Dear Body: I Hate You.

Listen. I didn’t mind when, at the age of 12, you decided to stop growing beautiful, silken, soft, shiny hair from my head and instead started generating an unruly pile of curly, afro-looking mess that would make Dolemite weep. I didn’t mind that you forgot to grow me breasts during puberty, and grew my torso freakishly long so that I resemble a cross between an emperor penguin and the Pope. All those are superficial problems, and I am more then a facade.

I took it in stride when, despite my having a childhood so wholesome as to make Martha Stuart look like the triple-breasted whore of Eroticon Six, you decided to slack off on the seratonin production, turning me into a pathetic, suicidal mess. Yea, even when you decided that one mental disorder wasn’t enough and caused me to wake up in the middle of the night with panic attacks, I let it slide.

I feed you healthy vegetables, whole grains, and morsels of protein rich goodness. I do not drink, smoke, eat meat, or use drugs, unless prescribed. I jog up stairs thrice a week for you. I take vitamins. I drink water, take no caffeine, and sleep regularly. Somehow, though, you still decided it would be a fun thing for me to get woozy on the subway every morning, forcing me to sit on the floor of the train until the next stop or some nice person offers me their seat. I don’t mind though-- why take drugs when I can just catch the 4 and get light headed?

Today you went too far, my friend. I have never gotten you pregnant, nor ever put you at risk for catching an STD. Why is it, then, that for the past two weeks I’ve experienced the most horrid cramping, burning sensation that I’ve every been privy to? I decided to find out today, when I noticed blood, and learned what I had expected all along-- I have a tumor. Let me say that again in case you didn’t catch it the first time: I, CERCARIA, HAVE A MOTHERFUCKING TUMOR.

You little shit!!! After all I’ve done for you, after all the effort I’ve put into keeping you healthy, you had to go pull a little stunt like this, didn’t you?! I’ve put up with your bullshit for twenty years, and this is how you repay me? Never once have I been mad at you for the chronic fatigue, or the fact that I have random full-body spasms, or that annoying habit of bursting into tears at sporadic intervals throughout the day. I took you to doctors, I put medicine in you, I kept you out of the rain and cold, and this is how you repay me?? Fine. You wanna play like that? I’ll play like that. I ain’t shady. You wanna give me cancer? Fine. I don’t need you. Remember Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? Remember Krang? That’s right, I’m implanting my brain in a bionic suit, and you can go house Jerry Falwell’s brain, for all I care.

You don’t believe me? You just wait. You called down the thunder, and now you got it. You’d better pray those results come back negative. Otherwise, I’m trading you in for a Ferrari.

Yours truly,

Damn ingrate. Make it a red Ferrari, okay?

Seriously, wow. I’m sorry to hear about the tumor. It might be a stupid question, but how are you feeling? And when will you get your test results back?


Excellent rant. . .masterful. And you have good reason to be upset. I know this is the Pit, but. . .


Keep us updated, ok? :frowning:

Yes. do keep us updated. Hoping it’s the best possible scenario.

Sending good thoughts your way (positive vibes and prayers, take your pick…) I hope everything turns out ok. Your body’s a traitorous wretch, but you’re still with us.

Hmmm… do Ferraris come in fuschia? And can you get a handbag to match?

Thanks for the kind words, y’all… I’m not sure when I’ll get my results back, the doctor was kind of vauge-- “I’ll give you a call when the lab sends back your results” was all she said, and I was in too much of a daze at the time to get an exact timeframe. I’ll surely keep everyone updated as soon as I know anything. If anyone sees a brain in a jar cruising around the East Coast, then you’ll know it’s me. :rolleyes:

All our best hopes and wishes are with you.

Make it a Dino. Stay away from Steve Martin.

And best of luck.

Billy Rubin.

Oh man. OH MAN. I get to be the FIRST ONE with a Confirmed cercaria brain sighting !!!

Okay, oh man, this is SOOOOO fucking cool. Okay. I drive OVER the George Washington Bridge right? But, I’m in the far right hand lane and so I swerve up onto the Palisades Interstate Parkway, my normal route home.

About a mile up on the right is a gas station and conveniece store. Parked at the first row of gas pumps was a 1999 Ferrari in the most AMAZING blood red.

Not a mark on it. I walked by in utter awe and as I drew even with the passenger compartment ( feeling the mighty thrumming of the engines as I did so…), I saw the most amazing thing…

A Mason Ball Jar. A HUGE one. With the living brain of cercaria resting in it. I was thunderstruck. It was on what appeared to be a large black satin end cusion. It was holding a Mobil Oil Gas Card.

I didn’t want to stare, and so I tucked down my head and kept walking. By the time I’d finished stocking up on Pringles and diet Dr. Pepper, she was gone…gone…gone…

cercaria, you’re handling stark terror with grace and humor, qualities I frequently have trouble mustering when facing my own ills. I respect the hell out of you, and I hope for a flurry of negatives for you in the coming weeks.

If perchance I’m ever close enough to the *Corpus cercaria, I’ll give it a piece of my mind. :wink:

We’re here for you. And, for the Ferrari. :slight_smile:


My first wish for you, of course, is for this to be a false alarm.

If that is not possible, then I wish you the same good fortune as my Aunt Ronnie. Aunt Ronnie was diagnosed with cancer in her mid-twenties. It was found, dealt with, and she has since enjoyed good health. By the way - she turns 70 this year.

It is possible that some of your other problems were either caused by or made worse by a tumor you were unaware of doing odd things to your body chemistry. If that is the case (and it’s impossible to know that right now) then having it removed and a successful course of follow-up treatment may, after unpleasentness, result in over-all better health for you.

In other words - I am trying to give you hope.

Good luck, good fortune, and future good health.

I pray everything will come out in favor of you. Get better.

I stand (actually sit) in awe of your expertise at ranting. I’ll keep you in my thoughts and, as for the Ferrari, make it a convertible!


I just wanted to thank everyone again for the nice words. It’s been a while since I wrote this rant, but I just wanted to let everyone who might have been wondering know-- I’m going to be okay. The tumor is apparently benign. I guess I’ll just call it a premature April Fool’s Day joke played on me by my reproductive system. I think it’s just pissed because I don’t plan on using it. :smiley:

The best thing I’ve read in a damn long time. Great news!

[sub]Now, you should go out and show your body who’s boss. Pour about 4 shots of tequila into it. Then, tomorrow morning, let it know that it could be worse by threatening it with Jagermeister shots with cheap scotch chasers if it acts up again.[/sub]

On the downside, no Ferrari for you. :frowning:

Kidding, cercaria. That’s wonderful news! Thanks for updating us. :slight_smile:

That’s great! I’m glad you’re ok :).

Good to hear that you’re OK.

I decided you were my new favorite poster when I read your rant in the “horrificly bad new Jason movie” thread just now. I am hoping that the tumor will be something easily treatable. In fact, perhaps its treatment will clear up some of the other health problems you have. However, if anyone can become a fully-functioning cyborg, you can. Believe in yourself as we believe in you.