Emotional Recovery 

            Today we had our first check up since my moms surgery. According to the doctor everything is turning out “beautifully”. Makes me happy to hear that. Although while we were there and they were taking the gauze off I had to help undress my mom. 

            Now, never did I think I would be doing such thing. But, her health is my priority. Once the gauze was off I got to see the wound. It wasn’t a pretty site. It was actually a little unsettling. If I was shaken up about it, I can only imagen how she felt. Like, a part of her, a part that made her her, is now gone. 

            Once the doctor was examining her, I sat there thinking, how would I feel if a part of me was no more? How would you feel? It’s something that you have to kind of train your brain to think about, and also later accept. Then I thought of all the women who get mastectomies and they have to remove both breasts. That must be wicked hard. And I have mad respect for them. If your one of them, you are strong and I am proud of you. 

            If your a guy reading this and you don’t understand because your a cold hearted and closed minded asshole, just picture someone taking one of your balls off, maybe even both. How would you feel? They are part of you. Part of what make you male. So for a women to get a breast or breasts removed is hard. Extremely hard. Because sure they can take your balls off no one would notice. But breasts are pretty visible. 

            Anyway, the doctor said there might not even be any need for chemo, but that would be up to the oncologist. We have to make an appointment to see him soon. 

            I could tell that my mom was shaken up about seeing her wound. She said she didn’t want to see it but she did anyway. I hugged her and encouraged her the most that I could. Got her to see the bright side of all this. This is all for the better and her health is the most important thing. She cheered up a bit once I started making my little jokes, I like to see her smile. 

            Now, hopefully we are on the path of recovery. I have to find some exercises for her arm so it won’t stiffen up. Also maybe a bra that will get her self estime up a little. I know this isn’t easy for her and I want to make it as easy and as painless as I can. Even though it’s a lot of physical recovery I feel that there will also be a lot of emotional recovery, and I will be there every step of the way to make it better.  



          Why are people so mean? Or is it that I just live in a ghetto city? Where people don’t give a fuck about what they say or what they do? Where they don’t care how they treat people, or let alone, if they hurt them? Where they only think about themselves?

          Or maybe I was raised right. I was raised to be respectful. I was raised to be kind and to care about others. To treat others the way you want to be treated. But what if you don’t get that in return? Still, I continue to be nice. Am I too good for this city? Or am I just too humble?

          At work there is a wide long cold distance between girls. Some don’t talk to each other because one didn’t say hi to the other for one day. Others because they simply forgot to invited them to a work birthday lunch, then all the sudden they are sworn enemies. All this is so stupid, but why do you girls live like this? It’s almost like they like it. But when they go home do they not feel the pain that the other person must be in? Wondering why they did the things that they did? 

          Then there are guys who, I don’t know why, but for fun they like to say ‘fuck you’ to each other. THERE IS NO POINT IN THIS. So why do it? Then there is that masculinity bullshit. My dick this my dick that, pussy, pussy, pussy. Who cares? Well, actually, who ever does care is one stupid person with no life goals. There’s more in life than your dick dude. 

          I just want to meet a genuine kind person. Not someone who at first will seem like a nice lovely rose, but then turn out to have the most vicious and sharpest thorns of them all. 

          I wish people would be nicer. I wish people would think before they say their hurtful words. I wish people could see how their words can affect people. I wish they could change. But it’s not up to me. That’s the sad part.