The Tortoise and Your Healthcare (part two)

So I get released from the hospital 85lbs and 3/4 of my colon lighter. During my my first few weeks nurses would come over to show me how to change the bag. This was the most disgusting shit ever, it looked like a tube of red lipstick come out of my stomach. Red lipstick that would spout shit and fart. So my asshole was just for show at this point. Like for real I was sitting in the waiting room one time, and all of a sudden let out this high pitch fart. No warning. Nothing.  Almost sounded like a deflating balloon.
So they’re trying to teach me how to change the bag. I am still at this point trying to wrap my brain around this new reality. I couldn’t look at it, but the nurses were really cool about it. They helped a lot at first, well there was one bitch (always is). She was the second one and was determined I was gonna do this alone. So we’re in my bathroom and she is like you got it, not in an encouraging way, like barking at me. Next thing I know I’m waking up to this bitch calling paramedics.
I passed out on the shitter changing a bag of shit. The only people in the house is me, my daughter, and nurse ratchet. I have to tell my daughter to call my folks and her mother. They all arrive before the ambulance and they cart me off. Now I’m at the hospital again everything is fine, my pops walks in and precedes to tell me this story about my daughter. He said her mother walked in and was trying to calm her down, but my daughter is the definition of gangster to me anyways. She told her mother I’m fine he’s ok just calm down. Then says in a very stern voice “don’t go putting this on facebook”.
My pop is in tears telling me this laughing, he said it was like she was the adult in the situation. I fuckin love that kid! I stay with my folks still (hey fuck u a honkey was broke before cancer) and they decided to go away for the Fourth of July weekend to gamble. Which is fine, I knew they needed a break and babys mom said she would stay to keep an eye on me. Now quick back story on her and I.
We knew each other roughly a month before I got her pregnant. We lived together around 4 years and surprise!  Shit didn’t work out. Now before I get in to this next part I wanna say that we are good. We both have hashed things out and we are good. I don’t wish her any ill will or want anything bad to happen to her. Now that being said let’s get in to it.
The whole weekend we argue. I don’t remember why but we did. Sunday rolls around and she leaves, I go to take a painkiller and my bottle seems light. That Friday I got my script filled for 120 oxycodone. When I counted them on Sunday I had about 55 left. To say I lost my shit, well that would be a gross understatement. When confronted she tried to tell me I took them.
Now in my day I was the Michael Jordan of taking drugs, but in no real world setting could I take an estimated 50 of those in the span of 2/3 days. So understandably we no longer spoke, but an unexpected problem arose. My daughter lives with me and as much as I tried to keep this from her she overheard it. This put an even bigger division between the two of them. At this point I’m furious with her mother and now she is as well.
Understand good or bad you only have one mother, and even as mad and hurt as I was, I couldn’t let her continue to be upset with her mom. Well maybe let isn’t the right word. I had to step in bury the hatchet and help repair their relationship. Which we did over some time but not easily. I love my daughter more than life itself and she is the biggest reason I am still here to write this, but god damn it. Women lemme ask a question.  Why do you feel the need to argue every fucking point? It’s like I can tell you hey don’t hit yourself in the head with a hammer. You still try to convince me that “no cuz if I swing it from the side at this angle I won’t”. Then when you’re bleeding and hurting it’s my fault. Anyways………..
Now I’m on my way to the James Brown cancer center in Louisville.  The full name is James Graham Brown but fuck that. Before I get in to this I gotta say the people that work in this building are a true god send.  Each and every person there is unbelievably dedicated and caring!! Now I go for my first meeting with my oncologist, the professor of pooper if you will. My entire family is with me. Parents, brothers and sister. Then the younger dude walks in like literally looks like a teenager maybe early twenties and starts talking to everyone shaking hands etc.. Then turns to me and says he’s my doctor? The fuck?!?
Nah I’m here to see the head guy.  He said yeah,  that’s me you. Wanna see I.D? Then dude laid out a terrifying plan of chemo for the next 6 months. Says that I’m gonna have to wear the colostomy bag for at least 6 months. That was all I heard everything muted again. I’m like “mother fucker I want this off of me!!” I snap out of it to see my family smiling and the doc leaves the room and I’m fucking pissed. I look at my family and say “the fuck is y’all smiling about I gotta shit sack for six months” say that six times fast.
My sister says are you fucking retarded, did you not hear him? Um yeah I heard I poop like a normal person I got that! She says yeah you dumbass, but he also said they got all the cancer out and the chemo is to make sure they kill all cancerous cells left and you’re gonna be fine.