She's still trying to get rid of me, that rhymes-with-rich-but-not-witch-the-other-thing. She even has the gall to say that I'm on way out. What I ever did to her, I have no idea. I'm just a little invasive cancer near her nipple. Well, whatever, I'll tell you what, she's a total Anti-Cancer Fascist. What's next? Is she going to have a problem with Quakers?
I was going to post this really mean thing about Ana on Facebook, but you know what? I'm bigger than that. You know, for a 8 mm breast carcinoma. Right now, she's in her naturopath's office getting another round of her incredibly expensive European-designed high-end anti-cancer fighter. That's about eight or nine so far. The treatment, called ukrain, is all about isolating me, trying to starve me of my process of reworking the blood vessels to my advantage and all that other crap. Little does she know I'm on a diet anyway. I want to look good for my upcoming spread in Cancer is the Answer magazine. Well, the one I've been told that I might be up for. By an agent I met at a bar. Ana's such a bee-atch!
Ugh, sorry. I just had to let it off her chest.
Actually, I DO have another photo op this week, and it's for reals. On Thursday, my roommate, or rather, body host and I are going back to Encino for another MRI. She hates it because of the sterile, hostile, Kubrickian environment and disinterested medical technicians. I like it because it's all about me. I'm the star. Her hope, though, is that I'm smaller (if I'm smaller, then it's only because it's the breasts that got big). Or in some way measurably different, so she can continue on her regimen of discipline, yoga, healing, greens, tumeric, ginger, garlic and naturopathic treatment. And probably some more conversations with her parasites.
She's also seeing another Doctor in San Diego. And wants to continue her ukrain regimen past next week. I swear, she hates me!
Well, that's what I'm up to this week. TTYL. xo, IDC.
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