Surgeons and waiters

I am so tired I will probably fall asleep during this. It is unusual that I would stay out until after eleven on a school night.

I had to meet the cancer surgoen today. Having been a psych nurse for so long, i forgot how entitled surgeons are. Well, male ones, anyway. Barbie, my plastic surgeon was right on time for our appointment and told me everything I needed to know, including that those "lifestyle lifts" they advertise on TV at 3 am are really a scam. So then on to the cancer surgeon. Surgeons need you to think that they are busy saving lives at all times so that they can not possibly be on time. We waited in the waiting room for 45 minutes. My friend Cindy was with me. We got bored. First we stocked up on medical supplies we needed- bandaids and bacitracin mainly its not like they leave anything good out. By the time Dr. Surgeon arrived, I was on the floor, trying to fix the computer so I could check my email but the mouse was broken. Apparently he was used to patients getting bored waiting for him as he thought it was perfectly normal to walk in and find me there.

usually my doctors love me but i don't think he did. I basically wanted him to put me at the front of the list for surgery because you know what, I am done with having cancer. At first it was sort of ok, a different way of looking at things and yes an excuse for people to be nicer to me than they might be otherwise. Done. Over. Now it is just fucking boring. I don't need another month to recuperate from one treatment so that I can get another treatment, and then recover for another few months from that treatment to then get something else. Just put me in the hospital, operate the shit out of me, radiate the shit out of me and then stick on my new boob and I'm done. Cancer in the fast lane. That's what I want. But, no........ They have to take their sweet time. And they also seem to think that people have no trouble "being out of work for 3-4 weeks," after just getting back to work after being out of work 3-4 weeks, after just getting back to work after..... ad nauseum. It is an unfortunate thing but it seems as though most people can't continuously take months off from work and keep getting paid. If anyone had listened to me when I demanded my own reality show, I would not be in this predicament. However, apparently wife-swapping midget drug addicts from the Jersey Shore are more interesting than me. Plus for several weeks, I have instructed my friends to find me an extremely wealthy husband but for some reason rich guys are not falling all over each other to marry very lovely bald middle-aged women with one boob, even if the baldness and booblessness are temporary. How superficial.

So anyway I was so stressed out after the surgeons that it was necessary to go out and spend as much money as possible on a nice dinner with wine from Argentina. Why argentina? No fucking idea. That is what you get when you are candid with the waiter and admit you can't tell the difference between one Chardonnay and another. So there we are at dinner and I read that if you ordered the special desert, Boston Creme Pie, the profits were to be donated to Breast Cancer Research. I swear to god, its true. Call legal Seafood in Copley Square if you don't believe me. So obviously that begs the question, do people with breast cancer get the desert for free? Seems fair to me. Apparently no one had ever asked our waiter this question before. Oh, I know I was going to stop making people be nice to me because I had cancer, but come on, the Argentinian wine sucked and it cost about 12 bucks a glass not that I had too many. And if people are going to have these vague statements about breast cancer on their menu, they better come up with a policy. Like I am sure that every time someone ordered the boston creme pie which wasn't even that good, the staff put 8.99 in a separate area to be donated to breast cancer research the next day. You know they don't. They want you to think they do nice things for breast cancer people but you can't really hold them to it. Unless you ask for the free desert. That they had to run by the manager. Who thought I was at worst, crazy, and at best drunk. But you know, i did it for the cause. So bottom line, i guilted them out of the desert but tipped enough to cover it. I had to do it for the cause. For all those other cancer patients too shy, too polite or too sober to ask for a free desert. You can thank me later.