Song Lyrics That Speak to Me – Call Me When You’re Sober by Evanescence

Call Me When You’re Sober by Evanescence

Call me when you're sober

Don’t cry to me.
If you loved me,
You would be here with me.
You want me,
Come find me.
Make up your mind.

Should I let you fall?
Lose it all?
So maybe you can remember yourself.
Can’t keep believing,
We’re only deceiving ourselves .
And I’m sick of the lie,
And you’re too late.

Don’t cry to me.
If you loved me,
You would be here with me.
You want me,
Come find me.
Make up your mind.

Couldn’t take the blame.
Sick with shame.
Must be exhausting to lose your own game.
Selfishly hated,
No wonder you’re jaded.
You can’t play the victim this time,
And you’re too late.

Don’t cry to me.
If you loved me,
You would be here with me.
You want me,
Come find me.
Make up your mind.

You never call me when you’re sober.
You only want it cause it’s over,
It’s over.

How could I have burned paradise?
How could I – you were never mine.

So don’t cry to me.
If you loved me,
You would be here with me.
Don’t lie to me,
Just get your things.
I’ve made up your mind.

This one is for those to whom most of it applies, and I don’t mean the alcoholic bit.

Copyright Ridingthebcrollercoaster.com 2012 All Rights Reserved.

Word of the Day (March 29, 2013): swivet

cropped-swivet-header-771827

– noun:

[SWIV-it]

Definition:

A state of nervous exceitment, haste, or anxiety; flutter.  I was in such a swivet that I could hardly speak.

Examples:

1. This sent her into a larger swivet, but its ferocity now didn’t faze Susan.  She now knew the deal.

– Douglas Coupland, Miss Wyoming, 2010

2. Benny had warned Patsy about this; the mother, he said, was in a swivet about the plea.

– Michelle Nuneven, Blame, 2010

[From Dictionary.com]

This word strikes me as very Jane Austenian, but maybe that’s just me.

Related Articles:

Thank you for saying it . . . all of it. I’m currently stuck dealing with the aftermath of treatment while having had a biopsy in the Other Boob only yesterday.
And I resemble that remark – all of it: only child, always the “other,” the one in the corner speaking the ugly truth rather than the pretty mainline . . .

anotheronewiththecancer

Author’s note:

If you are a breast cancer “survivor” who embraces that ideal image–the pink products, the racing for the cure, etc.– I am truly happy for you. I mean that sincerely, without my usual dose of sarcasm. And just as sincerely, I beg you to stop reading this post, you will probably find it offensive. As nearly always, there will be foul language, because that is how I speak.

This post is for the ones who got breast cancer, and went into it doubting, or maybe at first embracing, what I shall henceforth refer to as The Image. It is for those of us who at some point realized we could not live up to The Image. And for those patients lost and unsure, feeling set adrift, away from the pink anchor. This post is for them–you–us. -anotheronewiththecancer, AKA cancer curmudgeon

Why do I propose this burial? Because I…

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A Little Red Equals Sign

facebook_logo

This morning I woke up to find the Coolest Post on my Facebook!

Someone I used to work with at a former job has posted that he was so inspired by the number of people in his Facebook world who had changed their profile pictures to be the red equals sign (or some variant thereof) in honor of SCOTUS hearing the (originally) Prop. 8 case from California on Tuesday of this week and the DOMA case yesterday that . . .

. . . he felt loved and supported enough to . . .

parents

. . . COME OUT TO HIS PARENTS!

He shared that the support and love he had felt from his Facebook world enabled him to take this giant step and his parents were ready to hear it – it all turned out great!

I thanked him in a comment on the post for sharing this (and reminding me indirectly that we don’t always see the effect we have – this time I got to – but that one person Can change the world, or at least Somebody’s world) with us who may have had something to do with it, and congratulating him on his courage!

Despite what’s going on in my life, this put a big smile on my face, and I have a sense that this will warm my heart for some time to come whenever I think of it again.

March 21, 2013: Mammogram/Ultrasound

*****

Nope, Those Aren't Mine.

Nope, Those Aren’t Mine.

Well, things have been pretty quiet here since missing my Grandmother’s unveiling.  That one hit me hard – the repercussions of which are still setting my head spinning . . . but that is a subject for another post on another day (that is Still processing).

On to today’s topic.  My post-active-treatment (except for my second and hopefully last reconstructive surgery) life Does in fact go on, one day at a time.

Since my last post, we’ve had The Great Anti-Hormonal Experiment of 2013 – which was an unqualified failure, and is now over!  (Ten days on Tamoxifen before I became near completely non-functional, then [after a detox period] Six days on Raloxifene [Pre-menopausal use is apparently a new off-label use of what was only a post-menopausal drug] to start going down the same road as Tamoxifen).

Tamoxifen

My medical oncologist doesn’t know I stopped taking the second one.  Why not?  Well, making that phone call, then being basically “on call” during my working hours for his call-back to tell him that was not going to change the fact that I’m not taking it anymore.  I need to not be “on call” for a doctor calling me back every goddamn workday of my life.  And I’m seeing him again in two weeks (geez, has it really been almost three months since my last in-person visit with him Already?!) anyway, so I’ll tell him then.

Which basically skims over some shit I’ve been dealing with, the details of which may or may not ever “grace” the pages of this, my blog, to turn a phrase (:)), and catches us up to last week.

I made yesterday’s appointment six months ago – in August of last year – at my last cancer surgery follow up appointment.

First, they call me the week before the appointment to tell me that I have to come in an hour earlier than it was scheduled (thereby taking Another hour off work – which I have to make up) because there won’t be a radiologist there to read the films.  I’m sorry, what?

So, I deal with this, then try to make sure I’m getting Both a mammogram And an ultrasound.

You see, I have dense breasts, so having a mammogram alone actually isn’t even going to tell us what we want to know.  Therefore, I’m not going to go in and get my tender girls mauled for basically no good reason (and to Not get the information we’re trying to get).

Then I show up to see the work Unilat on my paperwork?  Is that, um, “Unilateral?”  As in they’re just going to test one side?  Um, no.

They’re both here, check them both.

I’m told that insurance won’t pay for checking the right boob (i.e., the one on the right side of my body, and the one that did not have cancer in it last year) because it has been less than a year since it was checked and I can come back in June (in three months from now) to check that one.

june_calendar_2013_H6X

So, you’re saying my two breasts are going to be on separate mammogram schedules?  Um, please refer to my comment above – NO!  That’s just stupid, and although I didn’t do stupid well before cancer – let me tell you I do it even less well now.  They’re both here now and I’m not going anywhere until they’re both checked out – thanks for playing!

I went half-postal on almost half a dozen people in that place getting them to understand that we were checking Both of my breasts, and if necessary I would have the “that’s just Stupid!” conversation with my insurance company.

But it turns out it won’t be necessary.  You see, they found something in my right breast on the ultrasound.  They tell me it looks like a cyst and my cancer surgeon gave me a choice of “wait and watch” or biopsy.

Hm, let me think – I’ve had breast cancer WITHIN THE LAST CALENDAR YEAR!  So, I’m NOT so much in a ‘wait and watch’ frame of mind – let’s stick that bitch and know for sure!

So, tomorrow morning at 8:00 am I’m having my second breast biopsy in less than a year.

Word of the Day (March 26, 2013): wrest

Wrest [rest]

Definition: To take away by force

verb:

1. to take away by force: to wrest a knife from a child.

2. to twist or torn; pull, jerk or force by a violent twist.

verb:

1. to get away be effort; to wrest a living from the soil.

2. to twist or turn from the proper course, application, use, meaning, or the like: wrench.

noun:

1. a wresting; twist or wrench.

2. a key or small wrench for tuning stringed musical instruments, as the harp or piano, by turning the pins to which the strings are fastened.

Examples:

1. Can I possibly go back and wrest from my past some remnant of a better beginning?

– Ken Kesey, Sometimes a Great Notion, 2006

2. He could wrest beauty from anything.

– Fiona Maazel, Last Last Change, 2009

From Dictionary.com

Book Excerpts: Barefoot Season by Susan Mallery

*****

Barefoot Season by Susan Mallery

” . . . Once in the truck, she glanced at the house.  From the outside, it wasn’t much.  But to her it was everything she needed.  A place to retreat and lick her wounds.  Somewhere she didn’t have to pretend.  Sanctuary. . . .”

Thankfully, I have somewhere like that – my bed at home.  I’ve been spending a lot of time in it the last six months or so.  It’s a place I can go and shut the world out.  I’ve needed to do that for physical and emotional healing while I deal with the cancer and its effects on my body and mind – my life.  I’m glad it’s here for me, as I expect to need it off and on for quite a while yet.

” . . . “I’m sure her time in the army has changed her.”
Carly rinsed out the dishcloth and hung it over the sink.  “How do you know that?  You barely knew her before.”
“How could war not change someone?”

Right, so the current language is that a cancer patient “fights” the cancer.  ‘Nuff said.  Or if you don’t get what I’m saying from that, please see “Awakening.”

“She had to admit, looking better made her feel a little better.  More here rather than in some kind of emotional limbo.”

Emotional limbo – been there, know that place.  It’s not Always a bad place to be.  Sometimes it’s a way station for where one needs to go while necessary subsurface processing happens.

“. . .” You’re not stupid and you’re not alone.  We all do things that don’t make sense to other people.”

I’m sensing a theme here.  I like it.  I resemble that remark.

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