The Way Things Are



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Oh, duckies. Itís that time
2005-05-24, 1:03 p.m.

Oh, duckies. Itís that time of the month, again. No, not THAT time of the monthÖitís the time of the month before that time of the month, the time wherein I feel all hopeless and deflated and pessimistic. Yeah, right, make your jokes. Iím am NOT always like that.

Hopeless point #1:

Why am I bothering to work out 5X a week? I have gained 5 pounds, and my waist has grown an inch. Iím eating sensibly most of the time (rather than eating crap most of the time), working my ass off, and getting bigger.

Hopeless point #2:

Why do I bother cleaning the house? Honestly. There are empty coke, beer and iced tea cans all over the house because nobody around here except me bothers to throw shit away. Paper plates, Kleenex, paper towels, the plastic ring off the milk jug, the plastic newspaper sleeveÖall of these live on. These people, consisting of DW and Lil Guy, fail to notice the trash they accumulate and leave lying around. Not to mention the empty cups, shoes, pens & pencils, dirty clothes, and the anti-itch medication that someone used on their jock itch and left sitting out. It accumulates faster than I can pick it up.

Hopeless point #3:

There is no number 3.

But really, losing weight/getting in shape and housecleaning are two big-ass major deals to me. I hate a dirty house, and I have a dirty house. I am managing to keep the kitchen clean, and I am managing to keep the sheets and towels clean, put away all my clean clothes, and make the bed every day. But thereís just shit everywhere else, and I am on the brink of giving up.

I havenít given up on the working out yet, because some small kernel of hope tells me that even if I continue to grow and expand, there must surely be some benefit to working out. Anyone? Anyone?

Hopeless point #4:

I am most likely going to get breast cancer in the next 5 years. My mother had it at 42. I just canít see a future for myself without it. I have resigned myself to it Ė hopefully it wonít happen, but yeah, shit in one hand, and hope in the other, and see what youíve got. I know that most people live through it, provided itís caught early, and Iím doing everything I know to make sure if it happens, it is caught early. The prospect of it does not freak me out. Iím sure if/when it really happens, Iíll be freaking out all over the damn place, but for now, I have see many folks survive and look all punk rock when their hair starts growing back, and I believe that watching them be strong has made me stronger.

Be that as it may, what does DW decide to do? Why, cancel our health insurance, thatís what.

Why, you ask? Because heís tired of dicking around with the insurance company. Heís tired of paying premiums. Heís tired of paying into something thatís not paying back out. Why do we need it? Weíve been healthy up to this point. Hello, karma anyone? Godís dark bitter irony, table for 2?

When I remind him of my family history and the unimaginable costs of treating breast cancer WITHOUT HEALTH INSURANCE he tells me that he guesses heís just more of an optimist than I am. And that the reason I have been on anti-anxiety meds in years past, and all stressed out at work is that I am a pessimist.

Wh-wh-wh-WHAT??? Name one thing that I have foreseen (pessimistically, realistically, whatever) that hasnít actually happened? Itís not that I believe Iím special and bad things rain down on me more than anybody else, but I can figure out whatís going to happen long before it happens, and I have not been wrong in I donít know how long. I suppose that by being a realist, I am not all that shocked and surprised when the bad things that I believe are going to happen actually happen. In fact, I think I deal quite well. I keep slogging forward. In fact again, itís kind of a relief when if does happen because there you are, and Bobís your uncle.

But his attitude is that we need to stay optimistic, and we need to believe that God will take care of us, and we need to believe that weíll be able to handle whatever is thrown at us. ďLike losing our house over medical bills,Ē I asked? ďYouíre obviously not of the same frame of mind as I am, and that bothers me,Ē he replied.

Itís not worth going on about it, but I didnít really fear the future until this very day. Iím going to hate getting the short end of the stick when his sunny optimism comes crashing down around my head and weíre discussing ďWell, if you DONíT do chemo, we can save $50,000 and all your hair.Ē Iíll make a pretty, pretty corpse.

God doesnít take care of people. Um 9/11 anyone? Yeah, that. God doesnít swoop in and turn airplanes around, or push children out of the way of oncoming traffic, or dissolve cancer in a personís body. Sure, maybe miracles happen. But can we count on these because we think weíre special? I think not. We surely cannot eliminate health insurance because we are going to clap our hands and believe.

Bah, Iím in a bad mood. Plus, according to my stats and dearth of comments, I believe that this joinal has died a quiet death. When I was writing for myself and nobody knew it was here but me, that was fine. It kind of made me nervous to think of people finding it and reading this crap. But now! Now! Now Iím kind of embarrassed.

I wish I were funny, or interesting, or entertaining, or had something important and compelling to say, or even that I was a train wreck and folks were tuning in to watch my fiery demise.

But you know, as my olí cussing grandma Frances used to say, wish in one hand, shit in the other, and see which one fills up faster.

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