My Momma Always Said...

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

My Mother was ...well, my Mother. She helped to make me who I am.


My Momma Always Said...


I’ve been posting some kinda strange shit on Facebook lately.  I know this. I have my reasons. Trust me.


Some of my friends out there in cyberland are reading my posts and thinking “TOO MUCH INFORMATION!!!”


Yeah, I know. I get it. I’m not trying to advertise my current medical condition. But neither am I trying to keep it any kind of secret. 


I try to maintain a bit of my odd sense of humor with regard to the situation unfolding upon my physical being at this time. Hey! It’s my cancer and I could cry if I want to, but naaaaw. I think I’ll try to laugh it off. If I offend anyone by doing so...some folks get offended if people, (me), don’t react to a very serious predicament with the appropriate amount of morbid reserve and dignity. Yeah. Whatever.


Fuck dignity and the appropriate response it rode in on!


Back in the 90’s, the FIRST time I had cancer. I worked at my family business...right up until I was physically unable to work anymore.  Then I kinda disappeared from view.  I wasn’t trying to hide my illness. I just quit going to work.


In a vacuum of relevant factual information, certain kinds of people will manufacture a narrative of their own. During the course of my chemotherapy, I found this out the hard way.


It turned out, by way of explaining my absence from the workplace, that one of my of my ex’s exes... decided to tell the world that I had contracted aids. Nice guy. This came as quite a surprise to me. I mean, why would ANYBODY pull that kinda crap?!


I had ANOTHER customer who came to the family store to sit down and talk with me about my diagnosis, disease and course of treatment after I decided to show up at work, sit on a stool at the end of the counter, and set the story straight. He came in to the business several times to discuss my deteriorating health. (At the time, all my hair had fallen out, my skin took on a kind of jaundiced tint, and I lost about 35 pounds).


THIS yahoo took the information that he obtained by questioning me about my condition back to his own family and told them that HE had cancer. WTF is wrong with people?!


Fast forward to today and my “TMI” posts.  I’m not trying to keep any secrets. Neither am I trying to advertise my medical condition.  Past experience has taught me that a little factual information can counteract a ton o’ bullshit. Whether this still applies in the disinformation age remains to be seen.


But it’s more than just that.


This time around,(with the cancer treatment), I have encountered a host of new pains and problems. Some aspects of my condition have even befuddled the medical specialists charged with developing and implementing my plan for treatment. I went through more than a month of hell, listening to the doctor of record tell me “I really don’t understand why you’re experiencing this pain. Of the thousands of patients that I have treated, you are the first one to describe THIS kind of pain.”


Uhhhhh...NOT what I wanna hear from my cancer specialist.  What I wanna hear is: “Dude! We got this. I see it ALL the time. This is what we’re gonna do.”


Ummmm...yeaaaah, no.


Prostate cancer is a pretty common disease for men. The older you get, the more at risk you are.


If, by relating the actual factual trials and tribulations of my diagnosis and disease, I can help someone else navigate the uncertainties associated with this very frightening interruption to the ebb and flow of daily life, then MY illness is not a waste of time. If I cannot make any kind of difference, at least I tried.


But by now you’re probably asking yourself “what the hell does ANY of this have to do with what my Momma always said?”  Good question.


My Momma always said: “Live your life as if everything you ever do is going to be put on display for the whole world to see.”


Even dealing with cancer.


I really don’t give a shit what people think about me. People think what they think, based on whatever processes they internalize. Nothing that I can do about that, really.


Some people think I’m a goof, some people think I’m an asshole, some people think I’m a hard worker, some people think I should write a book, probably some people think I’m a nice guy. Whatevs.


And there’s ONE woman out there in the world that I really DO care what she thinks about me. And she loves me. That’s good enough for me.


Momma had something to say about THAT too. But I think I’ll just keep that to myself today. 


Peace. Out.


Submitted: December 20, 2020

© Copyright 2021 ShadyBrady. All rights reserved.

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Fresh writing trumps everything. Keeping it real. Good luck, my friend.

Tue, December 22nd, 2020 12:10pm


Just starting my Tuesday, December 22, 2020... I have Alexa blasting out Boston's "More Than A Feeling" loud enough to rattle the windows. TODAY is my last radiation treatment.

I printed out a copy of "The Ballad Of Dr. Jellyfinger" to slide onto the radiation techs' workstation as I go into the vault today. (it is included in the book that I am having self published as we "speak".)

It's almost Christmas. And for the first time in many, many years I'm feeling the vibe. With no family around, and being in self quarantine mode, due to both the pandemic and my own physical state, I have resorted to performing random acts of kindness for my own selfish reasons. It makes me feel good.

So yeah, It IS more than a feeling. Life is good.

God bless us, every one!

Tue, December 22nd, 2020 7:55am

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