Conspiracy Theories

I don't want to alarm anyone, but I'm pretty sure that my iPod became self-aware this morning.


I had it on random shuffle mode and the songs it played were all shockingly similar in theme. I'm pretty sure it's trying to tell me something, but I'm not sure what.

It played:
I Will Survive - the Cake version.
I thought: Hmm, okay. Cake's version is even more blase and peevish than the original, so I can dig it.

I Will Survive - Gloria Gaynor
Hmm, that's odd. What are the chances? Strange.

I Won't Back Down - Tom Petty
This is getting a little weird.

I'm Still Standin' - Elton John
WTF?

If I Fall (You're Goin' Down With Me) - Dixie Chicks
OMG, I think I need to go home and not handle any sharp objects today.

But no, I didn't do that. I'm here at work, waiting to see what kind of trouble will find me today. I'm thinking positively, as always, but still... bracing for something. The iPod has spoken!

Speaking of crazy conspiracy theories, there are a few things that I've been wondering about lately, and I thought I'd just throw them out there and see what you guys thought. I'm not usually someone who thinks everything means something, and I definitely don't subscribe to the whole 2012: world coming to an end thing. But still.

What's up with all the UFOs?

Last week, there was yet another UFO sighting in Colorado. According to ABC News, last week hundreds of residents in the town of Lafayette, CO witnessed a strange triangular formation of red lights hovering soundlessly over their homes. In fact, they even got video of them:



Last October, mysterious objects were seen over one of the most heavily-monitored air spaces in the world: the island of Manhattan. Countless people saw the strange objects, yet the authorities couldn't offer any explanation of what they were and the whole thing seemed to be quietly swept under the rug. This website would have you believe that there are several UFO sightings every single week, including one over Tsunami-ravaged Fukushima, Japan just last week.

Humans: always the last to know

I've blogged before about this year's strange fish kills and birds falling out of the sky, dead. It's a documented fact that animals know things before we lowly humans get the memo, so what microscopic natural cues are the world's creatures responding to?



Radiation from Japan

They say that the gradual melt-down of the nuclear power plant in Japan won't cause long-term health effects for those of us living here on Earth. I call bullshit.



I'm no nuclear physicist. Nope -- I'm just a caveman. But one thing I do have experience with is a little something called I-131 radiation, which is one of the main kinds of radiation that's being released by the bucket-load into the water and air around Japan right this very moment.

You see, about ten years ago I came down with a bad case of thyroid cancer, and after having a rather huge surgery to remove the damaged gland and the effected lymph nodes, the next thing they do to you is nuke the bejeezus out of you in an attempt to kill the rest of the disease.

Guess what they use to destroy any last traces of thyroid cells in your body? I-131 radiation, that's what. Now, when I took my large dose of radioactive iodine, this is how it went down:

I went to the hospital and the radiation oncologists came in wearing a space suit and mask, towing behind them a little metal wagon with a locked metal box on top. Once they quizzed me about what I'd had to eat that day (nothing) and whether or not I felt the least bit queasy (a deal-breaker, as vomiting after taking the pill would qualify as a "nuclear spill" and require a HazMat team) I was instructed to open the metal box and take the little horse pill inside. No one else would touch the pill.

Once I took it, I stayed in a locked, plastic-wrapped hospital room for four days until the radiation levels dissipated enough that I could safely walk among the general public again. Even after I left the hospital I was instructed to stay home for 3-4 more days, stay far away from children and pregnant women, eat off of plastic utensils and plates, and flush the toilet several times after using it... so that my pee wouldn't corrode the pipes.

That was 250 nuclear units. How much of that stuff is being released into the atmosphere in Japan? Enough so that I-131 was detected in rain water in Boston last week, that's how much.

If that's not enough to make us look into green energy, what is?

Okay, those are mine. What do you think? Is it time to bust out the tinfoil hats or what?

Random is my MIDDLE name

Happy Tuesday!  How are you all today?  I'm groovy.  I'm just pluggin' along at work.  I've decided to do a good old-fashioned random blathering kind of post.  Why?  Why not, that's why.


It's 1-11-11 today.  Not that it means anything (to me, anyway), but it's still kinda cool.  Do we get to make a wish or something?

Is it me, or is EVERYONE in Hollywood pregnant right now?  Every day there's another report of a knocked-up starlet.

Natalie Portman (who apparently got biz with her mute ballerino costar from Black Swan).

Victoria Beckham, who is evidently trying to populate the world with handsome, mouse-voiced hottie soccer stars.  Now that's a project I can get on board with! 

Owen Wilson put a smoosh-nosed baby inside his girlfriend.

Jane Krakowski is pregnant but her 30 Rock character is not, which is a good thing because the idea of a pregnant Jenna scares me a bit.

Marion Cotillard and her French boyfriend have produced a beret-wearing, chain-smoking, wine-guzzling French fetus.  Oui!


One of the Kardashian assholes might be knocked up, but as part of my New Year's resolution I refuse to put up her picture or mention her by name.  I am shunning all things Kardashian and Jersey Shore; every time I find myself watching them I get irritated that they are rich and famous for doing absolutely NOTHING, so I've decided that watching them bad for my mental health.

In other news, I'm oddly pleased that Gwyneth Paltrow is flopping terribly in Country Strong.  I have not heard her sing, nor will I listen to any clips of her singing.  I don't want to know if she's a talented singer.  DO NOT WANT.


Michael Douglas beat his throat cancer!

YAHOO!  I don't care who it is, any time I hear that someone kicked cancer's sorry ass it's a WIN.  I fucking hate cancer, and Mike D. is okay by me.  He'll always be Jack "Trustworthy" Colton to me.

Turns out, 'Mericans don't want to watch Sarah Palin kill things.  Thank GOD.

Canceled!

My faith in the U.S. viewing public has been somewhat restored.

Cake releases their new album, Showroom of Compassion today.  Yay!

Nice auras.

We're expecting a big snow storm tonight, so hopefully tomorrow will find me sitting at home in pajamas with my kiddos while my husband hits the slopes.  I love it when a snow day coincides with my already-scheduled day off!  I find I don't dread storms at all when I don't have to drive anywhere and I've already received clearance to sit on my ass and do nothing.  Sweet, beautiful nothing.  Ahhhhh.

 After work I'm swinging by B&N to pick up this book, which I've heard is a great read even though it's technically Young Adult.  Hey, I'm down with YA!  No shame.  Good writing is good writing.

So that's enough random poo for one day.  Got anything on your minds?  Lay it on me!

OOBH Stew: 'the case of the missing belly button' Edition

Greetings, my lovelies! We made it to another Friday! Yay, us! Hope you've all got fun weekends lined up. Let's line your stomachs with some filling, enriched-with-grooviness stew, shall we?

Remember MySpace?

Holy Taco wrote a great post about the wasteland that is MySpace.



My favorite part:

"But now that most of your friends have probably moved on to other social networking sites, your friends list will probably feel like the town you grew up in…after a zombie apocalypse has killed everybody you knew and loved. Navigating from page to page feels like wandering from one empty, dusty, dilapidated house to another, while occasionally catching glimpses of comments and blog posts that-- like a wrist watch after an EMP blast – give the entire page this weird frozen-in-time sensation, making it all feel a little eerie."

I have to agree. I went back there a few months ago after not visiting my MySpace page in several years. This description is dead-on accurate! After spending about two minutes on the site I respectfully requested that Tom cancel my account. It's okay though; we agreed that we'd still be friends. Just friends who never see or speak to each other, ever. It's all good.

In my world, good neighbors leave me the hell alone.

This State Farm commercial makes me giggle:

J-WTF?

This is Jenni "J-Woww" Farley from that crap show (that I don't watch but still know way more than I should know about it because the media keeps cramming it down my throat), The Jersey Shore. She's posing for Maxim and... well, the photoshoppers over at Maxim must have had a field day with this one.



First of all, where's her belly button? Secondly, is she wetting herself? Third, why is she gnawing on her knuckle? So many questions.

It's just a shame they couldn't do a thing about her butterface. You can see all of the pics over at Celebitchy.

Whoopie was drunk and/or high on The Spew View this week.

I like Whoopie. She seems like fun.

Of course, I'd have to be drunk to even WATCH that crap, so who can blame her?

Ya' know what's absolutely fabulous? Kicking breast cancer's sorry ASS.

I just want to send out a big HURRAH and a "Cheers, darling" to Jennifer Saunders (above, left), who has been given the all-clear after having surgery, chemo, and radiation for breast cancer. I have always been a big fan of her comedy, and I wish her a speedy recovery and ZERO recurrences!

Also, as a reminder - The Bev loves boobs. Girls, feel yourself up for me this weekend, won't you? Early detection is half the battle!

On that note, I'll bid you all farewell. Enjoy your weekends!
*kiss, kiss*

Out with the Dong, in with the Ozzy

I fired my Endocrinologist this morning. He had it coming, and it felt really good to cancel that appointment and tell his secretary that I would be finding a new physician. Not only did his bizarre, inappropriate flirting make me uncomfortable, but last time we met he was pushing me to get more radiation for whatever minuscule traces of thyroid cancer might be left in my neck, which I refuse to do. I've been there, done that, thank you very much.

Ten years ago I endured what I jokingly refer to as "The Silkwood Experience." I was 24 years old and the doctors brought in the poison pill on a little metal cart. No one would touch it, but I was about to pick it up and eat it. After I ingested it they all peered at me for a few minutes to make sure I wasn't going to hork it back up, which would have been classified as a chemical spill and would have shut down the entire wing of the hospital. Fabulous! No pressure.

I was in a plastic-lined room in the hospital for almost five days, glowing from the inside out. I was instructed to flush the toilet three times after using it so I wouldn't corrode the hospital pipes with my contaminated pee. The nurses would open the door, slide food inside the room, and quickly shut it again. The garbage piled up and began to smell by day three.... After the second day a dude in a bright yellow Hazmat suit came into the room and stood 10 feet away from me. He'd aim a Geiger counter at me and that's how they determined when it was safe for me to leave and be out among the general public again. It was a pretty fucking terrible experience, overall, and one that I'm not anxious to repeat.

Dr. Duck Dong refused to listen when I told him that my other doctors agreed that more radiation would do more harm than good in my case, and I refused to be bullied. Hence, we reached a stalemate three months ago when I cried into his lab coat as he insisted that radiation was not nearly as bad now as it was ten years ago... and he enjoyed comforting me just a trifle too much. We agreed to do blood work in three months, but over these past months I've gotten more and more angry that he was so insistent on the "standard course of treatment" even though my particular case has been anything but standard since day 1, which was nearly 11 years ago.

Eleven years. I have been dealing with this "garden variety" cancer for almost 11 years. What a pain in the ass.

So I'm finding a new doctor, one who listens to me and takes ME and MY BODY into account instead of spouting what the AMA says. I'm quitting Dr. Dong, but will remain vigilant about my own well-being, as always. For goodness sake, I'm still struggling to get my voice back - the last thing I want to do is nuke my throat some more!

Suck it, Dr. Dong!

In other news, I heard some killer Sabbath on the radio this morning and it put me in a great mood! I know it's weird, but I have a total soft spot for Ozzy. I like many different kinds of music; you all know I refuse to pigeon-hole my musical preferences. If I like the song, I don't care what genre it's in, I just like the song. And I like "Sweet Leaf," goddamn it.

"Shut up, and listen to the Ozzy."


Quick funny about an Ozzy tune, and then I'm outtie: when I went to the hospital to have my second darling son, Mala took D for the night. Apparently they were rocking out to some Ozzy that morning, because as I was sitting there holding my newborn I heard my oldest son coming down the hallway singing, "Ay Ay Ay Ay!" I recognized it instantly, well before he busted into the room with, "Comin' off the rails on a crazy traaaaaa-iiin!"

See? Hospital settings can provide good memories, too.

So there's that. Have a groovy day.
xoxo

Speak for yourself

'Cause I sure can't!

Sad Clown Warning! Proceed with caution.



Day 9 after having surgery and I am still sans voix. Well, I shouldn't say completely sans; I have a sort of raspy laryngitis-sounding whisper going on. It's not at all the Kathleen Turner-sexy voice that I was hoping for when they told me that a rare potential complication of my surgery is damage to the vocal cords. In fact, this isn't sexy at all - it kinda sucks and I'm getting darn sick of it.

I'm not a quiet person; I have a quick wit and love to crack jokes and I just love to talk, in general. Although I'm not a good singer I do it all the time - I sing along with the car radio, I sing in the shower, I do karaoke for the comic value alone, I sing with my family when we play Rock Band. Not being able to sing "Twinkle Twinkle" with my son or "Happy Birthday" to my husband is really cramping my style.



Will this be the event that finally sends me crying to my doctor, begging to be medicated? I thought I might need something after my dad died last May, but I managed to pull myself out of that emotional nosedive over these past 8 months. Then my cancer came back, but I still did okay - I am an optimist! I keep my chin up. I show weakness only to my inner circle of confidantes and even then, sparingly. Nobody needs a buzzkill friend when they've all got their own problems, after all.

But this, well. This is just BULLSHIT. This is just a clear-cut case of insult being added to injury. The good news is that my scar looks great! It's healing fast and honestly, I'm just so pleased with how it looks. The bad news is that sometime during the 90 minutes that I was under anesthesia, my left vocal cord went all prima donna on us and is now paralyzed.

My ENT confirmed the left vocal cord paralysis on Tuesday, which was a super fun experience, lemme tell ya. First he had me stick out my tongue as far as I could so he could grab it with gauze and hold it there, then he stuck a mirrored scope down my throat until my gag reflex kicked in (hey fellas, wussup) while I did my best to say, "heeeeeeeeeee." The doctor's defeated-sounding, "Huh," told me everything I needed to know.

I hate it when doctors say, "huh."

"Great news! We got all the cancer out! Bad news - now you're partially mute."

He wants to see me again in 3 weeks to check on them. There's a very good chance that the paralysis will spontaneously resolve on its own, so that is the hope I hang my hat on every day. I don't even want to think about what happens if they don't bounce back.

I'm finding myself saying no to plans with friends because it's just too much effort to be heard, and I'm embarrassed that every time I open my mouth I sound exactly like what I've never wanted to feel like: a sick person. I feel fine! I am fine!

A couple of interesting facts about having no voice:

1. even though I tell people that I can't talk they're still shocked when they call me (!) and can't hear me.

2. People tend to whisper back to me in conversations, which I find funny. Conversely, they yell at me or exaggerate their words. There's nothing wrong with my hearing, folks, so no need to shout!

3. Everyone from the check-out girl to every coworker in my office looks at me like I've sprouted a second head when I croak at them, which means that I spend a lot of time explaining my hoarseness. Well, I don't explain, really, I just mumble something about having been sick or having a problem with my voice until they leave me alone. But still, annoying!



It's amazing how quickly my children have adjusted to my little problem. Even my 2 year old knows that he has to come close to me if he wants to hear the answer to one of his questions. My 6 year old does the same thing, even going so far as to repeat my quiet responses to my husband for me like some kind of human megaphone. My husband is learning - slowly - that he cannot toss a question over his shoulder as he walks out of the room and expect me to call out the answer. Deafening silence is a good teacher, apparently.

So, that's where I am today. I'm getting used to being a low-talker for the time being, maybe forever (but I refuse to believe that). I'm trying not to feel sorry for myself and am succeeding most of the time, and one of these days I'm going to talk someone into wearing a puffy shirt on national television and it will make it all worthwhile.

Well, at least that's what television has taught me.

There, that fulfills my monthly quota for bitching & moaning, I presume. I promise to have something more entertaining for you tomorrow!

Quietly yours,
B

Back on the chain gang

Hello, you sexy little dollops of chocolate, you! I wanna eat you all up, and that's not pain meds talking either 'cause I'm finally off the smack! I'm pain-free and therefore back at work where the only pain I encounter is of the emotional variety. I'm rockin' a trendy neck scarf and feeling pretty sassy considering 6 days ago someone stuck a scalpel in my neck. I still can't talk much, but I'm using that to my advantage at work! The stitches come out tomorrow -- yay!

How are you all doing, my peeps? I hope to get around to all of your blogs today and catch up on the goings-on in Blogland. I've been out of the loop, for realz. I spent five days at home recovering last week; I watched five, no, six movies and didn't like a damn one. I ate ice cream every day and didn't weigh myself once. I took my pain medicine and unapologetically enjoyed the buzz. I slept when I was tired and ate when I was hungry, and I let my husband deal with the children as much as possible. All in all, aside from the pain, the wound, and the fact that I couldn't speak, it was like a little vacay. Sort of. You know, a pain-filled vacay in which you don't leave your house.

*sigh* I need to take a real vacation, clearly.

Anywhooooo. Yesterday I felt better so I stepped up to my wifely duties and made J a birthday cake. OMFG, it had been a while since I'd baked so I forgot that I am capable of creating the most amazing cake EVER!!!! Here's the recipe for those inclined to bake. It's a-freaking-mazing. I'm not kidding - this is the best chocolate cake you'll ever taste. I made the frosting that goes with it and together they are like eating a slice of moist, delicious heaven.

Other than that, I don't have a lot to report. I caught only the first few moments of last night's Grammy Awards, which was enough to see my girl Lady Gaga blow the doors off the place during her performance with Sir Elton John. LOVE. :)

Oh, and don't be hatin' on her outfits, because I think she looked like a living, walking piece of art and you know I dig it:



Magnifique!

Also magnifique:



Such talent and beauty - it's inspiring!

Right now I'm inspired to take a nap, but I can't because I'm back on the job. Boooooo. Oh well, I'll muddle through, and so will you. We'll get through this Monday together, won't we? The Bev has got your back.

A pain in the neck!

Good morning, friends!

Sorry I've been a bit MIA, but as some of you know I've had a challenging week, health-wise. I didn't mention anything before because I like to keep this a happy place, but now that this unpleasant business is behind me (again) I feel comfortable talking about it openly.

I'm a cancer survivor - again!



I was 24 ten years ago when I was diagnosed with papillary thyroid cancer. Because my disease had spread thoroughly throughout the lymph nodes of my neck, I had a bunch of very unpleasant surgeries and a huge dose of full body I-131 radiation which I refer to as "The Silkwood Experience." It was horrible, and none of it got rid of my illness 100%. Even though my type of cancer is considered one of the better ones to get because it is slow-growing, my particular cancer was aggressive.

Six or seven (I honestly stopped counting) painful surgeries (including two modified neck dissections - ew, right?) later, I was as done as I could be. My TG level never went to zero as it should have which meant that there were still some microscopic cells left in there that we couldn't find surgically or via imaging scans, and which were resistant to radiation. Good times.

So, I went on with my life and we waited for them to grow large enough to find. In those eight years I got married, bought a house, had two healthy babies, raised a dog, and changed jobs twice. And I had a good time doing it all! I went in for my blood work every six months and had my MRI/CT/PET scans every year as needed. I basically just went on living but knew that eventually the thyca would rear its ugly head and I'd have to have it taken care of when it did.

Last November, we found it! My blood level doubled and a routine ultrasound of my neck showed what the lab tech called a "non-worrisome cyst." Of course, I laughed when I got the report - there's no such thing as a non-worrisome cyst in MY neck! I went to see my new Endo, Dr. Long Duk Dong, and he sent me for a battery of imaging scans and did a fine needle biopsy. Lo' and behold, my "cyst" was actually a 2 cm lump o' cancer nestled up against my jugular vein on the left side of my neck.

I had it removed on Tuesday. The surgeon actually found two bad lumps when he went in, and because my blood level is still relatively low, we are all pretty sure (and hopeful!) that this was the LAST of the cancer that I've had for the past 12 years or so. Oddly enough, finding these tumors was a very good thing! I'm so relieved that they're out so I can go on living my life without a black cloud hanging over my head, waiting to rain on my parade.

I took this (fugly) before photo on Tuesday to remind myself that as long as I care for my skin as I always have (Neosporin, sunscreen, vitamin E, day and night lotion), my scars will fade again and eventually people will not even notice them. If you look closely you can see some of my scarring here, but many people who don't know that I had cancer don't even notice the scar that runs from ear to ear in a big "U" shape. This section of the scar has already been opened two times; this surgery makes three. Once the redness fades, I will resume my life as an under-cover cancer survivor.

I choose not to discuss it much. I've never been someone who wants or needs a lot of sympathy and I want to be known only as La Bev - goofy, funny, happy, kind, and smart. Ha ha, and modest too. ;)

So, there you have it - the scoop. I am feeling better every day, and not just because I took the whole week off from my crap job. My vocal cords are pretty pissed off about the monitor they placed on them during the surgery, so I don't have much of a voice at the moment but they tell me it will return. My excellent surgeon uses plastic surgery techniques and went in using an old scar, so I know my neck will heal up nicely. I've got an ample supply of vicodin and I'm not afraid to use it. I'm just staying home, staying quiet, watching (terrible) movies, and allowing myself to heal from the emotional and physical trauma I've been going through for these past few months.

Since November I admit that I've had moments of depression and I've felt kind of sorry for myself from time to time. I'm so grateful to all of my good friends and family for getting me through this again, for putting up with me when I'm difficult, and for respecting my desire to keep it on the down-low. My husband has stepped up these past couple of days - bringing me flowers, making me food, bearing the brunt of the child care, and giving me foot rubs. My friends have all expressed their love and concern for me and have tried to shield me from stress as best they can. They've (for the most part) overlooked any bad moods and unreasonable reactions I may have had. They've coddled me a bit, and I'm so grateful for them all.

And I'm grateful to you all for making me laugh and providing a distraction when I needed it! Thank you all. I'm a lucky gal.

This is probably the last I'll speak of my cancer at length, but I'm placing this ribbon on my sidebar. I'm not ashamed of it - it's nobody's fault, it's just my particular row to hoe. I just choose not to wallow in it if I can avoid it.

Last but not least, I hope I haven't rambled on too much during this post. My meds kicked in somewhere in here and I started to feel all warm and numb and groovy. I'd better sign off before I say anything really revealing or off-the-wall!

Much love, and here's to better days ahead!
XOXO
Bev

Can you imagine

a world without cancer? Yeah, gonna talk about this today, sorry to bring the room down and all.

Don't get me wrong, I'm in a great mood today. I'm pumped to see Lady GaGa tonight in Boston! Laurie picked up the tickets last night and the seats are actually really good - 2nd row balcony! So I think we'll be able to see & hear the show perfectly. The Wang (heh heh) Theater is an ornate opera house with big chandeliers and oppulant decor, and we're both thrilled to see her at a smaller venue before she does her next tour which will likely be a big stadium event. I'm very excited to get glammed up and see a great show! As always, I'll be armed with my trusty Nikon and will have my review for your entertainment sometime tomorrow... or Thursday, if I'm too hungover tomorrow.

But anyway, back to my original subject. This morning on Good Morning America I saw a segment about a doctor whose wife died of breast cancer 7 years ago, so he made it his personal goal to find a cure for cancer. He has made a research break-through that so far has been killing the disease in mice, and they're hopeful that it will translate to human anatomy as well. You can watch the clip here.

So far this experimental treatment has been successful in curing 86% of small cell lung cancers in mice. That's the kind of cancer my father had and it's basically considered a death sentence in humans; most people who receive that diagnosis are dead within a year. This doctor discovered a hormone made by our own hearts that may be able to kill cancer cells -- wouldn't it be amazing if it turned out that the cure to one of the most devastating diseases known to man lay in our very own bodies?

I know that there's a vast amount of research to be done before they can even green-light human trials, but I can't help but feel a little spark of optimism in my heart of hearts. I've lost loved ones to cancer. I've heard terrible words come out of a doctor's lips, felt myself turn cold as the blood drained from my face, felt like I was floating above my body as I tried to take it all in. I've attended the funeral of a friend younger than myself who died from brain cancer. I worry every day about having a doctor give me horrible news about myself or someone I care about again. Just having hope for a cure means something to me.

So, today is a good day. Every day is a good day when you're healthy and have hope for a healthy future. Going out with a great friend to see a beautiful freak in concert is just the icing on a delicious cake.

Enjoy your day, everyone!