Hurts so Good

I have a bone marrow biopsy this week. I also have several other tests involving body fluids plus yankings on this-or-that to check for “the lupus”.

Rosh Hashanah is Tuesday. Happy New Year, my ass.

I could do without cringes and squirms from people who hear about my upcoming adventures. Yes, I’ll be a pin cushion by Thursday. Yes, some needles are longer than John Holmes’ ying-yang. I don’t mean to go Buddhist on all two of you, but pain isn’t necessarily bad. It can be transcendental. Or, at the very least, a reason to hit happy hour on Friday.

Obviously, not all pain is positive. The kind that shoots from head to chest listening to Bill Bennett’s ideas about abortion is unbearable; the time between heart attack and death has got to be scary. Unless the heart attack involves Bill Bennett and I'm watching with a bucket of popcorn in my hands. That could be cool.

What about normal aches that come with everyday life?

As a woman, I’m offended when females complain about cramps. Some students use menstruation as reason to sleep during medieval history and I refuse to accept it.

“You’re body is working properly,” I snap. “Your egg and uterus lining is breaking down and you feel it moving through your body. Exercise! Eat right! Lay off weed!”

It takes a special kind of teacher to make that speech work.

I don’t bother with grown women; they’re a lost cause. I just tell them to take Midol and roll with it. Whiny b*tches bringing me down, man. And it gets worse. I had a friend once who wouldn’t get pregnant because she was afraid of childbirth. I told her not to take Lifetime movies seriously, but she never listened.

Weak men are no better. You know the type. They dare to cry about a hand up the arse during colon checks to someone who has had enough wide-open speculums inside her to last a lifetime. Some won’t even see their dentist for fear of a pinch or slight scrape.

It takes a nation of cowards to hold us back.

I’ve given birth to twins, donated endless pints of blood, endured tattoo sessions and meditated my way through several “surgical procedures”.

(Did I mention S&M? Loads of fun.)

And all without a whimper. I bet I can do this, too. Watch me.