Kat, or maybe it was akabukowski, once said to me that everyone thinks their life would make a good book.
She is probably right. What do you think?
Here is your chance.
Let's all tell stories from our experiences as we traveled through time.
Ahh, but there has to be rules. They will be pretty loose, but rules there must be.
1. It can be any experience that you want to tell us about.
2. It can be as short as one line. Or as long as fifty. Anything over thirty will be deleted.
3.You do not have to end the story at fiftyy lines, but you have to quit writing at the end of fiftyy lines. You can not post again until at least one other person has posted something.
This ensures that everyone gets a chance.
4.You can continue on the same subject or jump to a new one.
5. Nothing is required to be in chronological order.
6. Very Graphic Sexual discriptions should be posted in the sex talk group. You can direct us to go there if we want to read about it.
7. No one will be checking the facts
8. Additional rules will be posted and implemented as I see fit.
Step right up and post. who knows, the next knock on your door may be Spielberg asking for the movie rights.
Sorry, Rob, I don't think it's that complicated. I know for a fact that words can not only hurt, but leave ever lasting impressions. You have probably heard this before, but I'm gonna repeat it here because I think it is appropriate.
I was 10. Hadn't seen my father since the divorce when I was 4. My mom had told me horror stories about this guy for years. He came for a very short visit, (maybe an hour) and he seemed quite normal to me. After he left, I asked my mom a question about him. Don't remember the question, but I will never forget her answer.
"If i thought you would grow up to be like your father, I would just kill you now.".
Hmmmm, I think I would have rather have been hit with sticks and stones. Those scars would have faded.
I think adults can be seriously hurt by words as well.
It's easy to say, "ignore it", or "brush it off", but it isn't always easy to do...
The chemo and radiation were not much of a big deal for the first two weeks. Maybe a little tired, but that’s it. I was getting zapped 3 times a week, and the chemo was being delivered through a central line. I had a little belt device with a pump that gave me a small dose of poison every 7 minutes. Yes, poison. I was getting a drug 5FU (I called it 5 F… Me) And is one of the oldest chemo drugs. I say poison because it was derived from mustard gas. Anyway, On Wed. of the second week, I went for radiation, and there was a malfunction. The computer said the table was locked in place, but the techs could see that it wasn’t. They called in a couple extra people, and seemed to get it fixed in about a half an hour. By now, I had been through this enough times to know what to expect. The machine would start out directly under the table, hum for 30 seconds, and then rotate to my right side, hum for 30 seconds, rotate to my left side and hum again. Well, on Fri. the machine never stopped humming. It hummed all the way through the rotations. I told the tech about it, and he said he hadn’t a clue, as none of them were ever in the room when the machine was running, so he didn’t know what it sounded like. By Sat., I felt like crap. Sun. was worse. I drug my sorry butt into the hospital on Mon. and they said I was too weak to receive treatment. The chemo DR. called and told me he was stopping my chemo too. I had what the DR’s called small bowel spasms. They were stomach cramps that were severe enough to bend me over and make me moan. The cramps would last anywhere from a minute, to a minute and a half, and they came every five to six minutes. This lasted for six weeks, and I ended up in the hospital with liver failure. At the time, my Dr. kept telling me my numbers were high, but that there was still some room for me, but after I got out of the hospital, he told me two different times that he thought I was going to lose my liver and die. Anyway, I got strong enough to restart the radiation, but the chemo Dr. refused to treat me. He looked me straight in the eye, and said… Mr. Morris, I thought you were a stronger man than this. That’s when I started going to Cleveland Clinic for my chemo. At first the head of oncology said it was too late to resume treatment. That my window of opportunity had passed. But a couple days later, he called and said he had reviewed my charts and said he wanted to treat me. I was still getting the 5 FU, but getting it 3 times a week, not with the pump. He said he wanted to give me three separate six weeks sessions, with a week off between each session. Not long after I started, I started getting dizzy spells. These only lasted a half second, but it felt as if my brain was twitching sideways, inside my head. I mentioned this to the nurse that was overseeing my chemo, and she said it wasn’t the chemo. Back then I was taking an antidepressant, and she blamed the spells on that. Of course my shrink said it wasn’t his meds, and that it had to be the chemo. As time went on, the spells became more frequent. I got through my first six week session, and was one week short of finishing my second, and I told the nurse that I had over 40 spells in a day. She finally consulted with the head of oncology, and he stopped treatment immediately. Just told me that my body wasn’t responding well to the 5 FU, and sent me home. I had to get a new oncologist to set me up for yearly colonoscopies, and I told him about my brain twitching inside my skull. He said it was a fairly rare condition called cerebellar ataxia. I did some googling, and found that this condition is basically lesions to the brain. Soooo… I was walking around for months with this poison eating holes in my brain. No wonder I’m goofy.
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