Hot take: remove your port ASAP
Brown leather AND a stress ball?! Luxury.
Evan and I have rebranded having strong and counter-cultural opinions on things that don’t matter as having “hot takes”. We have a hot take on just about everything.
Hot take: all breakfast burritos should use crispy hashbrowns instead of breakfast potatoes for the ultimate texture.
Hot take: Honey Nut Cheerios (HNC’s) are the perfect breakfast cereal.
Hot take: You can learn everything you need to know about a person’s general personality by what and how they drive.
The newest and hottest of hot takes is our take on Christmas trees. First, one should never end the life of a tree unless absolutely necessary, so fake and prelit or non-traditional trees are the way to go. As for ornaments, the tree should serve as a visual representation of your life, and looking at one should be like reading a biography. Marie Kondo-style, an ornament doesn’t belong unless when you pull it out of its dusty resting place to hang it evokes a memory and a story. For this reason, non of this “all the same color ornament” capitalism BS. A Christmas tree should look chaotic because life is chaotic.
Take a gander at our tree and the first thing you’ll notice is it’s in rough shape because we have 4 cats and cats are loveable dipshits that like to climb and claw all your nice things until you stop buying nice things and accept the fact that this is the life you’ve chosen. When you have 4 cats that very likely means that 50+% of your ornaments are cat-related - again - you’ve chosen this life and when people know you like something as much as we like cats all the gifts are related to that interest.**
Notable examples of ornaments include:
the felt dumpster fire with “2016” in glitter paint
an angel made out of a tampon I made at a holiday white elephant party in 2005
many of our race medals with lanyards removed and hooks added
a popsicle stick house I made in 2nd grade that I rescued from the infamous yard sale my mom and stepdad held where they tried to sell all our childhood ornaments and still has me traumatized and questioning their parenting
We have the Covid Christmas ornament, the 9/11 ornament, the Iowa corn ornament, the Precious Moments ornament salvaged from my aunt who was also getting rid of her adult children’s memories (AKA their precious moments - zing!), and finally today a cancer era Christmas ornament in the shape of my de-bloodied chest port removed just the hour before in a shockingly boring procedure at the same surgeon’s office who…installed?…it.
The surgeon was surprised to see me. “I thought your cancer was really bad, how are you here already?” he casually asked while needling numbing fluids into my chest. He wanted to know my oncologist - if I’d had scans - if I’m sure I wanted it out.
I wasn’t surprised. The cancer community is chocked full of hot takes and a big one is how long to keep in your port. According to “responsible people” the responsible thing to do is to leave it in as long as possible, ya know, just in case.
Just in case cancer comes back.
High likelihood cancer will come back.
Scans every 3 months to make sure the cancer isn’t back.
After going into remission, I stopped writing almost completely. I felt like if I talked about it, it will come back. I also thought, and many moments think, that if I eat an ice cream cone or run too many miles or get myself too worked up that I will cause cancer to return. Many days it feels impossible to not believe that I hold all the power and if I just do everything perfectly that I can prevent bad things from happening. This is what the optimization culture we live in will have all of us believe. That the fate of our health, our wealth, our happiness is totally in our control - that our bodies are machines and if I only have the right mindset I’m a winner who is impervious to bad outcomes.
This past week I was having a conversation with an acquaintance who I care about deeply who was sharing how stoked they are for the new taco bell potato soft taco. This almost 40-year-old man has eaten fast food or something like it for nearly every meal his whole life, drinks like a fish, works too much, never vacations, and is a bit of a “challenging” person to connect with. As he was talking I found myself getting angry - how is it that I get cancer and this guy is totally healthy and thriving with his biggest worry being that the Carl’s Jr closed last week? Why do some “bad” people get to grow old and here I am having to worry about cancer coming back for the rest of my life? It’s not fair. I ate all the kale, I always tip 20%, I am an athlete. This is bullshit.
Hot take if you get cancer: immediately get a therapist. It was my therapist who, when I share my anxieties, gently reminds me that anxiety only exists when thinking about the future. She reminds me that I don’t have to believe that everything happens for a reason or spend any of my valuable time living wondering why. Cancer happens AND cat snuggles and laughter with friends and soft Christmas lighting also happen. I can love the dark thoughts as much as some people love potato soft tacos.
Last time having a chunky neck vein. (new band name)
I choose to get my port removed because, hell, why not. I’m an optimist after all. I’m giving myself permission to believe that cancer will never come back and trusting that, if it does, life will go on and I can handle it.
Hot take on how to celebrate a literal and metaphorical end of treatment: ice cream dance party.
Arbitrary footnotes:
**The “I like owls” phase from 2009-2011 is the real estate on the back of the tree. It got out of hand quickly until I held an intervention with loved ones to ask them to please, for the love of Christmas, stop buying me owl shit.