I saw my oncologist last week. When I meet with her, normally my sister goes with me to take notes and for mutual emotional support if needed, but that day the doctor wanted to see me way too early for sis to deal with, so my boyfriend took me. Which is not a complaint. Sis sacrifices a lot for me and is much appreciated. It’s better for both of us to not wake her up at dawn!
Plus I think this was good for the boyfriend. Men like to feel needed. In my case, since I’m dealing with metastatic brain, lung, and liver cancer, I need all the help I can get!
Anyway, one thing my oncologist told me — I am charting unknown territory. I looked at her in confusion. She clarified a bit by saying she wants me to call if anything out of the ordinary happens as they want to catch things early. I was still a little confused but my boyfriend filled in the blanks.
My surgeon and oncologists had forecast I would be dead within 6 months. Certainly, after 3 months I was supposed to be on hospice. They signed me up for palliative care when they discharged me from surgery. They were anticipating at this point I’d be in a cot in my living room with a morphine drip and a bedpan — at least this was what the nurse told me when I insisted on brutal honesty.
I am very happy to blow their expectations out of the water. But then, I’ve always been a bitch. Just in the nicest, most polite way possible.
You see, a bitch is what they call you when you are an independent woman who doesn’t want you to do her thinking for her, thank you very much. A bitch looks the gift horse in the mouth. She doesn’t let any man, or any other woman, categorize her and fit her into their preconceived notions.
The second time I was diagnosed with cancer, the very handsome, very well known and credentialed and reputed male doctor told me he’d scheduled my surgery, chemo, and radiation.
“I think you’re under a misapprehension,” I said. “I have not decided my treatment but I do know I am not doing chemo again.”
He looked like I was an alien. He turned to my ex-husband for support. My husband, bless him, took my side.
“I think you should address her concerns,” he said. “She has questions and I’m here to take notes, not make her decisions.”
The doctor put on his grim face.
“I can’t treat you,” he said. “My experience tells me you are going to die in painful ways unless you follow the course I have mentioned. If you refuse, you cannot be my patient.”
“I guess I need to find another doctor, then.” I said.
We walked out and I found another doctor. One who supported my choices. Because, you know, it’s my body.
Sometimes life is hard. For anyone, male or female.
According to Vera Donavan, masterfully created by Stephen King, “sometimes you have to be a high-riding bitch, to survive… Sometimes, being a bitch, is all a woman has to hang onto.”
I never thought I was a bitch, but I’ve been called that name when I:
- didn’t give up my candy to a first grade boy
- refused to let a boy cheat off me in high school
- refused to let a college kid interrupt me
- refused to go on a date with a guy I found unattractive
- refused to pretend I was wrong and he was right with another guy who wanted to date me
- called out a coworker when he tried to give me the run around
- refused to give in to a woman who thought she deserved my promotion
I haven’t been given a lot of special privileges. Most of what I’ve accomplished, I’ve earned despite racism, sexism, and growing up working class. These experiences have not made me bitter, and I don’t hate anyone, but I do defend myself and I try to defend others when I can.
The way I look at it — being a bitch can be the kindest thing you can do not only for yourself, but for others, because it empowers you to be honest. Being truthful isn’t always appreciated, but if you truly want to help others as well as yourself — it let’s you do that with integrity.
Just my two cents worth.
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This post was previously published on MEDIUM.COM.
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