Cancer and AIDS

8 May

Cancer. I probably have cancer.  I haven’t been to a doctor in five years.  I haven’t been to a dentist in ten years.  I smoke; I drink; I do drugs; I have unprotected sex. I stay up late smoking and drinking acidic red wine and pass out without brushing my teeth.  I eat fibrous meats and then don’t floss for several days until I notice that the meat chunks wedged between my molars have decayed enough so that they are no longer snugly jammed into my gums but are slipping around on a slime coating of rot.  Then I floss, and when I spit it’s red as a cherry slurpee, my gums lacerated to let more rotting flesh bacteria into my bloodstream.  I go out in the sun.  I go out in the sun and I fake tan and there are swarms of new moles on my back, all of which have variegated color and irregular borders.  What mole does not have irregular borders? Are other people’s moles, like, smooth Euclidian triangles and squares?  They’re all fleshy tumorous-looking masses, and there’s a van parked outside my office run by a medical charity where I could go have them looked at easily and for free.   But I don’t.  I do nothing, and then at night I have fantasies about the cancerous moles growing and eating my brain and pancreas.

I probably have AIDS.  I haven’t had an STD test in five years.  I have had unprotected sex with about fifty people in this time.  Maybe not; let’s not brag. But about thirty people.  I probably have AIDS and Hepatitis C and HPV-induced dick cancer and Herpes and Syphilis and Chlamydia and whatever else you don’t notice, whatever slips into your balls with zero symptoms and just quietly gnaws away at your reproductive apparatus  and makes your kids into murderous HILLS HAVE EYES retards.

I probably have the precursors of nut cancer and dick cancer and bowel cancer and face cancer and ass cancer and whatever else would require that I have the few bits of me I treasure hacked off and replaced with shit filled bags and tubes, but I’m not going to do anything about it.  I would need a kindly country doctor who brings an old-timey black purse with a big white cross on it to house calls to show up at my convenience and treat me for free, to do anything about it.  Because it’s too much hassle otherwise, to get the time off work, to find a fucking doctor in the first place, to pay, to fight the insurance company over what they should pay—a basic life-sustaining activity like preserving your health just feels like another bill, another chore. Like jury duty, or another fight with the DMV.  There is a little vessel inside me filled with the daily hassles of work and money and doing your taxes and paying your bills and it is absolutely full to the fucking meniscus and any other responsibilities I try to pour in there will just flow over the side to be ignored.

4 Responses to “Cancer and AIDS”

  1. Anonymous May 8, 2012 at 1:49 pm #

    can you write about a good day? just one day where there is no mention of AIDS or the dumb chicks on OKC or how your ball hairs are white.

  2. Anonymous May 8, 2012 at 11:29 pm #

    Who wants to read about good days? How do you think he developed his following?

    How do you have time to tan but not to brush your teeth? This sounds like a self-worth issue.

  3. Anonymous May 8, 2012 at 11:30 pm #

    brush = floss

  4. Anonymous May 9, 2012 at 8:55 pm #

    you forgot about throat cancer.

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