I want to warn you right off the bat... I'm going to use the "c" word a lot in this post. A couple of them, actually. Maybe even a few. If you can't handle that kind of language, go no farther. Should that be further? Should we take the time to examine those semantics, or just move on and get up to some antics?
Today my friends, I want to talk about a topic that's sure to get a few laughs... cancer.
Not the zodiac sign, but the disease that kills millions of people. The one that they secretly have a cure for, (though somehow even old billionaires die from cancer) that they don't release, because they make more money just 'treating' it. That cancer.
If you haven't guessed already, I got diagnosed with some cancer in the time I've been away. Colon cancer, which I think is the funniest of all cancers. I mean, if you don't chuckle a little bit when you hear about ass cancer, there's just no joy in your life.
Now if you're thinking to yourself, "Oh no, Hugh is doomed, what will we do without him?" then fear not. I'm not going anywhere. True to my contrarian nature, I'm going to tell you something you don't hear everyday:
Getting cancer was great!
Okay, so maybe it wasn't great great, but it wasn't bad, and I'll tell you why. It turns out that there IS a cure for many forms of cancer, and it's not a secret at all. In fact, we've known about it for centuries. The best cure it seems, at least for my particular flavor of ass cancer, was knives.
Honestly, it may have just been one knife. I didn't count. I was pretty completely unconscious, though it took them a while to get me there. You see, when you have to have surgery, they give you some unpronounceable drug cocktail through an IV line. Unfortunately, before they stick that IV line in you, they tell you not to eat or drink anything for about 24 hours. If, like me, you have thick skin and deep blood vessels, this level of induced dehydration will make it pretty tough to get a needle in your vein. After they poked around in BOTH my arms for about 5 minutes, I passed out and had a little seizure.
Does that sound alarming? It's really not. Happens all the time when foreign metal object get wiggled around under my skin. I was disappointed with myself for being such a bother, but really proud of myself for not swearing or hitting anyone. Since I was such a good sport about it, they finally quit torturing me and called in a professional, who had my intravenous drug line inserted and flowing on the first try.
Shortly after that, I lost about 12 hours of time.
If you really need some sleep, I recommend surgery. Whatever unpronounceable drug cocktail they give you for abdominal surgery is like a vacation. Not the kind of vacation where your family and the kids stress you out the whole time, but the kind of vacation where you call in to work sick, don't tell anybody you're home, and just stay home and sleep. I haven't slept that good in... well... ever.
Waking up left a little bit to be desired. It was like having a hangover, only instead of a single stabbing pain in my head, it was several stabbing pains in my body. I must have farted during surgery or something, because after stabbing me full of holes and waking me up, they decided to torture me a little more and make me move onto a different bed. I didn't have to move very far, but man, it was hard. Apparently, every muscle in your body is somehow connected to your abdomen, and I had several fresh holes in mine. I also had a catheter in, which was a first for me. There may be a way to move comfortably with a plastic tube inserted ALL the way into your pee-hole, but I didn't learn what it was.
I DID learn a couple days later that although they were nice enough to wait until I was drugged to insert the catheter, they weren't as free with the drugs when they took it out. I must have a textbook dick, because they decided I would be a good subject for a demonstration when they removed my catheter. Mind you, I hadn't seen a single student learning in this hospital since they built it, but whatever. Sure. I agreed to it, and I'm glad I did, because watching 5 medical students (2 of them women) wince harder than me when they pulled it out was totally worth it.
Recovering from surgery was WAY worse than having cancer. I've been lightly stabbed before... siblings, lovers, band mates, just the kinds of people we've all been stabbed by. Surgery was not a light stabbing. Those bastards really cut me deep.
Recovering from cancer, however, has been fantastic. It's like I'm aging backwards. I'd been going through life, just thinking I was getting too old too fast. I even wrote a few jokes about it, thinking it was all just normal stuff. It turns out I wasn't getting that old at all, I just had cancer.
Now, I know that Hollywood is full of people who get diagnosed with cancer, and amend all their wrongs, and come to some great epiphany about life that they want to share with everyone. Not me. I already had all my great life epiphanies before I hit puberty. All I really learned from getting cancer is that it turns out you don't really need your colon.
I was surprised, but not shocked by this news. We all know that we don't need an appendix, or spleen, or tonsils. I had already learned that I don't really need a gall bladder, though I still have mine, for now... I think. Maybe the surgeon tossed me a freebie while he mucking around in there. He DID know that my gall bladder should come out. It's gotten me to wondering what other organs I might have that are just taking up space. They better stay in line, that's all I know. One complaint from my liver and I'll have that sucker yanked out like a catalytic converter. If I tell one of the local tweakers that it is a catalytic converter, they might just yank it out for free.
That's what happened when this cunt got cancer. I'm here to tell you folks, other than being kind of expensive, it's not all that bad. Certainly not bad enough to get down about, if you find yourself being diagnosed with some of your own. Make sure you ask if they have any knives.
Should I say something poignant? A morsel of wisdom to reward you for reading almost 1200 words? I'm not sure I'm qualified to, but I'll try.
We spend so much time thinking about the things we need, or want. Today my friends, I hope I've encouraged you to take some time to think about the things you don't need. Like your colon. Don't be afraid to let things go. Especially if they're killing you. Especially if it's just some useless appendage hanging off your asshole and bringing around 'friends' that want to kill you.
You don't need that kind of baggage in your life.
This photo of the truck seems appropriate enough, because I had to do some surgery on its ass shortly after the doctor performed surgery on mine.