It's got to go somewhere...

You can only squeeze a zit for so long; it's got to go somewhere. This is my first post to the dark side. Yes, an overused cliche but a good one. This is where the bad stuff goes. I will tell none of my friends who read my blog of sweetness and light because they like me and think I'm a nice person. I started that blog to let friends and family in on my progress after my last surgery. I could ask for a casserole or two and be witty all at the same time. After a while I started writing stories of my family to entertain. Folks kept reading. I realized they liked my sense of humor, mostly upbeat, a little black. However, there is more coal, tar, black ooze from five years of ovarian cancer bubbling up that needs to go somewhere and not any place that my sister's kids are going to find it. Or my sister for that matter. none of my friends really need to know what I think about at 1:00 am.

So I throw this stuff out to the void, to you. I could keep it to myself, just write it down. Why post it? Because I know you are out there. I know there is someone like me struggling with the reality of dying young who still has to go to work and get kids off the bus and doesn't get to go on goddamned Oprah to talk about "resilience."

If you, a friend or relative, find this blog, don't read it unless you are not afraid to find out what this all has really done to me. Seriously.

This is the first volley. Didn't smell too bad actually. Just wait.