I am so profoundly proud of the people who come searching for my blog. People across the planet sit down at their computers, possibly unzipping their pants for a moment and then typing such things as today’s oddities:

Search Views
go to hell hats 1
gangsta whores 1
boob squisher 1
british guy standing in the park 1
crackhead monopoly game 1
crackwhore phone numbers 1

What???? I guess its always inevidible that I will have the word “Crackhead whore” in my internet Googles, you know, since my life is so obviously awash in debauchery and British men. (Where??) Although sorry to disappoint. About the only action I get is when Guardcat jumps up on my chest, blocks the TV screen  with her big furry ass and  then tries to give me slobbery cat kisses.

The drama of my last blog entry has calmed down somewhat. I did have a somewhat fun visit to the local hospital. It was a planned visit. I was to get what they call fidicial markers clamped to the cancer thingie in my lung so they can eventually direct the radiation treatment to the exact location it needs to go and not wipe out any healthy parts. Right doctors???

Since the hospital call was so early,  I decided not to bother anyone and make actual use of a Medicaid cab for the 7 a.m. appointment. The hospital is a mere 20 minutes away but for some reason the cab company wanted to pick me up at 6:15 a.m. Ok. Whatever. Better to err on the early side, I guess. So I set my clock for 5:45. Basically all I had to do was get up, put my clothes on, feed Guardcat and walk out to the front for the cab.

5:44 a.m.: Riiiiinnnnnggggggg!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! “Hi, it Dependable Cab Company. We’re here to pick up a wittykitty for the hospital….”

Me (Still in bed): What???????????????????

Dependable Cab Company: “We’re out in the parking lot….Waiting. ”

Me: “But you’re a half hour early. I just woke up. ”

Dependable Cab Company: “Sorry M’aam. We’ll wait.”

Me: Ahhhhhhh!!!!! (me jumping out of bed, running around insanely, probably dropkicking Guardcat over the coffee table.  And worst of all, I was unable to find the keys to my apartment. I mean I NEVER lose my keys. Ever! I finally had to make the somewhat nerve-wracking decision to leave my apartment unlocked since I live in a pretty safe area and what the heck, I’d be home in about 5 hours!! Right?*)

*Ha ha ha. Oh wittykitty. You so silly.

So I got to the damn hospital at 6:15, 45 minutes early, or as it turned out….an hour and 45 minutes early. I know I wrote it down correctly, but the nurse said I wasn’t due til 8 a.m. So I just laid in a hospital bed and listened to some really loud obnoxious women talking to their apparently deaf mother in the next bed.  

They finally put an IV in my hand and then lots of nurses came in and out talking to me about what was going to happen. And then some lady from the American Cancer Society came in. As we were talking she seemed OK, but then she got this really weird look on her face. It was kinda like this…

Apparently, I had laid against my IV and dislodged it and my entire hand was dripping in blood and there was blood all down the front of my hospital nightie and all over the sheets. In other words, it was like the scary part of horror movie, “Saw Part 12”. Yay me!

They did clean me up before the procedure. This one actually hurt a lot more than my cancer biopsy a month ago. Lets see…maybe because I knocked the IV out, and wasn’t quite medicated enough? Ya think?

They kept me on a stretcher in the hospital room, I guess for good reason. Why? Because apparently Mr. Doctor Guy punctured my lung causing it to partially collapse during the procedure and then I had to keep going back downstairs to get x-rays.

When I was telling my artist friend Professional Artist Guy this story he came up with the best and most calming explanation I could ever hope to hear. He said, “You’re getting all the bad stuff out of the way first, so you can have all the good stuff happen later.” I could have just hugged him for that, because when you’re in the middle of all these seemingly insurmountable things and you’re just barely handling things, its nice to hear that good things are on the way.

So I unexpectedly ended up spending the night in the hospital that night, since I didn’t have anyone at home to keep an eye on me and my partially collapsed lung. And so it was just me and some Filippino nurse who came in and did a lengthy rave about how prejudice white people are about Filipinos. Oh, if she only knew how I felt about them myself.

Anyways, the next morning I went down for yet another x-ray and my lung was still partially collapsed but they decided to release me since it hadn’t changed (gotten worse). Naturally my Medicaid cab had canceled itself the day before. I called my mom from the nurses’ station but she was in terrible pain and couldn’t come. My aunt was having a luncheon. shit! Who could I call? And then I thought about Charlemagne. He had thoughtfully left me with an open offer for medical rides (he likes flowers too-ha ha, inside joke), so I called him and since he lives near the hospital, he was there within a half hour or so.

Almost as soon as I got into his car he asked if I liked Run DMC. I really don’t know their music other than it being rap. So I said, great! And since it was such a nice Autumn day we rode through the university area blasting RUN DMC being total bad asses. I really needed some fun and that quite possibly is Charlemagne’s middle name.

Since then, its been a mad whirl of either doctor appointments or art shows. The Saturday after the lung puncture thing I went to my favorite Goth/Big Boobed Women/Monsters/Alien Art show. I was pretty worried because the dive bar where the show was, allowed smoking that night. And I knew it and my friend Sci Fi Guy felt bad about it, but its a tradition, and I knew my risks. The first hour wasn’t bad. I’d step outside to get a breath of fresh air when needed, but by the second hour I felt pretty queasy, so I finally left. But my artwork for the show did garner some funny comments. It was called: “My mother was a Serial Killer Super Model”.

 See what happens when you stop going to therapy.

And then I had another art show at the premiere art gallery in town. I had submitted a piece to this local organization back in July and they had accepted it to be published in this book called “Unique”. And then they had an opening. It was the same night I was supposed to co-host with Charlemagne, so I had to miss my hosting duties. And I felt pretty tired. Too tired perhaps to do much Schmoozing.

And then my art class had our annual Halloween party last week, during which weirdness ensued of course, since artists are known for weirdness. I mean we eat weirdness with bologna on rye.  Sci Fi Guy and Johnson brought in a bunch of weird creepy props in for maximum weirdness, so people were scooping chipote dip out of skulls, chatting with skeletons and then there was the weird chick looking for a new photo to put on…

Someone rudely speculated that it looked like I had a penis. Oh dear! Definitely not. I WANT one. But not attached to me. Oy! Guess I was just really showing off my weight loss. That’s one phrase I haven’t gotten sick of hearing, “Wow, you’ve really been losing weight.”

I’ve finally just stopped using my not-so-funny “Yeah, its the lung-cancer diet” Ha ha ha ha ha. For some reason that joke has just been totally tanking. Oh well. Some people just don’t have a sense of humor.


13 Responses to “breathless”

  1. crankygirl Says:

    Wow–that sounds exhausting. I hope you’ve gotten all the bad out of the way now.

  2. artgnome Says:

    ok, please don’t squeeze my nostril and I love that pic of you because you look like you are really having fun! 🙂 keeping you, your lungs and your future IV’s in prayer xo

  3. Lisa Says:

    “british guy standing in the park” holy shit that cracks me up lol. Thanks for finally updating! 🙂

  4. DanjerusKurves Says:

    O.M.G. I want that serial killer mama painting!!!!!! Dear sweet hayzoos, if only I had the money … And you DO look fabulous, but please stop sending me your extranneous weight.

  5. poolagirl Says:

    You look fab in that photo! I hope you are feeling better, sweetie. Thinking of you every day!

  6. Abigale Berwager Says:

    I just wanted to say I really love your writing style, and you seem to find humor and light in even the darkest situations. Great painting too, by the way. I look forward to reading your next entry!

  7. Anna Says:

    Unspeakably gorgeous xxxx

  8. SJAT Says:

    Heya Witty. Very nice photo. I sympathise entirely with the lung thing. A couple of years ago my dad went into hospital to have a wisdom tooth removed and ended up with a collapsed lung and almost dead of pneumonia! He’s nearly fully healthy now, and sometime soon, so will you be. Get well, and feel all the healing power of the weird English guy flowing your way…

  9. scotvalkyrie Says:

    I didn’t realize that Crackwhores had their own phone directory. I thought they just played their crackpipes to communicate.

  10. Bluey Says:

    You’re so talented and funny and cute and…wow! Go, witty! I want to give Charlemagne a hug myself for the run DMC thing. That’s exactly the sort of thing that I would do. Love it!

  11. Kungfukitten Says:

    That’s a great picture but you are getting too thin – I can totally count your ribs. Ha ha, well I thought it was kinda funny. I get happily exhausted reading your posts! You’re so busy and doing so many art shows. It’s nice seeing you get so much recognition. Next you will start getting thousands of dollars for doodles on a napkin. I think it would be in your best interest to have an affair with a rock star. Or a British guy in a park.

  12. LA Says:

    Blowing kisses your way. ~LA

  13. stepfordtart Says:

    Sorry its taken me so long to get over here and send you bucket loads of good wishes and hugs and “fucking hell why cant you just live a bit NEARER?”s . Stay away from British guys. Look what they’ve done to me and Anna. s x

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