Warning: Most of this entry is me dealing with a moral issue and not the fact that I had my central line out today. This entry was written for the sole purpose of helping me work through some issues and is not directed at any individual or group. I'm very sad at the situation that has come up and I need to deal with it, or at the very least get it off my chest.
There are times that I hate the written word. I hated English class because I believed it to be an educational farce. I could read, I could write, but what I didn't appreciate was trying to pull the proper meaning from a story based on the teacher's point of view. I even wrote an essay that criticized the content and marking style of my English class in grade 12 ( I got an A by the way for that paper). Ironically, OAC English was the highest mark I ever received in my entire academic career. Interesting how I can be talented at something I despise.
I guess I went into my journal writing to provide a voice for my soul. I put it on the internet so that my story could help another cancer patient get through his or her day, knowing that someone else has traveled that same road and lived to tell about it. I needed to be true to myself, and capture the passion of the moment in all of it's glory or ugliness. That sometimes meant a swear word or two. Tonight I got a taste of how my words affect other people.
I know I offended someone with my words. They have written me and told me so. So what do I do? I've never met this person so I could simply ignore the complaint and go on my merry way. If I had the ability to do that there would be no need for this journal entry at all. But I can't, and that's the basis for the whole reason I'm up and bothered at 1:30 in the morning.
I once read a poster in my grade 4 French room (with Mr. Garside for those of you from Winona Public......une, duex, troix, SOTE!!!!!) that had a quote on it that has always been a part of my life. I'm going to have to paraphrase here because I don't recall the exact words.
"Swearing is the act of an ignorant mind trying to convey an intelligent thought"
It went something like that. In a nutshell, I suppose it would mean that if you take the time, and think before you speak, swear words are not necessary. I believe this with all of my heart, but there are several problems with this theory.
1. Life sucks sometimes. I've had some days in the past three months that could only be described by the F word repeated over and over and over again. I spent most of Tuesday wishing I was dead in between vomit sessions so if that doesn't call for a huge F@#$, I don't know what does. I've also been writing with a one draft concept. If it hits the screen, it stays in the journal. And for those bad days that I had I offer no apology to the content in this journal. I wanted to capture my true feelings, and some of those feelings were darker than I've ever felt. I could probably go through and edit out the swear words in this journal but it would lose something very important if I did. Cancer does horrible things to the body, and I can think of no better a disease to swear at then that.
2. The second problem is that there are a large vocabulary of words some consider quite offensive while I consider them to be rather benign, if used in the right context It's like certain hand gestures mean different things in different in different countries. All I can remember is that you never make the peace sign in England. I believe that the OK sign in certain cultures represents a particular orifice at the end of the large intestine. Anyway, I never realized until tonight that what I consider inoffensive may bother some people. I always thought I was a minimalist when it came to swearing. In fact, at one point I could stop a room silent if I swore because nobody expected that from me. I certainly don't try to use the BIG FOUR LETTER WORDS in everyday conversation but I never stopped to think about those words that fall into the gray area. You know the ones I'm talking about. We've all giggled at one point or another in our lives while looking up these words in the dictionary. Then to our shock and alarm, we realized that the "But it's in the dictionary!!!!" excuse didn't fly too far with the parents. Well, it looks like I'm guilty again, but this time it means something different, something more important.
I believe in this journal. I believe that it is helping me, and I believe that this journal is helping others deal with the daily garbage of cancer and survivorship. I owed the cancer community a huge debt, and this is how I felt I could best repay that debt at the time. I've only ever seen positive emails about my site, and this is the first time someone said anything to the contrary. So now this is why I'm stuck. This is why I'm still not in bed at 2:16 in the morning. How do I vent my anger, my disappointment, my pain and be true to how I'm feeling without alienating some of my audience. Like I've said before, I've been through days that made me dream of dying. I may have received my highest marks in English class, but I know of no other way to describe the road I've been down (and still travel) than with the words I chose.
I wish that I could keep this journal a little cleaner. My daughters will read this one day, and I want them to be able to know what their dad went through without having to put this journal on the shelf until they're ready. However, I cannot in good conscious describe Tuesday's vomit session as simply "unpleasant". there were days when I went straight to the computer after cleaning the puke of myself in order to catch the mood. I have to continue to write what I feel to be true to my feelings, and if that means a swear word or two, well then I can't apologize. I am however going to make a strong effort to get rid of the casual swearing that I'm sometimes guilty of typing. I have never meant to do anything with this journal but help, and I hope that those of you out there who read this will understand when they see an inappropriate word or two.
I think I'm done with the venting. As for the central line, well he and I have parted ways. My central line now sits on my kitchen counter in a bio-hazard bag. I had to keep it because it was in my body so long it became a part of me. I've actually caught myself reaching for it even though it's not there. I guess I really liked playing with it but I'm not sad to see it go. The cats kept playing with it at night when I slept, and the babies kept ramming their heads into the plastic clips on my line. This is very helpful when you're trying to calm them down at night. Nothing says calm and peaceful like banging your head into a sharp plastic clamp. (Maybe that's why Caity has better luck calming them down).
The line removal went a bit slow since my muscles were too big (I swear to God, the doctor said that....ask Caity she was there!!!!). He kept pulling out the scissors and scalpel to cut me deeper and deeper in an effort to get past my huge neck muscles and get at the line. I wish I could describe the moment he pulled the tube out. They had me focus on my breathing and on the third breath the nurse hauled up on the head rest causing me to get to almost a sitting position. At the same time the doctor did a "Lawnmower pull" and out it came. Think of a foot long tube coming out of your body real, real fast and imagine what that feels like. Even with the freezing there was still a lot of sensation when the tube came out. They also had to make another incision in my upper chest to get at the mechanism that locks to your tissues. I've explained it before, but I'll rehash to save you from trying to find the date that I talked about it. My central line was tunneled, meaning the tube came over my collarbone, and went under the skin about four inches towards my right nipple to reduce the chances of the line being pulled out. They add a device that allowed my tissue to grow around it and lock it in place to make it even safer. I guess there was a lot of tissue on the piece since he cut and snipped for what seemed to be an eternity to remove the piece. After that bit was removed it was basically pull and your done. It was ten times better than the line going in for those who are wondering. For those of you with a tunneled central line, it is a hell of a lot better coming out, trust me. My shoulder is sore and stiff, but other than that the healing process so far has been much better than when the line went in.
I have one more apology to make before I go to bed. This goes out to Jennifer McAllister(Morrison) who made me the fantastic necklace that supported my central line for almost 2 months. I'm sorry, but I have to put it away with the central line pieces. That necklace replaced the white medical string that the hospital provides and helped me downplay the "medical look" of the central line. I may have looked like a guy with cancer, but I felt a little more normal while I wore it. Jen, I love you with all of my heart, I'm looking forward to seeing you soon if your trip is still on, and I'm sorry that all of your hard work has to get filed away in my scrapbook pile. As normal as it made me feel, it became a part of my central line, and as a result needs to be put away so that I can move on.
Thanks for letting me ramble tonight. I had no intention of offending anyone tonight or ever with this little website . In fact most of this entry was centered around the fact that I did offend someone, and was feeling a lot of guilt for it. I learned a lot from the email I received tonight, and I thank the writer (you know who you are). You made me examine a lot of different aspects of my life, good and bad, and that's a great and appropriate 30th birthday present for me. I can't promise that I'll kill the swearing here, but I will try to remember that while this website is mine to do with as I wish, my outgoing emails need to have better attention to editing. I cannot simply blast off emails using the same language I use here without considering the recipient.
And about that "I'm so great at English" stuff I mentioned at the top of the entry. Yes, I am that DARN good and Yes I really think compulsory English in Highschool is a waste of time. I'm sorry to all the highschool English teachers I just offended. Wait a minute....no I'm not.
Night night
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