There’s a lot of misinformation about the treatment of cancer, what to expect, and the aftermath. Much of it is from movies, television, and those “feel good” charity commercials. They all want you to believe we’re in this fight together and that a support system will magically appear around you when the shit hits the fan. I wish that had been the case.
Let’s be honest, there’s no Dr. Wilson from House M.D. coming to shower you with infinite compassion and a crack team of doctors. What you get is a brutally efficient system of treatment that, in my case, happened so quickly I didn’t even have time to understand what I was undergoing. Diagnosed on a Monday, surgery the next week, and my 1st chemo the very next day. You may remember how well that turned out, with a severe reaction to Rituxan and a single nurse keeping her cool while half a dozen others stared at me as I convulsed. Good times.
Some people were nice, but many were either ignorant of the process or indifferent to it, sometimes cruelly so. I still vividly remember the nurse who tugged on my power port like it was bolted to my chest with rivets instead of just skin. The way she jammed a syringe of morphine so quickly into my port, in spite of my protests, that I almost threw up on her shoes. No blissful euphoria there only a terrible twisting of my stomach and dizzying bout of nausea. Pumped full of painkillers I still couldn’t sleep as she stomped in and out of my room on her hourly checks, ignoring the fact that me and my wife (cramped in a chair next to me) were trying to get some meager semblance of sleep. These were just a few lovely moments from the ordeal of my treatment.
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Social media has infiltrated our lives more than any other Internet phenomenon. It’s on our computers (both at work and home), it’s on our phones, and it’ll soon be on our glasses. Ubiquitous is an understatement.
Portions of social media have been very useful to me, such as building creative relationships through Twitter, but others have been time wasting distractions like the big blue monster to my right.
When I first joined Facebook I was working in the UK, making friends, and building my business network. LinkedIn was kinda crap and Facebook still had a cool vibe to it, so I jumped in. For many years it was the best way to keep in touch with my overseas and out-of-state pals.
Lately, it has morphed into a Pavlovian clicking experiment where I spend my hours doing little more than “liking” inane bullshit. Creating material to share on the site took a backseat and I turned into a pure consumer. After the shitstorm that was 2012, I knew that wasting my time like this was a slow death sentence. Something had to change.
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If you’ve ever met me in person or followed me on Twitter then you know I’m a fan of the occasional expletive. Some days I salt my conversations more liberally than others, but I’m always guaranteed at least one nugget of joy.
I’ve never understood the societal aversion to cursing. Language is a rich experience and to limit yourself with arbitrary boundaries only dilutes the experience. There are those who think the words are naughty and should be forbidden to all. There are others who think it signifies a lack of intelligence.
Curse words are like any other tool and when used properly can achieve breathtaking results. Here are some examples of what I believe are solid executions of profanity which not only enrich the story they’re telling, but elevate it to a level it would never achieve without swearing.