Three Years Later: Why I Don’t Need A Pap Exam


Super Stann:  Kicking Cancer’s Ass for the past 3 years

Thanks to Facebook, I was reminded the other day that it has been 3 years since I was diagnosed with uterine cancer.  Gee thanks Facebook?  But yasssssss!  3 years and counting CANCER FREE!!  The funny thing was this memory came right on the same day that I had my duck lip exam.  Yes, I still have to have an exam yearly because I still have my ovaries and I need my annual boobie squish.  But guess what I don’t need?  A pap exam.  And guess who just could not grasp that concept?  The medical assistant in the doctor’s office.  Seriously.

In case you aren’t aware, the pap exam is where us women get the oh so wonderful experience of having not only the duck lips inserted and cranking you open like you are on display, but then you get to get cells scraped off your cervix to be examined.  Guys, let us just say it would be akin to someone sticking something up your penis to scrape cells off of it.  There.  Does that give you a good visual? It is not pleasant and most of us dread this part of the exam.  The best thing about having had a hysterectomy three years ago?  I have no baby box.  My uterus and cervix were removed and so I don’t have to worry about things like pap smears or getting pregnant any more.  My exams just involve a quick look and feel by the doctor and I am sent on my merry way. Simple and easy.  Until this appointment.  This one was so not simple.

I sat and filled out the paper that they make you fill out every time about why you are there and all that business and then I got called to the back for my appointment.  The part I hate the most is the damn scale.  Why does the scale in the doctor’s office always weigh you heavier.  I swear I wanted to tell them that to make women feel better, they should weigh us once we get all naked with our little gowns and drapes on.  I mean then I wouldn’t feel like I had gained like 25 pounds with my jeans, shoes and purse on.  After making me feel like a giant cow by weighing me, I went into the exam room where the confusion about me needing a pap exam started.  The Medical Assistant (MA) asked me when my last pap smear was and I answered 3 years ago before my hysterectomy.  She looked concerned , made some notes in my chart and turned to me and remarked how long it had been.  Yup.  Because I had a hysterectomy.  I figured maybe she didn’t hear me or look at my paper that I filled out that said I had one, so I just nodded. She continued to prep me with things like blood pressure and the like while still asking me questions and filling out things in the computer.  Then this occurred:

MA:  “Since it has been three years since your last pap exam, I am going to set one up because you will need one.”

Me:  “No, I don’t need a pap exam.  I had a hysterectomy.”

MA (emphatically and now speaking to me like I am stupid):  “Yes, but it has been three years since your last one so the Doctor is going to want one. That is part of your well woman exam.”

Me with raised eyebrows:  “Yes, I am quite aware that it is part of the well woman exam.  I don’t need one because I had a hysterectomy three years ago.”

MA (insistent):  “I don’t think you understand what a pap smear is so I am just going to set it all up because you NEED one.  It has been three years.  We check for cancer with these you know.”

Me (uber frustrated):  “Yes, I am a nurse so I completely understand why you do a pap smear.  I. Had. A. Hysterectomy.  You know, where they remove your uterus and cervix? No need for a pap smear.”

MA (utterly confused by my words): “If you are a nurse, then you should understand how important a pap smear is and why the doctor will want one. What if you have cancer?”

Me (with the are you freaking kidding me look on my face):  “Been there. Done that.  I really do not need a pap smear ok?”

MA (shaking her head and sighing a little):  “So let me get this straight.  You don’t want a pap smear because you had a hysterectomy?  You know you could have cancer and this test will detect it and you still don’t want one.  So you are refusing a pap smear?”

Me (Done.  So done.):  “Yup.  That’s it.  I refuse.  You can tell her that yourself.  That I refuse because I had a hysterectomy, ok?  Use those exact words for me too.”

MA:  “Ok I will.  Just so you know the risks about not getting one.  I will tell her you refused the pap smear because you had a hysterectomy and don’t feel you need one.  Now, I see here you don’t use birth control.  Why not?”

Face Palm.

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did however realize that maybe not everyone knows exactly what a hysterectomy entails (a medical assistant should though) but I didn’t die. I am Fat Girl Super Stann still kicking cancer’s ass Running.  The experiment continues…

Want Some Instant Gratification?

Halloween was especially fun this year.  Not only is it my favorite holiday, but a book came out that I have been looking forward to…you may have heard of it.  It is called The Running Experiment:  The Revenge of the Sofa!  Woot Woot!  That’s right…my second book came out this weekend!!  Best last weekend in October ever!  The book went live on the internets and I was thrilled.  So get your copies today…look I will even make it easy for you and provide you with the links. Go get some instant gratification!

Go and get your copy today!  I promise you laughter…and yes a few tears but also lots of laughter.  You know you want to read some stuff that was written especially for the book and never published here at all!!  Also, if you are going to be in the Phoenix are and want a signed copy for yourself and a few extra copies for friends or family, then come on down to the Authors and Artists Event.  It will be held at 2719 S. Reyes in Mesa on November 9th from 3-5pm and I will be signing books and chatting with peeps!  Here is the facebook link:  Check out this great event with 3 authors and lots of art being raffled off for the PEO organization, who own my beloved alma mater Cottey College.  I hope to see lots of fans there…and BFF will be there too so don’t b shy to ask us for a pic!  Bubby, Pocket GF, my Mom, Bestie and BFFE will also be there at some point so you can stalk all your favorite characters from my books!  Fun times!

Speaking of the newest book, Boss Bean once again surprised me and when the book went live, she asked me to check out the “look inside” feature on Amazon.  I did, thrilled I could read my dedication and acknowledgements and then…there it was…a foreword.  Wait…I didn’t write a foreword.  As I started to read, I realized this foreword was written by my Bubby and it is so beautiful that I started to cry.  And not nice pretty cry but ugly cry.  I realized that the love I have for my siblings is shared by them…never say an age difference can’t make you close.  We are proof that it can and it does.  Thank you Bubby…now I almost feel bad about throwing you down the laundry chute…almost.

So hurry…click on the links, buy your copies, bring them to me to sign…what ever you would like.  Stalk me at events.  I like it.  Some call it stalking, I call it love.  Plus, you know you want to read about Elvis, Disneyland, Comicon, and my battle with the Big C.  The one thing that is bittersweet is that the book is dedicated in part to my sweet friend Amy, who bravely lost her battle with breast cancer on Nov 1st so she never got to read my dedication or laugh at the antics in the book.  I am glad my first book brought her so much laughter through her battle.  Her gentle soul is missed greatly by us all that were lucky enough to be a part of her life journey.  God speed Amy…cancer fucking sucks.  So now go by the book for Amy…nice pity plug there, eh?

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did discover this great book had been released this weekend that you are gonna love but I didn’t die.  I am Fat Girl with a SECOND book that just came out Running.  The experiment continues…

Those Three Words…A Year Later

I looked at my calendar today and realized something…It has been over one year ago now that three little words changed my life and my perspective on it.  You never think that one visit to a doctor’s office could change everything you know but it did.  It was one year ago my OB/GYN doc looked at me and said those fateful words:  You have cancer. 

Cancer.  I guess I never realized that that little word would change everything in my life.  Cancer.  It doesn’t define me as a person but it has for sure changed who I am.  Over a year later and that memory is still fresh in my mind.  I do not look like a cancer victim.  You would never know by looking at me that I had cancer…I was lucky and mine was all removed with surgery and no other treatment required.  How did I get so lucky?  I often wonder that myself as endometrial cancer is usually not caught until it has spread.  Mine was caught because of a pesky little polyp.  Thank you polyp.  Thank you little growth for waving hello in my uterus and begging to be removed.  Thank you for causing me to bleed like a stuck pig frequently and often, making me think I was in the movie Carrie.  Little polyp…you saved my life.  I shall name you Penelope Polyp. I wish I could have your shriveled up little polyp body in a glass jar like some creepy scientist to show everyone.  It would be like show and tell…the uber creepy version.  Speaking of uber-creepy, SOTL Man was out waving to me the other day…maybe he has his own weird organ collection in his garage. Wait…you don’t think my Uber-creeper SOTL Man has little Penelope in his grasps do you?  That might be even too creepy for him, but you never know.  I don’t think I want to know what is in his garage for that matter.  I bet he has creepy stuffed versions of the Precious dogs that came before his current little doggie.  This has somehow now taken an uber-weird turn…maybe because it is 5 a.m. and I am at work writing.  Work always makes things weird.  Or maybe it is just me…I mean I did name my polyp.

Cancer.  Who knew one little word would hold so much power but it does.  I never knew those three words could have such an impact on my life.  It changed how I look at life…I take time with things now.  I tell people I love them every day.  I play hard.  I choose to not let those words define me.  Don’t let those words define you if they are ever said to you.  You are not your cancer.  I am not my cancer.  I am just a Fat Girl who happened to have an adventure with my friend cancer.  An adventure in which I kicked it’s ass, but an adventure none the less.  And not one I choose to repeat in my life.  There are lots of adventures that are fun but having your uterus ripped out of you because all it could grow was cancer is not one of them.  So on to more fun adventures I say!  One year cancer free…wow…let’s celebrate.  Who is bringing the uterus pinata and horse head mask? 

One last thing.  FUCK CANCER.  That is all.

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did choose not to let those three words said to me over a year ago define me. Change me, yes, but not define me.  I am Fat Girl one year cancer free Running!  The experiment continues…

My Blog, My Opinion…a Small Timey Wimey Rant

Please forgive me, dear readers, for my absence.  I could blame the holidays (which are partly to blame because we all know how busy those are) or I could blame a million other things, but really the reason is wibbly wobbly timey wimey.  Yes, I have been stuck in another space-time dimension with The Doctor….Doctor Who if you are not familiar.  Damn you Netflix and your ability to stream endless seasons of this great sci-fi gloriousness into my living room.  I am, in fact, watching an episode right now while I write this.  I tell you, it is addictive and has made me a certified Whovian.  I now have debates with my friends on which version of The Doctor is better and whether bow ties are cool or not.  It is a vicious cycle.  But now, brace yourself for a small timey wimey rant.

I feel like I must address something that happened to me after I wrote my last post about what not to say when someone has cancer.  I got TONS of support and lots of survivors like myself who agreed with what I said.  I did, however, have a rather nasty encounter with someone who felt as if I was overstepping my boundaries by stating what I found was not comforting.  I was accused of being self-centered, publicly humiliating my loved ones and friends for saying these things, and bringing judgment on others. She did this in the rather public forum of Facebook (pot calling the kettle black) using very hateful language and while I did defend myself there, it got me to thinking.   Hmmmmm…well let’s address these things, shall we.

First off, this is MY blog and therefore MY opinion.  You do not have to agree with me in all things that I say, in fact I rather like engaging in healthy debate with people.  But to call me self-centered about my own cancer….well yes.  I am.  Why?  Because it is MY cancer and MY journey.  Yours might be different.  But I feel that I have every right to discuss what I found to be not comforting.  And since many survivors have said the same thing to me, I think that this person is more in the minority than the majority.  Yes, I understand that people are trying to relate or “show their understanding” of my diagnosis, but really…can they understand?  Can they know what it feels like to have cancer?  Unless they have cancer themselves, then I say no.  Do not try to understand what I am going through.  Just take my hand and go with me on the journey.  This does not make me the “Queen of what not to say”.  Rather, a voice in what many find comforting and maybe a chance to step back and re think what you might say to a loved one.  It has made me re-think what I say when people tell me things.  If you found what I said offensive, then I suggest you think about WHY it made you feel offended.  Chances are, you have used these phrases yourself and do not like the fact that maybe someone does not appreciate what you are saying.

As far as publicly humiliating my friends and loved ones, there you are mistaken.  My friends and loved ones KNOW I am a blogger and anything they say can and usually will be used in one of my blogs.  If there is something they would rather me not discuss, they tell me.  I do not feel I offended any of them because they would have told me.  It is a strictly honesty policy I have with all my friends and loved ones and if they don’t like it, then they are not my friends.  And if I did publicly humiliate one of them, then let me take this opportunity to apologise publicly for doing so.  It was not my intent.  My intent by that blog post was again, to make people think about what they say before they say things.  It can be applied to any time you are faced with something terrible..several of my friends said that when their spouse or loved one has died that people said similar things to them that they did not find comforting.  And really, if anyone should complain about being publicly humiliated, then my BFF really should, since most of the things I write involve the funniest things we say or do.

The last thing she accused me of was judging people for what they said to me.  Yes, I did.  Don’t we all judge people?  I mean, we can say all we like that we don’t, but I see it in everyday life.  And yes, I am just as guilty as the next for judging others.  But again, this is MY blog and I can say what I like because it is my forum for expressing myself.  If you don’t want to hear what I have to say, then don’t read my blog.  As for judging others…I rather believe that this person judged me by my blog post.  So that is again the pot calling the kettle black. So, see…we all judge people.

Ok…wibbly wobbly rant over.  I feel better.  Again, I love hearing people’s opinions about what I write, I would just prefer that they weren’t so hateful when expressed.  So express yourself!  I know I do…here in my blog.  My forum for my opinions.  Glad you read them!

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did however get lost in the TARDIS with The Doctor for a while but returned to this dimension and this time to continue to write my opinions in my blog.  I am the ever opinionated blogger The Fat Girl Running and I love my readers.  The experiment continues…

What NOT to say…A Fat Girl’s Etiquette Guide to Dealing With Cancer

When I was diagnosed with cancer in July, I hesitated to tell people that I had the Big C.  I just didn’t want the pity looks people give others when they hear terrible news.  Like they are suddenly taking stock of their own lives as if the diagnosis has made them look at their own mortality.  I can get that.  Really, I can.  At BFF’s insistence, I decided to tell people about my diagnosis to get support.  What floored me was not the pity looks I thought I would get (and I did get some) but sometimes it was the things that were said in response to hearing that I had cancer well meaning as they might have been.  I decided to help all of you out there with the etiquette of what NOT to say when someone tells you that they have cancer (or any other horrible diagnosis) and what you should say.

  1. “My __________ (fill in with aunt, grandfather, sister, friend whatever pronoun you choose) was diagnosed with that type of cancer.  He/She went through a horrible time and died.  But, I am sure that your experience will be different.”  Really?  Is this supposed to comfort me?  You just informed me, after I tell you that I JUST found out I have cancer, that someone you know DIED from this type of cancer.  Well, gee.  I feel better already about my diagnosis.  In fact, I think I will skip down the street, twirling in a white cotton dress while releasing balloons in the joy of knowing that I might DIE.  Yeah.  Believe it or not, I did not hear this just once, but SEVERAL times from several people.  I mean…hello…did you all go to a make me feel like shit about my diagnosis but in a nice way school?  I know that it might have been a thought that popped into your head when I told you, but did you need to say it out loud?  There is a reason we have filters, so use them.
  2. “But you are so young!”  Yes, I am quite aware of my age.  But are you aware that cancer does not care?  Cancer hits people of all ages, even children.  You don’t have to be old to get cancer.  Also, this sentence is usually said in such a way that it implies I am going to die.  Thanks for nailing that portion of the lid on my coffin.  Why don’t you go join your friends from #1?
  3. “Aren’t you upset about not being able to have children anymore?”  This one applies to my hysterectomy but it could be said about any cancer that might be affecting your appearance or lifestyle. Well, actually, since I had made the conscious choice to not have children, no I am not upset but thanks for bringing it up and making me realize I CANNOT have children anymore even if I wanted to.  And if I was upset, thanks for rubbing salt in that wound.   Do you go and ask the guy who got his leg shot off in Afghanistan if he is upset that he doesn’t have a leg or the woman who had a double mastectomy if she is upset about losing her ta-tas?  So why would you ask me about my uterus and my ability to have children? This question was actually posed to me so much that I started my conversations with the fact that I wasn’t upset.  Quit reminding me I cannot have children any more.  I am aware.  I saw the public service announcement and read the pamphlet.
  4. “What am I going to do without you?”  Wow.  Just wow.  This really isn’t about you.  And yes, this was said to me and NOT by someone like a spouse, siblings, parents or my BFF that would have had the right to say that.  Let’s leave it at that.  Because I think you all know this was not appropriate. And left me with my mouth hanging open like I was gathering flies.
  5. “You are pretty nonchalant about having cancer, aren’t you?”  Hmmmmm… would you like me to act?  Would you like me to lose my shit right here and now? You know I could but I refrained for a reason.  This would leave us both in an uncomfortable position of me sobbing my brains out with mascara making me look like a raccoon and you standing there awkwardly not knowing how to comfort me but handing me a paper towel to wipe the snot bubble from my nose.  Pretty sure neither of us wants that.  I can’t really change the fact that I have cancer, so why shouldn’t I joke and laugh about my uterus being an inhospitable place except to cancer?  I really don’t see the benefit of wallowing in self-pity and tears when I can share my pain through laughter and make you feel a little less awkward around me now that you think I am going to die.

Yes, I really did hear all of those things when I talked about being diagnosed with cancer and I am sure other cancer patients can relate.  I know that the people who said them meant well and maybe did not know what else to say.  So I am going to help those of you out who might be at a loss for words when a friend or family member says they have cancer.  Here are a few things you can say instead.

  • “I’m sorry.”  I know this seems simple but sometimes that is all that is needed to be said because you know what?  I am sorry I got cancer too.  This could come with hug if the person is a huggy sort of person.  If they seem to have their prickles out that day, then I recommend not hugging.  Just saying you are sorry is good enough.  And don’t try to act huggy if you are not….we can see through that.
  • “What can I do for you?”  Offering to help the person with meals, child care, rides to the doctors, whatever you can think of is often something that the person had not thought of with all the upheaval in their life.  When I was getting ready to have surgery, one of my co-workers, without me asking set up a calender online with meals and housekeeping and whatever else she thought I might need and people could sign up to help out.  This was one of the BEST things I have ever had done for me.  I am not one to ask for help, but those meals really came in handy.  I was able to stuff my gob with good homemade food.  It was a blessing in disguise.  And realize that the person themselves may not ask for help, just take the initiative and be the pushy bitch like my co-worker was and do it on your own.  It will be appreciated.  Especially things like cobbler and ice cream (you know who you are…we ate the crap out of that).
  • “Well fuck.  That sucks.”  This was the BEST response I ever got and I need to thank my BFF for always knowing what to say because she is right.  It does suck.  It sucks big time.  And it made me laugh and laughter is good for the soul.  And believe it or not, my Bubby, Dad and another of my co-workers said it sucked too.  It is probably the best thing to say besides I’m sorry.  Because cancer sucks.  Period.

Just remember, people have a hard enough time dealing with their own diagnosis and they do not need to deal with your junk on top of it.  Don’t put me in my coffin before I am ready.  Don’t try to be nice.  Just be simple and straightforward.  And honest (with a filter) is always best.  Your friend or family member will appreciate it.  The best advice I can give you is to listen.  The person who got diagnosed might just need that…a listening ear, a hug, or they might need to become that awkward, bawling snot bubble producing person in front of you (that might have happened to me in front of BFF but I shall deny it till the day I am ready to die).  Just awkwardly hand them that paper towel and then assure them that they can be the superhero you know they are capable of becoming.

Cancer can make you into a superhero...I know this to be true
Cancer can make you into a superhero…I know this to be true

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I did realize that people sometimes do not think before they speak or think they are being comforting when they are not.  I am Fat Girl denying still I lost my shit with BFF and cried so hard I produced a snot bubble Running.  The experiment continues…

Super Stann Kicks Cancer’s Ass!

Super Stann’s story continues….she showed up three weeks ago prepared to kick some cancer butt and boy did she ever.  Pink cape on and Uterus of Justice in hand, she kicked cancer’s ass!  It has been a long three weeks since I went in for my hysterectomy, but I have this to report:  I AM CANCER FREE!!  Yup.  You heard me scream that loudly!  The cancer was completely contained to the lining of my uterus and did not extend into my muscles, tubes, ovaries or anywhere else so I am in the clear!  I about hugged my surgeon when she reported it to me and BFF and tears were shed over it.  Thanks to all who gave me positive thoughts, prayers, good ju-ju, wishes and hopes.  I am blessed to have some wonderous family, friends and readers.  So let me fill you in on my journey the last three weeks.

The morning of surgery, BFF took me in and graciously put up with my nervous babbling and a couple of tears as we waited for anesthesia and my surgeon to finish up a c-section.  One good thing about having surgery in the facility where you work…I actually had nurses fighting to be in the OR with me and take care of me.  My surgeon was even instructed by the labor nurses to take good care of me and get it all out with surgery.  I don’t remember a whole lot of what happened after I was given the lovely versed cocktail, except for my surgeon laughingly telling me that I had already shave prepped for her…of course I did.  I couldn’t go into surgery with howler monkeys swinging around down there in my jungle of girly parts.  I wanted her to see what she was doing!  After surgery, I was wheeled up to BFF’s floor and doted on by some wonderful nurses and techs up there.  They even decorated my room.  Here is what was awaiting me in my drug induced haze:

Seriously I love my friends…without their sense of humor and love I could not have done this.  Some of the messages on this bear are not the most appropriate and I wouldn’t have it any other way!
Notice the “no uterus” medical picture…I think Hallmark could use this as a greeting card

The first day in the hospital was not a fun one for me…let’s just say my worst fear as a nurse and my friend K’s as well, who took care if me, is vomit.  I made all those fears come true for her and me.  I have a wonderful BFF and some wonderful friends who took care of me  while I barfed my guts out while sobbing for HOURS.  I felt like kaka to say the least.  And barfing after abdominal surgery is NOT a fun experience.  I publicly apologize to poor K for making her worst fears come true.  It was truly not on my agenda for the day.  Poor BFF had worked the night before my surgery and still took care of me.  The next couple of days is filled with drug induced memories of people visiting me, the nurses discussing my urine output, feeling like a giant pile of elephant poop and just wanting to get home.  In fact the first week, I pretty much felt like a herd of wildebeests had trampled me in the abdomen and left me in the middle of the Serengeti to die.  I do not recommend abdominal surgery if you can avoid it.  Walking even to the corner of my street felt like freaking marathon.  I have spent a lot of time the last few weeks watching Who’s Your Daddy on Maury, weird movies on Netflix and surfing the internet for the best midget porn sites.  A girl has got to have some entertainment.  Guess I should clear my internet browser before letting someone borrow my laptop…

Here is one thing you would realize pretty quickly after having abdominal surgery:  what you ACTUALLY use those muscles for in your everyday life.  Getting in and out of bed, up and down off the couch, sneezing, coughing and the biggest one of them all…POOPING.  For goodness sake, I never knew how bowel obsessed I was until I couldn’t poop from all the pain killers and my muscles not cooperating.  I was miserable until I had my first poop and let me tell you I wanted to jump up and down but refrained because that also hurt.  Colace has become my friend ever since the hospital.  Seriously, you do not want to spend hours sitting on the toilet wishing to whatever God you pray to that you could poop.  When you can’t poop and need to, you actually contemplate how in the world you are gonna accomplish this feat.  It can consume you.  I am not kidding.  I was miserable.  Three weeks out, pooping is still a challenge to use those muscles but much easier I must report….was that TMI?  Oh well…I am a nurse after all.  And apparently, bowel obsessed.

I must thank my alter ego, Super Stann for kicking cancer’s ass…I never doubted I could do it, but there were a few tears shed with my BFF over the “what if”.  I must publicly thank all the nurses, techs, friends who lovingly brought me food and company, my BFF, Bubby and Pocket GF and my Momma for everything you all have done for me while I recover.  Words cannot express my gratitude…so I will let Natalie Merchant do it for me:

Oh yeah…I didn’t die today.  I felt like I might right after surgery but I didn’t die.  I am CANCER FREE Fat Girl who needs to go poop Running.  The experiment continues…

Super Stann vs The Big C

It was a dark and stormy night…wait….maybe just dark since it is almost midnight.  I am about to embark into turning into my alter ego, Super Stann, to fight the Big C tomorrow.  I have kept busy the last few days trying to prepare, even redecorated the craft dojo since Bubby finished all the painting in there.  To become Super Stann takes some prep work, but to fight a big battle like the Battle Against the Big C requires even more work to transform into the superhero I know I am.  So here I go…

First off, after cleaning my lair…AKA The Fortress of Attitude… I need to pack a bag to turn into Super Stann.  I mean I have to show up as a normal everyday patient, but I need some supplies.  Along with the normal slippers and jammies, I have to pack the essentials.  Pink Cape of Courage….check.  Uterus of Justice….check check.  The Uterus is my secret weapon that was sent to me by two of my friends.  One of them actually knitted me a new uterus and this one is cancer free.  Seriously, who makes someone else a new uterus?  My friends. That’s who.  Remember how awesome I said my friends were…this just proves it.  It is one of the funniest things I swear I have ever gotten in the mail…and I am pretty sure it is real uterus sized.  The Uterus of Justice can be used to throw at people and watch out….you never know who I might throw it at!  We even tossed it around the nurses station at work my last shift before I went out on leave.  Yup.  My friends rock.

My superhero accessories…see the Uterus of Justice there in the middle? Awesome friends I have…Thanks J and M!!

The next step in transforming into Super Stann in order to fight the Big C is to take a special shower that gets rid of the of all the microbes on my body.  I actually had to take a real shower and then coat my body in this special soap…twice…wait 2 minutes and then rinse off the soap.  I feel sanitized.  Oh…and I smell weird.  Like hospital weird.  I also must take one of these special superhero power enhancing showers in the morning.  Oh joy.  And did I mention, you then cannot use any lotions or deodorants.  Pretty sure I might need that second demicrobing shower in the morning.  I felt a little like Ethan Hawke in the movie Gattaca when he gets into that decontamination shower pod thingy to scrub his skin down.  I really did feel like I was in a sci-fi movie coating my body in this special weird soap that smells like antiseptic.  But, if it enhance my superhero powers, then more power to it.  I still smell weird.  Ninja Kitty doesn’t even want to sit with me.

So now, after guzzling a glass of water…because not eating and drinking now will also enhance my ability to fight….I am ready for the fight tomorrow.  I promise to get a picture of me wandering the halls in my Pink Cape of Courage.  After all, it will cover my flass in that oh so sexy hospital gown.  Here comes SUPER STANN!  I shall prevail against the Big C…of this I am sure.  It will not stand up to my powers!

Oh yeah…I didn’t die today.  I did, however, prepare myself for becoming my alter ego Super Stann in order to fight the Big C tomorrow!  I am Fat Girl with a Pink Cape of Courage and a Uterus of Justice running!  The experiment continues….