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The Day I Realized I'm a Punk

August 15, 2017


So let me tell y'all why I'm a punk pussy bitch. First off, you should already know because I started crying when I was getting my molds. But this next story just confirms it. 


It was the day that I had to get my MRI, CT scan, and Chest X Ray. I left work and went to the hospital. My aunt was going to meet me but I told her not to. I'm like, I'm a big girl. I'm an adult, I can do this on my own. But when I got there I felt so nervous and I'm just like "shit, why didn't I let her come meet me?!".


When I walked into the hospital I looked lost, I know I did. Then this volunteer came up to me and asked me where I needed to be and he took me all the way there. I was so grateful because without him I was going to be late! He's my friend now (in my head). His name is Paul and I see him every time I go to the cancer center. 


In the waiting room there were these two ladies talking. We were in the cancer center so obviously all the patients there are being treated for their different types of cancers. But these two ladies were making me feel SO uncomfortable. One was telling the other how they had to put a tube in her stomach then they had to take it out and all this other nasty stuff. The other lady was listening so closely and kept asking "will they have to do that to me!?". In the back of my mind I'm thinking the same thing. "My cancer is in my mouth, they deff are going to have to put a feeding tube in me. Whaaaaaaa this can't be lifeeee." Then I just put my beats on because I couldn't bare to hear another word. "LaShondra you can come back now". Yes, finally. 


So here's the punk pussy bitch part. I go back and the nurse takes me to a room. She says "Take off all your clothes on the top, leave on your bottoms. Take all medal out. Make sure you have no jewelry or bobby pins". Shit. I had to take my nipple rings out. They close so fast I was nervous for it. I had no other choice though. 


When I was 6 years old I had to get a paternity test. It wasn't the high tech one where they swab your mouth. They had to draw blood. I was good about it like I didn't care about getting it until I sat down and this lady was poking my arm for over an hour straight. She could not find my vein. I was hysterical. My grandma had to hold me down, but you know when you're six years old, shit like needles going in your arm isn't really fun. So to this day when I see someone going to find my vein, and tapping on my arm I get flashbacks and start to hyperventilate  I was traumatized by that situation. 


Anyway, left the dressing room and went to start getting the test done. She sat me down and said she had to prick my finger to check my liver. Okay, liver was fine. Then she said she had to put and IV in me. I'm like why? She says so that they can put dye in me. So I'm like okay. Then she tied that rubber band on my arm and I was like "I have to go poop!". So I went in the bathroom, and the only thing I did in there was cry. I came out a couple minutes later and she says "we're going to do this with you laying down". So we go and lay down and I'm still crying. She's like "I'm not even touching you" lmao. I still kept crying so then the other lady was like what's wrong? I'm just like "My lifeeeeeeee. My life is overwhelming right now". Lmao so dramatic I know. Then the lady putting the IV in goes I think I found a vein. I stopped crying so quick and was like "Don't think you need to know".  I felt so bad after saying that to her. I didn't mean to be mean but I do not play with needles and blood, and putting stuff in me, and taking stuff out.  So she found the vein, put the IV in and I didnt even feel it. All of that bitching for nothing.  


So she put me in the MRI machine and she said I was doing really well.  Then, then, THEN, she goes "Okay were going to put the dye in you" the next thing I know I felt like Peter Parker. I was like "aaahhhhhhhh, oh my godddd". She stopped the machine and pulled me out. "The needle is still inside of you" I'm like yeah but that stuff hurts! Then I started crying... again. We finished the MRI and then I went to wait on the CT scan. For the CT scan they did the same thing.  This time she knew the dye was going to hurt so she put pressure on my arm so it wouldn't burn as bad. It still burned but I appreciated her trying to comfort me.  Lastly I had to do the X Ray. The X Ray was a breeze. Then I was done.  

I went back to the dressing room and got dressed.  I'm not sure why, but I started crying while I was putting my clothes on. I was so mad at myself that I didn't let my aunt come with me. It would have been nice to have her there smiling in my face after all of that.  Oh, it took 20 min to put my nipple rings back in. In the end I had to just push it through and bear with the pain.  I figured I would be in pain for a while so fuck it why not.  Then I went back to work, like nothing was wrong. 


Now, I love social media as much as the next guy. But I hadn't posted anything on social media about my situation. The only way you would know if something was wrong with me was if you listened to my podcast (which barely any of my friends do, so are they my real friends?).  I had mentioned that I was going to the doctor and shit like that but I didn't say why. I knew I had cancer but I did't want the world to know yet. That day I wanted to post on social media so bad about how I was just overwhelmed. The whole situation was overwhelming.  I'm glad I didn't. I just called my friend and talked to her a bout everything that was working me up.  She helped talk me through it and I felt better and that helped me come to this: At the end of the day, this is the situation that God has given me so I'm going to take it and run with it. That's what I have done with everything else, why was I making this situation so different?



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