(16-03-04) Reality TV Shows

(warning: spoiler alert)

I’ve never watched Grey’s Anatomy in my life.  I don’t have any fiercely charged opposition to it … but considering the fact that i can get queasy when someone starts talking about veins or blood or intestines for more than five seconds, i figure it’s a safe decision to stay away from this particular show – no matter how many people and awards ceremonies give it props.  However, i was totally drained from my first full week back to work, so when Hulu’s autoplay transitioned from How To Get Away With Murder to Grey’s Anatomy, i was – quite frankly – too lazy to get off my bed to turn the show off.

Somebody please tell me WHY – out of ALL the episodes from TWELVE SEASONS of that show – i just happen to watch the episode where someone fucking *dies* because their port implant (the one they had put in for their cancer treatment) got infected.  First, Steph on The Fosters gets diagnosed with the same exact type of cancer i had, prompting her to have to get a double mastectomy … and now, four weeks later, i find myself once again dropping to the ground and bawling at some new fictional TV show character finding out she’s cancer-free after ten months of treatment (only to then turn around and die from an unexpected port infection).  I’m watching my life’s events – real and imagined – play out on TV.  It fucking sucks.

I think i’ll go get that *second* bowl of triple-flavored ice cream now.

Author: breastcancerat35

I was diagnosed with Stage 3C Invasive Breast Cancer in October/November, 2015. This blog is my way to process my experience and allow my loved ones to have ongoing updates about my journey.

One thought on “(16-03-04) Reality TV Shows”

  1. Wow… it’s really crazy how that stuff pops up at just the right (read: wrong) time. To be honest, for the last three months I’ve noticed more billboards, heard more advertisements, and read more books than I care to recall that mention cancer and cancer treatment, without even trying. Each time it catches me by surprise, and each time tears swell in my eyes and a lump forms in my throat and I manage to mumble a “fuck you Cancer Treatment Centers of America for reminding me” everytime I see their sign on the highway to and from work. I have no doubt that cancer jumps out at you from all directions daily, but somehow you manage to maintain your super-hero diva identity despite the changes to your entire sense of self. You are my super hero. WWTD! (bumper stickers coming soon to a neighborhood near you.)

    Like

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