your hair fell out?

Me:  Yes.

Dumb Ass:  So ALL of your hair fell out?

Me:  Yes.

Dumb Ass:  So aaaAAALLLlll of your hair fell out?  *at this point I'm given what they think is a "KNOWING" look*  ALL Of It?!

Me:  *not figuring out what they meant until this conversation happened several times, but because I'm so fucking awesome, I now know how to deal with it and am sharing with others, so they can deal with it in an awesomely bitchtastic way*  Oh, if you mean ALL of my hair, as in even the hair on my girly bits, why yes, yes it did ALL fall out.  Any more questions?

Dumb Ass:  *looks appalled that I called them on it*  Oh.

Me:  Any further questions?

Dumb Ass:  No.

Please, for fuck's sake, do not ever ask someone that.  I cannot imagine what the fucking thoughts in someone's head actually prompts them to spout this shit out like it's perfectly acceptable content for acceptable social behavior when conversing with a complete stranger like discussing the weather.

What the ever loving fuck all?

Just please don't do it.

Thank you for your time and attention regarding this manner.  That is your friendly PSA about what not to say to a current or former oncology patient.

You are now returned to your regularly scheduled blog reading, food porn or whatever you're into these days.