POD Wonderful is an Angry Drunk

Turns out I have to take a rain-check on the Oregon trip. Chris wants to go alone or maybe he already invited his buddy, Satan. I guess we'll find out later. All I know for sure is that I was officially uninvited over this weekend.

I am not sad. I am happy that I will not be sleeping in a tent on the ground 1500 feet away from the nearest (sans leaves and branches) bathroom. I am not watching people drink warm beer in the hot sun. I am not eating campfire-type foodstuffs, beans and wieners, stuffing marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers in an effort to stifle my twisted perception of this camping reality. I am also not dirty, smelly, or having to take a shower in the pay-for-your-shower that Chris told me (another part of the ploy to get me to stay home, heh?) are barrack-style (not since high school!) and everyone has to shower with everyone else! Eww, Ick. OMG. I can't do it. (I wonder if I could go for 5 days straight without a shower?) My toes would curl. My dimpled butt would, would..., Hey wait just a minute...my butt might be the envy of all my fellow showerers, and the talk inside the tents at night. But I am not a showpiece. I am not someone to parade about so others can lust and fantasize over. I am also not annoyed, pushed out of shape or taken out of my comfort zone. I am not camping.

I am at one with the universe about this decision.

Instead of Oregon, among many other events and outings I have planned, this Friday I will be walking the survivors lap for the American Cancer Society. If you're in the mood you can visit my personal (donation) page although it is not up to survivors to raise donations for this event -- I thought I'd give it a stab, maybe chip in a little. (So far I am the only one who has donated to me). I'm hoping to walk with a friend I met originally in chemo who has been a phenomenal support to me for the past two years. If I had gone to Oregon, I could not have taken part in this walk nor could I do all the other fabulous events I have planned with which to partake.

One of which is not attend a support group of any kind.

I went to a support group this past week where there was a lot of complaining. I am trying to re-evaluate the benefit of support groups for myself when, and if everyone sits around and whines. It has been my experience that there's not a whole lotta support in whining. Yet it's very difficult to tell the whiners that they are wasting a lot of (my) precious time with their whining. Try as I might, I couldn't quite crack the code of this one particular time hog, although my questioning caused the meeting facilitator to ask the entire group what *we* (as survivors) thought was a good use of our time? That question got people pondering their existence, answering the question, and maybe even making more conscious decisions. At least there was some movement behind the "what do you do with the time you have left (you big whining doofus)?" question. My vote is start without whining because when we start with the whining, there is no support. Short of life in a prison cell, there is nothing more time-sucking than support group one-up-man-ship around the topic of 'my illness dilemma is far worse than your illness and here are the bazillion reasons why.'

*snore*

Now *I*sound like I'm whining. So I'll shut up.

Speaking of precious time, I started writing this blog as an outlet for the suffering I felt when dealing with a cancer diagnosis. At the time I didn't have any idea what I was doing (not that I have any idea now). As far as I am aware, I don't have any cancer inside me (that's sticking around) for this moment in time which is really all I know I can count on. The issue is, this blog was started purely because I was miserable and needed an outlet. It was not necessarily a cancer blog or a lymphedema blog or a haha I-am-funnier-than-sh*t blog (though I am, admit it). After writing about cancer and lymphedema for awhile and even some posts now, I have this voice playing in the back of my head, "you are not your illness." (I try to tell it to shut up but the voice has a mind of it's own.)

The POMblogger wrote me a few weeks ago, and said since I "was writing a health blog," she wanted to know if I wanted some POM Wonderful, and my thoughts on the product? Sure enough, POM Wonderful sent me some POM Wonderful. I did not have a give-away to attract readers to my blog mostly because the POM Wonderful is supposed to be refrigerated during it's journey across the miles, and secondly, I'm not going up against those real health bloggers (Miz and Crab) -- (and BL) and all their real, non-refrigerated giveaways. I do have things I could give away if you want something. I have unused cassette tapes. Want those?

It's ironic to start a blog whining about a cancer diagnosis, then lymphedema and other assorted disasters, and then, to have a company touting a healthy product, recognize me as a health blogger, sending POM Wonderful to POD Wonderful. Who's to say that the POM Wonderful isn't responsible for curing all my ailments (except this broken arm)?

But now get this...what's totally cosmic in the scheme of things, is that I am POD and she is POM. This must be kismet! In real life, the POMBlogger's real name is the exact same nickname that I was christened with while growing up (which I told the POMblogger I absolutely hated) (and it's not all that common of a name) (unlike POD & POM) (which are becoming household names) (of late) (which is pretty cool when you think about it).

I thanked the POMblogger for sending out the POM Wonderful. Pouring it into a chilled tall glass heaping with good ice (that comes in the transparent blue bag)and some lightly citrus-flavored vodka was pure joy. The day was warm, the drink was delicious and cool. The combination was great.

However, since that day (and I might add, just this past week) I have sworn off drinking booze. I have discovered that I am (officially) an angry drunk. (It's not the POM Wonderful. It's the booze.) Waiting for the anger to rear it's head doesn't take but about a half of any alcoholic drink, (and I'm a cheap date in the alcohol department). The anger usually slips in just before the first half of the drink...much like the person in the theater, sitting next to you, talking about the next scene because they saw the movie already, spoiling each moment in time.

I am thinking that it would be difficult to be a real (a)live, committed health blogger and an angry drunk at the same time. Try as I might, I can't connect those dots. The combo *could* make for some interesting blog posts though I'm not sure I want to spend more time whining, endure anymore of anyone else's whining, and spending what precious time I have left in one more support group, AA.