Monday Funday: #4 NAPS

Puppy Nap

I HAZ A NAP

A warm afternoon NAP is like being dipped in golden fairy dust, watching God create another solar system and then letting Rainbow Brite’s personal waterfall wash over you until you wake up, ready to battle the rest of your day with a smile and feeling 20 pounds lighter.

When I have a NAP, enveloped by my oversized duvet, it’s just like sleeping in a pile of #19 BABY PANDAS.

Do yourself a service, stop your afternoon for a NAP. It may be a cat NAP or a dog NAP (which is much longer than the cat variety, and way less alert,) it may even be one at work! Do it for your health – it prevents burnout, lowers your risk of heart attacks and saves an endangered species.

I am now off to bed. Don’t worry about holding my calls because: napping. stops. time. So, stop reading, leave your work behind, and join me for history’s most beautiful NAP.

The Secret of PHLEGM

When stress starts to build up, it’s hard not to be crushed by the wave and have it pull you out to sea. When I’m pushed past my stress point I feel like I’m flailing in a big ocean in my mind, the undertow always at my ankle. Luckily, having been diagnosed with mental illness since I was in GRADE SIX, I’ve picked up a few de-stressing tips. Some work, some make you look like you live on the street, and one in particular will cure all your problems.

A lot of de-stressing tactics are preventative, a preemptive strive, if you will. This means eating healthy and getting some exercise and knowing your emotions. You have to be able to know your own body signs so you can step back before your head blows up. This category also includes the “skill” Thought Stopping which is basically snapping yourself with an elastic band or shouting STOP in your head when you start on that disaster path thinking. Then the therapists teach you to quickly distract yourself with a stone in your pocket. “You just spend some time feeling its bumps and crevices.” They say pinecones work for this too, but after snapping myself with a rubber band and nearly fainting from screaming in my head, pinecones in my pockets are right out.

I meditate. It takes the same amount of patience as teaching a yappy Shih Tzu (or what my sweetie, Julia, calls “squiggle-shitters”) to say… well, anything. But, you’ll find your stress levels are always a few notches lower than they were. And no, you don’t have to chant or sit like a human pretzel.

BUT, sometimes none of this works. That’s life. If you believe in God, maybe you can relate when all I have to say to him isn’t “Why are we here?” but “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?”

For these flailing times, flying around your house knocking things over, sitting in front of the computer ready to Falcon Punch it through the roof, at work ready to pull a customer’s spine out through their neck, or in bed hiding from your To Do list and ready to burst – if not into tears then definitely into fire – I have the secret for you.

If you’re like Julia and I, swearing comes naturally at this point. If you don’t swear out loud, you’re thinking it. SO, we discovered that you can easily go from F U to LOL in a matter of seconds with a simple switcheroo. Here are the steps:

  1. Catch yourself stressing out.
  2. Zero in on a bad word you’re repeating (ex. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!)
  3. Simply switch that word with the miracle word: Phlegm.
  4. You should now be saying something like: PHLEGM! PHLEGM! PHLEGM!
  5. You will be laughing.

Phlegm is one of the best words of all time simply because it most resembles what it describes. The letters, the H, L and the E and G, M, all of it looks gloopy like phlegm itself. It’s also funny sounding. It takes me right back to being a kid on the school ground, laughing at a dirty word, like “poop,” so hard I lose consciousness and fall backwards off the slide. I want to personally thank the word wizards who came up with Phlegm because recently (through my cancer thing and Julia’s end-of-school-year pile up) it’s turned our moods around. It’s the ultimate Care Bear Stare.

So, just try it next time. You may feel crazy but laughter is guaranteed. And if you think I’m lying, well PHLEGM YOU.

LOL, works every time.

Toy Show Fun Time, pt. I: Bad News First

The Show

And the Lord said: "Let there be light... and toys."

I have a lot of envy.

There, I said it. For shame I sin. I want to fit in with people. It’s a constant feeling of being an outcast, possibly whipped up by my feelings of being “different” for having a mental illness, that drives me to be a chameleon to become one of the others. It also has a lot to do with my self esteem. “They’ve welcomed me into their fold! I’m loved!”

There’s no other group I’ve wanted to fit in with more than toy collectors, but as it turns out all we have in common is toys. Continue reading

Shock Wave

I guess you can only be so strong for so long. I’ve spent the last month joking about cancer and showing all my friends and loved ones that it’s not a big deal. Not once did I say I’d succumb to it. I was being strong for myself and them. But damn, I find out I’ve beat it and the one moment I relax and lower my shields, a tsunami wave of emotions hit me.

It’s like every fear and worry, every urge to cry or scream from the weight of facing cancer triggered in my mind. I faced cancer and laughed in its face. Now I’m being forced to feel a full month’s worth of avoided feelings in one go. So, I did what felt best, I slept all day.

And I mean ALL DAY. I woke up at 3:14 in the afternoon to use the washroom and then later at 11:04, at which time I had an apple sauce cup. I still feel like I need to just bawl my eyes out. I’ll have to watch It’s a Wonderful Life, my beloved trigger movie.

I went through this cancer thing without any real bipolar problems. But, maybe the shock of it all caused me to go manic enough to coast through such a scary thing with such a lighthearted way. And now, this is the crash. The cancer crash. It’s very familiar of the prolonged manic state that led to my crash and hospitalization almost three years ago. Except this time, I’m not thinking psychotically, I’m just sad and scared. It’s as if I know a nuke is going to go off and wipe out millions and I feel all of their pain, but I don’t know where it’s going to hit and when. It actually feels a lot like the small breakdown I had for 9/11.

So, how does one lift themselves from this? First, I’m just going to sleep. I figure that’s what my body needs, to just die and then be reborn like the phoenix, only with bedhead and eye crusties. Then, I’m going to play some Flower. Do something fun and totally mesmerizing (honestly, this game is a beautiful drug.) And I’m going to remind myself that I did an amazing thing. It’s never easy complimenting yourself, but I’m going to try, even if it feels similar to a creepy old man resting his hand on my upper thigh. And then I’m going to move on. I’m going to write this post and look forward to tomorrow when I can write about other things. Cancer put my life on hold for a month, and now it can continue again and I can write posts about things like the toy show I went to, friends’ betrayals, and why re-watching the shows we loved as kids is a horrible idea. Hell, I’ll even write about why the Triceratops appeals to my bipolar sensibilities.

Okay, I’m back.

Monday Funday: CANCER SPECTACULAR

Seminoma of the Testis

Just Say NO to Seminoma.

(NOTE: This article wasn’t originally posted Monday, but it’s been cooking in my head this week, plus I was celebrating. Shoot me, I don’t care. I can take it. I’m indestructible now.)

Today was results day after having my right nut removed for a lump on it, a CT scan (which is designed with the evil intent of making you feel like you’ve pissed yourself when you haven’t,) and blood work to look for other remnants of cancer. I had a good week and a half to try not to dwell on whether I’ll be celebrating or starting chemotherapy. And the results? I definitely had cancer in that testicle. Seminoma (see the vibrant pic above) Stage 1. All of the other tests were clear.

But, what a nauseating experience. Thank God Julia came with me, but unfortunately she had to suffer the same fate. There’s nothing like a loved one toughing out a doctor’s appointment in the hottest, stuffiest office ever. Even if I was born in the middle of the Sahara, I WOULD WANT SOME FUCKING AIR. I think I squeezed her hand to pulp, but she didn’t say anything – it was probably a good distraction from passing out.

And then my surgeon showed us my CT scan, which is a black and white video of my insides that he reversed and fast forwarded through so many times it was like watching a perv with his favourite porn scene. But way more gross. I can usually watch anything like that. I am embarrassingly desensitized. I sat through a full day’s worth of The Learning Channel’s Real ER Stories-a-thon, eyeball surgery and all. But when you’re dehydrated and blacking out while awaiting the results of your own fate, it loses its appeal.

Alas, I live another day. I SEEM to be free of cancer. There’s a big part of me that was happy it was cancer because if they had removed my nut with a tumor that came back as benign, I’d be pretty bitter and would probably want REVENGE. But, he told me I have the best prognosis with the best cancer one would want. I now have a 99% chance I won’t die of testicular cancer. It can come back. So, I have to do regular surveillance monitoring at the Cancer Agency for the next few years.

Me: So, can I say I beat cancer now?

Him: No, you’re going to have to wait 7 years before you’re fully in the clear.

Fuck that. We’ll compromise:

I PRETTY MUCH JUST BEAT CANCER!

Looking Up From the Bottom

Seesaw

I relate to the boy on the bottom, wishing that crazy imaginary rabbit was 100 pounds heavier.

I was up until 5am last night. What does one who is recovering from surgery in bed do until 5 in the morning? OBSESS. I was worrying about my results on Monday. The urologist will either tell me I’m clear of cancer or I have to take the next step in treatment. So, naturally, I was on my laptop Wiki-ing choice keywords like BENIGN, MALIGNANT, CANCER and ORCHIECTOMY, the surgery I just had. I really loved how this one links directly to CASTRATION, which has a lovely little description some idiot wrote about the graphic details of castration torture used by the French from the Middle-Ages to the French Revolution. A quote: “Standard practice… was to crush the condemned’s testicles in a vise, which burst them as mush from the scrotum, then crunch the spermatic cords with pliers.” Fantastic. And people think Wikipedia isn’t factual enough to stand beside the Encyclopedia Brittanica.

But of course, I took my research further,

Continue reading

The Manic Manipulator

Possibly My Seed

“So, James.”

“Yeah, Dad.”

“I managed to get some funding for your sperm banking.”

“Wha?”

“Yeah, a couple of your aunts have decided to pitch in.”

Okay, yes, I MAY have to get some sperm banked on account of my whole Testicular Cancer thing and YES it would cost $500 now and $150 for yearly “upkeep”, but what’s this? My aunts?

Continue reading

Cancer What

Bedside Cancer Remedies

I missed the Monday Funday post, and when I say “missed” I mean I yearned for it. It was like being a kid in December again and I went to open the little cardboard window on my advent calendar, but there was no chocolate. Then I started ripping open all the other windows: 14, 15, 16, nothing, nothing , nothing, 22, 23, 24, and I heard laughter and the smacking of chocolaty lips behind me and I spun around to see who has taken the fun out of my month… and it’s Cancer.

Yeah, I was diagnosed with testicular cancer at the beginning of the month. You can prepare yourself better for an earthquake. I always thought of cancer as the disease that sneaks up on you in your later years just as you’re about to go on that retirement boat trip around the world. I’m 27. I haven’t even had the luxury of thinking about retirement, and here it is threatening to be taken away from me.

Continue reading

Not a Robot

Robot Angry

Sometimes I just feel numb.

I used to feel this way a lot when I was first put on my cocktail of lithium, Seroquel and Lamictal. I was slow to react and all my emotions had packed up and left. The only one that remained was worry – I’d never feel again.

Of course, the feelings come back. Meds don’t cut them off forever. Those who feel the med-numbage need not worry. You will be able to love and feel creativity again. It just takes a bit of time (how long? Six months for me. But, everyone’s different.) Think of the process like rebooting your computer. Sometimes the screen comes up and you’re STILL waiting for everything to load up. The more you bang away on the keyboard and wave the mouse around, the more it freezes up. So, just ride it out.

That always seems to be the saying for coping with bipolar: Just ride the waves. Yes, the mood changes are like waves and, yes, the only thing you can do is ride them out, but damn,

Continue reading

Monday Funday, #46: RAINBOWS

Today, we begin the Monday Funday series. Mondays suck, so I will discuss one of the many things that makes me happy. Think of it as a blogtastic antidepressant. (This is gonna help me, too, since last week was spent dwelling on how much I and my future suck. It was like being locked in a room with High School Musical and a rusty spoon.)

Today’s topic:

#46 RAINBOWS

Yes, rainbows. Though this is as cheesy a choice as #22: SUNSHINE and #1: LOVE, it is the absolute truth that you cannot look at a rainbow without feeling happier than you were when you were not looking at it.

Perhaps you were driving your car or walking home from the grocery store. It’s been cloudy for the last week and you’re either thinking about how much gas went up or how all the junk food you bought is going to go to your hips.

Enter: RAINBOW. Some people are smiling and pointing at you. Whoops, not at you, you deduce after the awkward wave back. You turn around and there’s a vibrant, thick rainbow arching across the sky. A little bit of sun is out and it’s misting just light enough to feel magical. Contrasting against the dark sky, each colour band is bold and bright. All of them are there, the whole ROY G BIV they taught you in grade school. You remember those times, too. The rainbow stamp your grade 2 teacher put on your “AWESOME!” drawings. Maybe your kindergarten class had “R IS FOR RAINBOW” on the alphabet banner that hung above the chalkboard. And the Fisher Price xylophone, each key from red to violet.

This is a RAINBOW. They usually come as one, but sometimes appear in pairs. (Those who see interlocking rainbows should make a wish. It will come true. Try world peace next time.) You may decide to follow your rainbow to where it meets the ground. You may take a picture or ponder leprechauns. Or you may just sit there agape, parked at a green light. Well, let them honk. You’re witnessing one of those little things that randomly enter this world with the only purpose of making us happy. Soak it in, and smile for #46, the RAINBOW.