Cancer Surgery

Getting the cancer our of your face

For this you will need either medical insurance or two thousand cash. I sadly being like most uninsured Americans went with the latter. It could have been six hundred cheaper, but I’m vein and we are talking about my top lip here. I got the best surgeon in my town. So I get my appointment a month later and show up for my big day. Oh did I mention it was a month later? Yeah, you will go fucking NUTS waiting. At one point I had bolt cutters in my hand ready to hack my lip off Dead Snow style. Somebody give me an amen for a great German zombie movie. And try the french one The Horde great flick. Can’t believe the French mastered zombie movies what a let down America.

So I take a cab to the doctor because I have broken every rule he gave me before surgery. First I had finally eaten after a month of booze, blow and bud. I had a great last meal, but your not supposed to eat before surgery. Second I was still on booze, blow, and bud. Try to imagine the look on my doctors face as I say yes to Eaten? Drank? Smoked cigarets? Marijuana? Hard drugs? Jesus your on coke and drunk? Yeah there was a nurse and an anesthesiologist as well to complete the image. The doctor didn’t want to do the operation, but I told him I hate hospitals, and there is no way I’m having you cut my face open without drugs; mine and yours. He says I may die from the anesthesia reacting with the amusement park of drugs in my system, and I say its a good day for it. Remember during this time in my life I just lost my family and wouldn’t mind seeing them at the end of the bar.

So I get an I.V. and the fun begins. Now I discovered years ago that I have a high tolerance; especially for a runt. Minutes go by and I’m laughing and joking with the doctors and they are looking at me as if I have two heads. I have counted back from ten twice and am on negative twenty. They increase the drip and I slip deeper and deeper into a really fun time. I was at negative fifty of sixty in my count. At this point they are worried for my safety because my heart is actually break dancing next to me in the operation room, while my liver smokes a cig in the corner. The doctor asks me if I want them to give me more drugs, but there is a very high risk of death. I quickly run through the story of when I was given the news of lip cancer. The crazy sex fueled, drug enhanced self inflicted sexicide and say “o yeah bring it on”. As if I was of a sound mind and body anyway. I concluded with “I get this shit out of my lip or you kill me it makes no difference to me today.” He looked at me in shock for a second then empathizing with my position he said “put a gas mask on him” and I was out like a light.

I awoke four hours later, after what should have been an hour outpatient operation, groggy as hell to someone poking me. I open my eyes to see I’m eye to eye with another person while lying on an examination table. Now I love Willow and the Wizard of Oz but waking up to a midget nurse is a sick joke. “Hey I’m alive” I realized happily. “Sir it’s time to get up you need to go home now.” my midget nurse said to me.

So I get up collect myself as best as I could and tried to walk. I fell straight to the floor and passed out. Attempt number two was better and political incorrectness aside midgets are just the right size to help you up off the ground. The next thing I remember I’m in the waiting room with six stitches in my lip and the secretary is trying to get me to fill out paper work. My doped up ass is drooling on the counter and hitting on this girl coming into the office with six stitches in my lip. Really paper work? I wrote my name large enough to cover the entire page and told them to send me a bill.

Next I’m on the floor of the CVS in the potato chip isle laughing my ass off, again drooling all over myself. I was trying to get my prescription but according to my buddy driving me only made it to the chip isle. After what I can only guess had been ten minutes he got worried about me, came in and found me on the floor drugged out of my mind really enjoying myself. They made an exception and gave my prescription to my buddy to get me out of there. The next thing I remember I’m at the bar on my block ordering, “The biggest strongest drink you have I just beat cancer bitch.” He said how about a long Island and I said I’ll have two. For the record it is hard to drink out of a high ball glass with stitches in your upper lip. And due to the drugs that is pretty much all I remember. I wish I could give you a more scientific elaboration on my surgery, but I didn’t want to know. I had watched my dad go in and out of hospitals and if I learned anything ignorance is bliss. I didn’t want to know I just wanted it solved. They told me where to go I had cash so they bent some rules and it was over in a month. I do know that I caught it very very very early since the lump on my lip was the size of a BB cut in half. Tiny little shit. I will say check out your lumps and moles people early operations are much cheaper, easier, and normally less risk. Ladies and Gentleman get checked you only get one body in this life.

Now both of these stories may be funny, and humanity but really this is not the way to do it. A Gentleman exercises restraint, composure, and faces his end with a stoic grace and dignity. I will also add you will never fuck as hard or as long as when you think you about to die.Image

17 thoughts on “Cancer Surgery

  1. I have to respectfully disagree. While it is likely a gentleman would not be found drooling on himself in the chip aisle, it seems to me that when facing death, a true gentleman knows the pointlessness of grace and dignity. Those traits are for living, not dying.

    You remind me of the e.e.Cummings poem “The Boys I Mean.” I recommend you Google it. Sometimes we find our greatest dignity in embracing our untamed spirit. 😉

    (And my offer still stands about the fuck buddy.)

  2. I wanted a second opinion on my diagnosis, but dermatologists didn’t want to do a new biopsy. I wanted to pay cash for an independent test. Pathology tests have a decent chance to conflict and doctors do not like to conflict. I wanted to trust the doctors, but things started bad and got worse. When you catch doctors making life threatening mistakes; it gets tricky to trust. I hope they did good to you. I might go party until I die. Sounds funner than letting the doctors try to kill me, again.

  3. I probably have so much shit wrong with me that at this point it’s useless to know about any of it. Not that I would really give a fuck, anyway. If I had to pay to see a doctor that was going to tell me of more shit I have to pay to see more doctors about, I’d sooner just die. Being poor sucks.

  4. Sounds like a truly horrifying experience, but you tell it with surprising wit and grace. Glad you got this taken care of…and had the money to do so. My son doesn’t have insurance or a job. He’s bipolar with a bad back and neck and in constant pain. Still trying to get him insured through Obamacare. Like Elletueff says, it sucks to be poor, and so sadly, often leads to early death.

  5. Sometimes I think back to times when I was well gone on a few notable chemical things, doing a great nasty dance of sorts to occupy body and soul and I KNOW that if someone wanted to cut my face open to save my life I would have let them in a heartbeat. A gentleman knows when life has kicked him in the balls and when he needs to get up and kick him back or lay down saying thankyou. You kicked back, well done sir, well done.

  6. Hey Taylor, God sure has given you some great plot lines so you can share these stories in your own raw unpolished way. The term “sexicide” made my day today. Reading the freedom and passion in your stories is like seeing you vomiting. So intimate and ugly and beautiful in your vulnerablility. You barfing your stories out gives the rest of us permission to write however we write – that is, if we have the balls to reach deep into our own guts, take a good hard look at whatever we find there, and just tell it like we see it. BTW, thanks for following my blog. I hope it helps you to find something more satisfying than the labyrinth of desire and repulsion. I spent a lot of time there – still do – and all it ever gets me is a huge hole that never gets filled. My heart is with you, Golden Eagle Feather

  7. Always so very raw stories, honest and unashamed.

    Have you written a post about what your definition of a Gentleman is and why you wanted to ‘become’ one?.

  8. All I can say is wow. I like your raw honesty in expressing your self. Are you okay? What are they saying now? I wish you could tell my husband to get his butt to the doctor and get stuff checked out. Thanks for stopping by my blog, and I will pray for you!

    • keep reading, I think its called curing cancer or getting it out of your face. I keep changing chapter names and the order is screwed up. Anyway tell your dude he gets great sex after he goes to doctor. Works every time.

  9. I’ll start by saying I’m sorry for laughing at your pain. I hope that you are well on your way to recovery and no longer have this death wish. I look forward to reading more of your lively storytelling.

  10. Im no professional, but I imagine you simply produced an excellent point. You undoubtedly fully comprehend what youre speaking about, and I can definitely get behind that. Thanks for becoming so upfront and so truthful.

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