It's been a long time since I've updated this blog. Wow, that's strange, for me to start something and then not commit to it....
...either way, this summer deserves a blogging. I'm gonna blog the fuck out of this summer.
It started off simple enough. I finally stopped talking to my ex who did nothing but emotionally twist me into a nervous, insecure mess. I still had the job at the comic book store, and I had finally felt settled into my place in Todd's house, living with him, Josh, and Puppy. We threw massive parties (much bigger than Todd's tiny house) and I drank...a lot. Chris was in town all summer from Bloomington, an added plus. Everything just felt...normal. Boring, but normal.
Then the fun began.
First, there was Jay (name changed out of respect). One night in early summer, two of my friends from Auburn had come to visit me, and begged me to go out. Coincidentally, Dan was gathering people to go to Babylon. I did not feel up for it, but Robin and Stefanie (friends from Auburn) really wanted to go out. I finally caved, and for the first time ever, I barely tried to look good before going to the gay bar. I was not looking for anyone (I was still slightly hung up on my ex) and I just wanted to go and dance and drink. We went, and Dan was already plastered. I asked him who all was going to show up, and he listed off the usuals, and then he said, "And my friend Jay's coming. You'll probably think he's cute."
And he was. Very much so.
We talked, and it was very friendly. What I found strange was that he seemed to hang around me and my two friends from Auburn, and no one else. I asked him to dance, to which he replied, "I don't dance with guys." My reply to him was, "It's a fucking gay bar." And off I went with Robin to the dance floor.
I told him goodbye that night and he said it was really nice meeting me. I thought about him all week, and pestered Dan for details. I got to hang out with him by chance one night, meeting up with Dan at Henry's and going to this girl's apartment to smoke weed. This girl also happened to be friends with Jay, and he was there. I got really nervous, then really stoned, and didn't talk to him all night. I felt like an asshole.
Then he gave me his number. Where is this charm I must possess? I've really never noticed it, but dammit I can get numbers.
We talked. We drank. He spent the night. I was impressed, he seemed to be to. I didn't want to rush things (thoughts of my ex dancing in my head), but I liked him. And I began to really like him. And then things got weird.
We dated for two months, but it didn't feel like anything substantial. I enjoyed his company, enjoyed falling asleep next to him, and everything else. But he always seemed distant and readily blew me off to hang out with his friends and such. One night, after he had a fight with his parents, he asked if he could spend the night. I said, "Of course!" and then I didn't hear from him for the rest of the night. The next day I learned he drove to Ohio to visit a friend or something and never bothered to tell me. I called him, freaked out on him, and thoroughly made myself seem like a clingy, desperate fag. But, in retrospect, he was an asshole about it.
We continued to date for another week or so. Then we didn't talk for two weeks. I wasn't going to try to get a hold of him for my own pride (and visions of my ex still dancing in my head). Finally, I texted him. No reply. Another text sent to him. Still no reply. Then this text conversation was held:
Me: "I don't know what happened here. I'm not mad and I don't hate you or anything, I'm just disappointed. But obviously I'm moving on from this. I like you, but there is only so much I can do to get you to be with me. See ya sometime, I guess."
Two hours pass...
Jay: "You're a great guy. Best of luck."
And it was officially over, whatever we had. I was tore up for a couple weeks (this event did not help my insecurity) but I found solace in friends, weed, and liquor.
Then the important stuff happened, right at the end of July.
Last summer, when my doctor was trying to figure out my generalized anxiety disorder, had me get a thyroid ultrasound. There was a small bump (also known as a nodule) on my right thyroid, but the doctor didn't seem concerned, he just wanted to keep an eye on it. I then forgot about it for a year.
For some reason, I reminded my doctor that I hadn't gotten a nodule on my thyroid checked out in year. After an ultrasound of my thyroid, I found out that the nodule had grown and I needed to see a thyroid specialist (who was a very handsome man, by the way). The first thing they did was scrape the nodule with a needle to collect cells and figure out the nature of the growing nodule. It was determined to be a tumor, but the nature of the tumor was unknown. I had to have surgery where half my thyroid would be removed. You have two sides to your thyroid, and when one is taken away, the other picks up the slack, like your kidneys. So really, it didn't seem like a big deal. I don't mind hospitals or surgery, and there's always killer pain medicine. And I got to miss a week of work.
I first should have suspected something when the thyroid specialist's office moved my follow-up post-operation appointment to an earlier date. I figured I could go on my own, that it was to much trouble to bother anyone in my family to go with me. So there I was, alone with the handsome thyroid specialist in a small, white room.
He told me I had thyroid cancer. I would have to get my other thyroid removed.
Here's some facts on thyroid cancer: it is a completely curable cancer with a 97% survival rate. But you couldn't have told me that that day.
I kept strong for a week, even making jokes about it. I guy at work lovingly called me "Cancer Geek" and it was generally unscary. And then, two nights before the second surgery, I had a nervous breakdown. I had cancer! Jesus Christ, I had cancer! I was facing my own mortality! After a night of crying and hyperventilating, I accepted that it would be inconvenient, painful, and expensive, but I would not die from thyroid cancer.
The second operation was harder for some reason. I was really out of it for a week. And living without a thyroid is no walk in the park. You feel tired and fatigued constantly. The good news: everything they removed from the second surgery was cancer-free, meaning that it didn't spread. But I would have to have a treatment called Radioactive Iodine treatment, and then after that I would have to take a pill every day for the rest of my life.
And that brings us to the present. I'm still sort of recovering from my last surgery (the wound is pretty wicked) and I'm really just adjusting to operating without a thyroid. I start the Radioactive Iodine treatment in a month, and then I start taking the synthetic hormone soon after.
And that, literally, has been my summer. Of course, lots of other bad shit happened, but it didn't really involve me, just a friend or a family member. So I would feel bad by association. But if the whole cancer fiasco showed me anything, it's that I have amazing family and friends who really do care about me. That was nice to know.
On a somewhat lighter note, I found a new favorite TV show. Being Human on BBC America is the story of a vampire, a werewolf, and a ghost sharing a flat in Bristol and trying desperately to fit into humanity. It's wildly entertaining. At first, I was pissed at it, having had the idea of monsters resenting their monsterness in a comic book series that floated in my head for years now. But I got over it when openly gay British actor Russell Tovey (who plays the werewolf) showed his butt in the first episode. That started a somewhat unhealthy obsession with him (what can I say? I'm lonely) but introduced me to other great movies and plays that he was a part of. Mostly, it just got me in the mood to write.
I'm going to do great things with my writing one day. I want to write everything: comic books, TV shows, movies, plays, etc. I just need to develop ambition and drive, and trust my instincts. And quit being a whiny bitch.
Sounds like a plan, right?
How was your summer?