#Yeah those are terrible. So sorry your taxes are being used to keep your neighbors alive.

[caterpillarinacave]

The way I don’t give a shit

[emma-christine-spoole]

My Muse Does the Vanity Fair Interview

https://www.vanityfair.com/magazine/2000/01/proust-questionnaire

Tagging: @normalouisebatesrp @itsnormanbates @leather-lover-massett @xeffie-thredsonx @maggiexesmerelda @tillhumanvxices  @foxbelieve @danascullyeffect @costaricaaguitars @theirlament

and anyone else who wants to. (repost, don’t reblog)

1. What is your idea of perfect happiness?

Wow, we’re jumping right into the deep philosophical questions, huh? I don’t know if it’s possible to have completely flawless, perfect happiness in this life. The world has too many flaws and too many people with high capacity for senseless evil. I think the closest we can get to perfect happiness in this life is having strong bonds with those you love, the kind that will give you the strength to face down that evil when you have to face it.

2. What is your greatest fear?

I try to stay out of political discussions and keep my views to myself most of the time. I’ve just found it’s the smartest thing to do, having spent so many years living in the nation’s capital and considering where I was working. But here’s an exception. My greatest fear currently is that we’re sliding toward a Gilead-like nightmare, slowly like a frog in a pot, so we aren’t going to notice until we’re being boiled alive. Scared that women are going to be stripped of all the progress made over the last half-century, including rights my mother and her mother demonstrated in the streets for. But then I look at my daughter @xeffie-thredsonx and know that’s not going to happen without a hell of a fight from the next generation.

3. What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?

I can have a streak of hypocrisy, unfortunately. I can condemn and punish others for the same perceived wrongdoings I’ve been guilty of myself. I do that by rationalizing, believing my reasons are justified and even noble when theirs aren’t, that I’m bending or even breaking the law to protect those I love or to bring down those who otherwise would’ve gotten away.

4. What is the trait you most deplore in others?

Cowardice. It’s so often an underlying root issue of criminal behavior. I deal primarily with criminals who keep other humans as slaves to be sold. They put on such an act they’re such big, tough dangerous guys. But they’re really cowards; it’s obvious once you know how to scratch the psychological surface. Also cowards are the violence-fetishists who hide behind their keyboards and post death-bounties on my head on 4Chan. Pffft. Whatever. That’s been going on for years. Nothing new at all.

5. Which living person do you most admire?

Captain Tammy Duckworth, U.S. Army. She piloted a Black Hawk helicopter with both her legs and part of one arm blown off after it was shot down by a grenade missile in Iraq. Still landed it and the rest of her crew to safety. I met her once when she was campaigning for the Senate, and she’s an amazing person. That’s a true warrior and American hero. People overcome once-fatal childhood diseases every day now. That’s not a warrior. That’s called advances in modern medicine.

6. What is your greatest extravagance?

My white Mustang convertible. I love that car like no other. I bought it when I still living in D.C. and there was no need to drive, but so what? I got it anyway. In Oregon, there’s nothing comparable to driving along the coastal highway with the top down on a rain-free day!

7. What is your current state of mind?

Guess you could say I’m pretty introspective because of these questions. I’m also curious and a little bit apprehensive how this interview is going to be received once it hits the news stands. I know we talked about me being known in some circles as “The Sex Trade’s Most Hated Woman,” but I’d really NOT like that moniker splashed all over the cover, if you possibly have any control over it.

8. What do you consider the most overrated virtue?

Conformity to “traditions.” I have no patience with people who feel it’s best to be conservative, unremarkable, ordinary, to blend in and to blindly follow the life-script that gets pushed on all of us. To me, that’s consigning yourself to a lifetime of mediocrity and dead dreams.

9. On what occasion do you lie?

I lie when I have to protect my birth family, and that’s not the only thing I’ll do to keep them out of harm’s way. We’re not the typical close-knit family. We even have a dangerous side we show to those we perceive as threats. Spend some time in White Pine Bay, and you’ll soon hear all sorts of whispered rumors about us. And whispered warnings to stay off our bad side. Some of those people even act like we’re the Mafia or something! We might not have quite that much pull, but any of us will lie, defend ourselves, and more, when it comes to protecting our own.

10. What do you most dislike about your appearance?

Nothing, to be honest. I’ve always thought I look pretty damn good. If I had to pick one thing, I might’ve liked to share my sister’s bigger breasts. But trust me: they look best on her.

11. Which living person do you most despise?

It’s almost a tie between Ellen Sanders and Alex Romero. The former: Nearly assassinating the President while taking away another woman’s husband is one thing, BUT the latter: taking emotional and sexual advantage of my sister and trying to have my nephew locked up in an institution for no valid reason: NOW it gets personal.  

12. What is the quality you most like in a man?

Knows how to treat a lady. Ripped. Obedient. Has Mommy issues.

13. What is the quality you most like in a woman?

Sweetness. A great body. Willingness to give me complete control. Not only willing, but eager.

14. Which words or phrases do you most overuse?

“‘Fuck.’ It’s such a blunt, to-the-point, attention-grabbing word in one syllable. Used the right way, it can express anything. Anger, excitement...climax...

15. What or who is the greatest love of your life?

At one time, I didn’t believe having one “great love of your life” existed in reality. That was before I met my sister’s oldest son @leather-lover-massett. My sister’s his mother and my brother’s his father, so the only thing I’ve heard is accurate to call us is “aunt and nephew twice over.” DNA-wise, we’re closer to being mother and son than regular aunt & nephew. We were strongly, inexplicably drawn to each other from the minute we met, and over the course of one evening, we felt like we’d known each other our whole lives. Before anyone gets up in arms over the taboo of it: Genetic sexual attraction is real and happens 50% of the time in cases like mine. I didn’t believe in it either, until that indescribably intense love - and yes: lust - hit me like a ton of bricks. We’re two consenting adults, we’re hurting absolutely no one, and that’s the end of that discussion far as I’m concerned.

16. When and where were you happiest?

Cliche’ as it might sound: when I was an undergrad at Ohio State. I’d wanted to go there since I was 11 or 12 and watching the Buckeyes basketball games with my dad. I was a two-hour bus ride away from my parents, away from home for the first time; everything was so full of possibility. No one’s college experience is perfect. I would of course face challenges and pitfalls, but there were plenty of good times too. I haven’t been as completely, enthusiastically optimistic since.

17. Which talent would you most like to have?

It would have been cool to be able to learn an instrument. I suffered through piano and clarinet lessons before I started middle school, and I was terrible. It sounded like throwing metal trash cans down a flight of stairs, and I feel sorry for our neighbors back then. Tried some of my bandmates’ guitars when I was older, and I wasn’t much better. I can hear all the rhythms, timing, and such when I sing, but instruments: something just never computed.

18. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

It’s all in the past now, but I would’ve changed the amount of courage I needed to first contact my birth family. I needed a lot more of it, which is why it took me so long. A lot of years were lost, and it would’ve been so different if we’d met earlier. I never got to meet my birth parents, and in a weird way I have some deep-down gratitude towards them, for putting me up for adoption. But then I start to feel guilty about that when I think of Norma and Caleb left behind with them, and the hell they were put through.

19. What do you consider your greatest achievement?

I don’t think about it much, and sometimes I lose sight of it, but yeah it’s achieving the rank of Special Agent. The exams and PT for it are quite challenging, and it can be very taxing mentally, physically, emotionally, every which way. Only 5-10% of field agents make it every year. Sadly, that percentage of women is even smaller. I’ve love to see that number start climbing within my lifetime.

20. If you were to die and come back as a person or a thing, what would it be?

I haven’t thought about that one! If I got to come back as a whole new person and got to do it all over again, I’d want to come back as the rock star who makes it big this time. Recording contracts, sold-out arenas, the whole nine yards. No law enforcement career this time, in this next life.

21. Where would you most like to live?

I’d love to have a private island off the coast of Oregon and Washington State, and have a big fancy cabin built there for Dylan and myself. Since I spent time with my bio family, I’ve also fallen in love with this beautiful area of the country. Our island would have a causeway bridge and of course gorgeous views of the ocean and forests. Definitely with enough space and privacy for all of us in the family.

22. What is your most treasured possession?

My riverfront house I ended up buying, in northern Portland. Not that I don’t miss downtown Bethesda and all the urban excitement of D.C., sometimes. It was a big change, but I felt like I was home. On a deep level I’d never felt before. I can’t see myself living anywhere else, even after not this long a time. Now, if I could only get the city to sign off on the building permit for a hot tub on the back deck, that’d be great.

23. What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?

That’s a tough one to talk about. I’d say it’s the feeling of being alone after a traumatic loss. A sudden loss of someone or something who’d meant the world to you, and you couldn’t have guessed it was coming. People can say they sympathize and understand how you feel, but they don’t. Not really. Not unless they’ve lived through the same kind of loss.  

24. What is your favorite occupation?

Ask me that a few years ago, and I would’ve said “Mine is! Working for the FBI, of course!” But lately I have low-key thought about what other career I would’ve pursued given the desire and the circumstances. The first one I came up with: I would’ve gotten my Krav Maga instructor certification and opened my own KM studio. It would be in White Pine Bay, because god knows women there especially need to learn self-defense. Then maybe I’d open another one in Portland, and after that: who knows? Another, very fleeting career thought: If I’d really pursued it seriously when I was younger, I might have ended up singing in a band that made it big, or *laughs* otherwise ended up in show business. But it wasn’t the path meant for me, in reality. 

25. What is your most marked characteristic?

I’ve always been told I pull the energy right to me once I walk into a room. Most people already there, their attention gets drawn to me even when they’re doing something else. I suppose that’s defined as magnetism. Others’ attention gets me energized and even more confident, though I’ve also been accused of arrogance. It’s something I’ve honed for years: the need to mentally and emotionally grab people and shut down any flickers of doubts they may have about me, my leadership, and my convictions that my course of action is the right one.

26. What do you most value in your friends?

I don’t have many female friends, except my sister and a few from the Academy or college that I keep in touch with on Facebook. It’s not that easy to make friends with most other women because we end up having nothing in common, and of course I’m guarded about my family. If I did have them, I’d value a lack of jealousy or toxic emotional fuckery that’s so prevalent among adult women who never matured past high school age. When it comes to finding a beautiful fuck-buddy, I don’t have nearly as much trouble ;)

27. Who are your favorite writers?

Anyone who has written a good autobiography or memoir. I love following other people’s journeys and experiences through this crazy life with all its highs and lows. They can be famous or not; it doesn’t matter to me. Everyone’s life is a story to tell. Some of my favorites: I’ll read anything by Haven Kimmel, most of Stacy Layne Wilson’s books, and similar. I’m currently reading “The Woman Who Smashed Codes” by Jason Fagone.

28. Who is your hero of fiction?

Most of what I read is non-fiction, like I said. I think anyone who writes down their life story and all its intricacies is pretty heroic, putting it out there for the world to read. If I had to pick a fictional hero, it would have to be Molly Bolt from Rita Mae Brown’s Rubyfruit Jungle. You don’t have to be gay or even female to love this character. It also brought me a long way in realizing how much my own bisexuality is to be owned and celebrated.

29. Which historical figure do you most identify with?

Gloria Steinem. I consider myself a Steinem-era feminist; I was raised that way and it definitely comes from my mother. I see all the ways feminism has changed over the decades, and it’s funny how some of those beliefs are downright conservative when you compare them to some of what’s considered “feminism” today.

30. Who are your heroes in real life?

I don’t truly have a lot of hero-worship for much of anyone. It goes back to my being a supposed egomaniac, which I still think is an exaggeration. Like a lot of kids, especially cops’ kids, my dad was one of my heroes when I was that young. Until I grew up some, then learned he (and any law enforcement officers) isn’t all-powerful against the evil in this world.  

31. What are your favorite names?

Those of us three Calhoun siblings: Emma, Caleb, and Norma. They sound rhythmic together. Even though I take serious issue with what my brother did to my sister, we are still bound by blood and that’ll never change. Caleb and I have a rocky relationship, and I would slap handcuffs on him in a second if he ever tried to hurt her again. But he’s still my brother too. Part of me will always believe there should’ve been three of us growing up together. I still wonder how different our lives would’ve turned out if we had.

32. What is it that you most dislike?

People who exploit and harm those who can’t defend themselves. They don’t even have to technically break the law, although most I’ve encountered do just that, over and over. There are too damn many of them in the world.

33. What is your greatest regret?

Shit, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to talk about this. *deep breath* My greatest regret is losing someone I loved deeply and highly valued as a colleague. He was married and a father of two, and I had no business falling for him. Of course that does nothing to stop it, ever. Neither of us could control falling in love. It’s taken me years to accept and believe David’s murder wasn’t my fault, that there was absolutely nothing I could’ve done to stop it. I’m just now coming to accept that what happened to him after he died isn’t my fault either.

34. How would you like to die?

In the words of John Lennon, “I’ll probably get popped off by some loony.” Haha! I kid! Ideally, I’d like to die naturally as an old lady, surrounded by loved ones. I don’t think the odds are much in my favor for that, but we can only wait and see...

35. What is your motto?

If you’re physically and mentally able to do something to make things better and punish the deserving, then you no longer have the luxury of shirking that responsibility.

Also:

“Do what you feel in your heart to be right--for you’ll be criticized anyway. You’ll be damned if you do and damned if you don’t.” --Eleanor Roosevelt

[braindamageforbeginners]

A Moment of Introspection (or, Why Positive Thinking is Actually a Bad Thing)

Since starting the whole end-stage brain cancer thing, I’ve gotten a variety of messages from assorted friends and acquaintances wishing me well - it's quite heartwarming, actually - and, although it's universally well-intended, a significant percentage (about 20-40%, I'd estimate) have the glaring subtext, “Cheer up, for Chrissakes.” I appreciate that, for most people, that's intended as a sincerely well-meaning sentiment, but, uh, no; no thanks. I was never a cheery person, I'm unlikely to turn into one under current conditions. All of this reminded me of why I'm fastidiously documenting this whole process. We tend to see dying people as “the great other,” (believe me, we really do, you just don't experience it until you're on the wrong side of the equation), and that colors a great amount of my interactions - you can kind of simulate this experience, by spending a day where you don't discuss, or do, anything pertaining to a time frame after the next six months. It'll be easier for some of you than others.

The ClifNotes version of this rant is how to properly respond when you hear bad news about a friend or neighbor, and why positive thinking isn't such a good idea. We’ll tackle the second one first, because I'm a Star Wars fan.

When you develop a dangerous disease, you will be overwhelmed by many things, but the most annoying are people telling you to remain positive. This is a bad idea on many levels, not least of which because it could kill you. When I first found out about the latest tumor in July, I was told not to panic, that this was a fairly slow-growing tumor, and I had some time to deal with it. When my tumor was removed in November - that's about 4 months, for those keeping score - the tumor had leap-frogged from stage II to stage IV.  If I had freaked the fuck out the minute I heard the word “tumor” and had it removed immediately; I would be in a completely different diagnostic category, with a completely different prognosis and life expectancy. And that wasn't even positive thinking, that was just relying on well established medical facts and/or probability. So you can understand why, perhaps, I'm suspicious of positive thinking at the moment; it’s demonstrably dangerous to me. So, you'll forgive me for operating under the assumption that this will be my last Christmas. That may or may not be accurate, it's simply an inference based on current events (speaking of which, there's an excellent chance I’ll eventually lose my insurance if that despicable tax bill becomes law, which will result in blocking access to care, which will inevitably end in a sub-optimal result for me). I suppose you could take that the other way, and assume, “Well, the disease behaved unpredictably already, that could swing the other way, too,” but it's still not a bright idea to bet on a team on a losing streak. Also, I already beat the odds - for fifteen years. This is just the law of averages catching up to me.

We are also an outcomes-oriented society - no one’s about to show up and give me gold star for living 30-odd years as a decent, kind human being who never really achieved anything of import; it's unlikely I'll get credit for weathering this particular shitstorm with grace and dignity (BTW, dignity is the very first thing that gets jettisoned in these situations; I think I left any remaining scraps of that on the floor of the shower when I had to have a nurse physically support me throughout the entire shower/basic hygiene process). I should get credit for not strangling any of the nitwits who try to cheer me up the wrong way.

THE PROPER WAY TO CHEER ME UP: Tell me about your aunt who beat brain cancer (I’m actually being sincere). Maybe leave out that epilogue about her living a full three years past what the doctors expected; I'm not in a position to refuse any extra time, but I'm ambitiously hoping for more than five years. Call me crazy! Or, y’know, just treat me like a regular person who's in the middle of a bad divorce. I'm aware that my situation is much worse, but I can not escape the constant reminders that I'm in a really bad way (I'm taking very strange meds that give me insomnia and heartburn; I'm on the phone with my doctors, nurses, and insurance company every hour or two; I could go on), so it's nice to be treated as a person, and not a disease bound in human flesh. I love Oprah, I love Oscar Wilde, but until they're sitting in a waiting room next to a man with literally only half a face, please don't spout inspirational garbage unless you want to make it onto the “To Stab” list.

Speaking of being an outcome-oriented society; a great deal of my (and probably most other cancer patients’) dread and anxiety is based on the uncertainty of outcomes. We tend to be of the mind-set that our fear of an event is much worse than the event itself; and, normally, I'd agree with that sentiment. Except, at almost every single step in the diagnostic/discovery process, the outcome has not only been far worse than my worst fears, it's outstripped my doctors’ predictions. True, I have gotten slightly lucky in a few ways (the surgery went far better than expected, I do have a mutation that gives me a 40% chance of survival with conventional treatment, I'm in a drug trial that should improve those odds, and I might be able to get insurance next year), but even those all come with caveats and qualifications. And they're weighed against an uncertain future in which even death isn't the worst possible outcome (remember Two Face in the waiting room? Yeah, it's not likely to happen to me, but neither was stage IV brain cancer). So, you might understand why, with a future that's decidedly more S. King than B. Potter, even with the rosiest predictions (and not a whole lot of future, at that). The happiest baby rabbit photo in the world isn't going to improve those odds, so keep the motivational posters to yourself. If things are looking better in a few weeks, yeah, sure, I'll be cheerier, but I haven't even started treatment yet.

I realize that most of these misfires come from the human impulse to do something to help each other (again, knowing that people are just well-intentioned idiots has saved a few of those idiots from a much-needed eyeball gouging), and it just comes out wrong. I try to preface everything I write with the warning that I don't speak for all cancer patients, just me. Today, I'm going to abandon that stance and speak as Cancer Man (but not the cool, X-Files one), patron saint and mouthpiece for all patients with terrible afflictions, and give you, dear reader, the perfect response when you hear that unimaginable tragedy has struck someone you care about. I'm so confident in its efficacy, that it will work not only for cancer, but for almost all diseases, and, indeed, tragedy in general, from unexpected weight gain to a neighbor losing their child. However, before we get there, let's look at the very best, and very worst, reactions (there's only one of each, I won't hold you in suspense for too long).

So, far and away the best response to my situation came from a former boss in the biotech industry, who had heard of several promising clinical trials, and offering some advice about trial eligibility. I knew I was a decent employee, I didn't think I was that good.

Now, the very worst response - and the one I've possibly received the most - is, “"I could get hit by a bus tomorrow.” Or something similar. Usually this is whenever I bring up the odds of me making it five years (about 40%), because Americans don't understand how probability or basic math works (this also explains our economic policies). Fortunately, most people realize it's kind of a dickish thing to say, “I can completely empathize, because I am also mortal.” It took me a while to figure out the proper response to that, which is; “"I'm so glad you agree, let's play some Russian Roulette.” Once I break it down that way - that I'm in a life or death situation over which I have absolutely no control - most people back off.

Anyway, here's your go-to response whenever tragedy strikes someone you know; “"That's awful. I am so sorry, and I have no idea what to say. Is there anything I can do?” That will work for every unpleasant disease you can imagine, I'd wager my life on it (another phrase that used to mean something).

And the only person who's inquired - unprompted - about my emotional state was my radiation oncologist. She was sort of double-checking that I was depressed (or trying to figure out if the cancer was causing it, I'm not sure). Either way, the implication was the disease could be directly influencing my emotional state and/or outlook. If you're still having trouble understanding why I'm slightly upset, imagine having an alien parasite in your brain that can alter your very perception of reality - what we usually call our sanity - and knowing that, if science fails, things will get much, much worse, and eventually, you will die. That's not a problem if you're Kirk or McCoy, but let's say you're slowly becoming aware - like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern - that you're a nameless red shirt. BTW, if Spock doesn't synthesize an antidote in time, these dispatches are going to become very surreal as I descend into madness and pain.

Finally - and don't worry, I'm mostly done with self-pity - you'll have to be patient, I literally found out about all of this five weeks ago. It's all a little much to adjust to in less time than it takes to establish residency in most places. Hell, just for comparison, my chemo/radiation course is - minimally - six weeks. Which brings up my final point (hang in there, we’re almost done), why I'm writing these things. In our society, we tend to view dying people (or those in grave situations) as The Great Other. We want Morrie Schwartz, or we want sick people to shut up and go away (BTW, the feeling’s mutual on the other side of the fence, sick people just want you to give us morphine and let us die in peace). I have not heard of anyone undergoing this, uh, process, while maintaining their surliness and cowardice (and you would be, too, if you were only getting a few hours of sleep every night) - not that I'm dedicated to those traits, but they come naturally to me in crisis (or this particular crisis; I don't know what I'd be like if I was sleeping well and didn't have to call some specialist or billing department or coordinator every hour or so) - and I think future cancer patients should be assured that a bit (or a lot)(or even massive amounts) of griping and fear is fairly normal and has no real effect on the outcome (it doesn't, I haven't seen a study conclusively showing any correlation between attitude and patient outcomes). And this whole writing project will help me keep track of my efforts to find the world’s funniest cancer joke. It has to be out there, somewhere; I've been unable to shake the feeling that I'm somehow involved in some horrible, tasteless joke (and I've crunched the numbers; this whole thing is so statistically outlandish that finding out I am some sort of fictional character in an elaborate story about end-of-life issues would not be the most surprising (or upsetting) discovery I've made this month), and damned if I'm going to leave before figuring out the punchline (of course, I'm about to be damned, anyway; my mother described the radiation waiting room as “the line to cross the Styx”). And finally, I'm doing this because I still can; there may well come a time when I'm unable to write - a thought that scares me far worse than dying. And it may very well may happen; after all, we live in a universe rich in possibilities.

In conclusion, if you feel the need to cheer someone up, there are other cancer patients you can bother. Some of them are probably serene and wise, even (those are the patients with personal assistants to wade through the vast pile of BS that is the bureaucracy of the modern medical-industrial complex). If, on the other hand, you're interested in seeing how far down the rabbit hole goes, with a host who isn't afraid to ask, “This is really fucked up, right? This isn't just me, is it?” I'm your man. For good or bad, my life looks the way it does because I'm too lazy to pretend to be someone I'm not (well, that, and life-long neurological disease); and I'm certainly not going to work on that skill while simultaneously trying to survive what promises to be the very worst (possibly even the very last) two months of my life. Speaking of which...

UPDATE: I met with the researcher running the neurocognitive assessment trial, which is kind of fun (the neurocognitive tests are kind of like some sort of therapy for dementia patients (which, I suppose, could describe me soon enough); you get to draw things (sort of), you play word games (sort of), and you get to play with blocks (sort of)). And then I got to fill out some forms to assess my current neuropsychiatric state. I realize I use synonyms for “fear” a lot on this blog, but the questions on the psych form were deeply upsetting in their implications (”Have you had recent troubles articulating your thoughts or feelings?” YOU. MOTHERFUCKERS. Writing is the last thing I have any real control over; don't you dare take this from me). Good news; the researcher assured me that current radiation treatment is much less nuclear holocaust-y than old fashioned radiation treatment, and the goal of this study is to demonstrate just how much better it is for patient cognitive abilities. She was less happy about my constant pestering her about specifics (”Have I experienced balance problems in the last week? Yes, but since someone was sawing through my somatosensory lobe a month ago, I don't think it was a psychiatric issue.”), so she eventually told me to shut up and scribble any notes or caveats in the margins (I don't think anyone will be amused that, after I rated the statement “I am afraid of dying” (I very strongly agree with that statement, obviously), I wrote, “There is about a 60% chance I'll die in the next five years, it's not a fear, it's just basic math.” Still, it was reassuring when she told me that she does see most patients again at the three month follow-up, and that most of them are mostly-intact. And, in surprising news, I finally saw the psychooncologist; and she seemed remarkably empathetic and intelligent (I guess it's just the administrative staff that are cruel and incompetent). I guess I have adjustment disorder (no shit, Sherlock)(also, there's probably a few readers who saw that coming). But, bigger news, the antidepressant I was on is linked to anxiety, insomnia, and, wait for it... seizures. So, I will be transitioning to a less dangerous (for me, anyway) antidepressant over the next few weeks, so things might get a little odd around here during that time. She (the psychiatrist) also said something to mull over; (and I'm paraphrasing), “Any time you cut into the brain, you permanently change the neurochemistry. And we've done that to you three times since you were 17.” I also got a call from my original mad scientist oncologist in Northern California (or one of her Igors, anyway), reminding me that she wants an MRI a month after starting radiation, which is reassuring. I have no illusions about her investment in me; it makes for a much better case study if the patient lives longer, and I am a once-in-a-lifetime medical specimen (I don't mean that in a sleazy, “Welcome to the gun show” way; I once calculated that there are fewer than 250 people with similar medical histories... on planet Earth). Still, the more people who want me to live, and are in a position to help make that dream a reality, the better. Now for the bad news; the radiation department is still haggling with my insurance company, and that's holding up this whole process. However, they're expecting to hear back in a day or so, and, as Dad noted, the insurance company has been quite generous and almost-mammalian during this whole process. All I want for Christmas is chemo.