Hiatus, part two.

This is not the kind of post I ever wanted to write on this blog.

Hell. This is not the kind of news I ever wanted to receive, or have to share with anyone.

And I debated a long time about even writing this post, because it is a difficult subject.

Scratch that–it’s a shitty, shitty, SHITTY subject.

But as I’ve already shared the news on Twitter (because what doesn’t get shared on Twitter these days?), I figured I might as well go ahead and post it here as well.

A week ago, I learned that I have cancer.

I sat in a tiny exam room plastered with anatomically-correct diagrams of various lady parts and listened to the doctor who had performed my surgery five days prior explain to me, with tears in her eyes, that the biopsy had come back positive for adenocarcinoma.

The doctor cried. Then I cried. Copious tears, people. We’re talking steal-the-tissue-box-from-the-doctor’s-office level of eye flooding.

(I didn’t really steal the box of tissues. Just a lot of what was inside. Though, considering the news I had just received, I think a little tissue theft would have been justified.)

I called my mother from the exam room and told her the news. She didn’t believe me at first. Then she cried. And I cried some more.

And every single day since, I have cried. Sometimes multiple times a day. It hits me out of nowhere. Driving down the road? Sobs. Checking my email? Sobs. Watching Spongebob Squarepants? BAWLING.

And when I haven’t cried, I’ve been angry, ready to crawl inside my own body and kick this cancer’s ever-loving ass.

I am readying myself for more surgery. I am preparing for the possibility that later on, I will have to endure radiation or chemotherapy. And even though I am trying to remain as positive as possible, and am even joking about the diagnosis (to clarify for the gentleman driving down FL 231 who cut me off last Friday evening, what I yelled out the window at your inconsiderate and reckless ass was, “Motherfucker, don’t cut me off! I HAVE CANCER!”) … I am scared.

Still …



You’re going down, diseased cells.

(Okay, well, actually, you’re going out … of me … through surgery … yeah.)

So, yes, I’m ready to fight. Don’t let the tears fool you.

(I’m entitled to them. I have cancer.)

There are a couple of positives to this entire crapfest of a situation, however–the main one being that, while I am flat on my ass recovering from surgery, I will have ample time to watch classic movies until my eyes cross and I start deliriously imitating Joan Crawford.

And perhaps I’ll even have the time to blog about those films at some point.

But for now, True Classics will continue to be on hiatus.

Thank you for your understanding.

We’ll see you soon.

24 thoughts on “Hiatus, part two.

  1. Praying for your healing and your peace, Brandie. We’ll be waiting for you. (Meanwhile, don’t forget, in the words of Joan Crawford: ““Don’t #$%! with me, fellas. This cowgirl has been to the rodeo before.”)

  2. Well, I don’t mind telling you that this sucks a bunch of (expletive deleted because it is unparalleled in its use of obscenities).

    Devastated to hear this news, B…because it continues to demonstrate that life is never fair (and to the people getting ready to say life isn’t fair, please to be biting me now) and these kind of things always seem to happen to good and not evil people. But I’ve skipped a few pages ahead in the script, and I know that this is all going to be fine and dandy. This Cancer dame…she does not know who she’s dealing with. She has made a serious, serious error in judgment. (Or to use my Mom’s expression: “The bitch just don’t be knowin’…”)

    I know you’re going to beat this, because I just put all my chips on you and I never bet unless it’s a sure thing. If you need a back that’s strong I’m only a phone call or e-mail away.

  3. I’m sure if she heard the news, Carole Lombard — she of the salty tongue — would unleash some of her most inventive invective at the cancer challenging you. But just as Carole fought, and won, after an auto accident that threatened her career and doing what she loved, so too will you win. And we’ll be with you every step of the way.

  4. Brandie,
    I am saddened to hear that you are that you’ve diagnosed with Cancer. With the medical community and God’s will, you will survive and go on with your life. My wife is a breast cancer survivor for over 16 years. With God’s help, you’ll survive. I will miss not seeing your blob for the moment. But you will come back!

  5. Brandie- I think you are both incredibly wonderful and brave. I HATE that this is happening to you but I love your spirit and attitude. Let’s face it- Cancer is a bitch & you can & should get all ‘Joan Crawford’ as often as you like! Cancer has directly affected many of my dear loved ones but I am given hope by today’s continued progress of modern medicine. I am also very optimistic for you because of that beautiful spunk and humor you’re expressing right now. Perfect survival skills, lady. Thank you for sharing this so openly and honestly. From myself, @Santaisthinking & our 4 lil elves, we’re sending you healthy wishes, big enormous hugs & lots of LOVE. You got this, sweetie.

  6. Oh I so fucking hate cancer! Sorry to hear this is happening to you. It just isn’t fair. I hope the movies give you happy distraction during your recovery. This is exactly why we need movies. Take care of yourself. Clearly you are very brave, because you shared your feelings with us, so I have high hopes for you.

  7. Aw, man! Brandie, all of us here are so sorry to hear about your cancer diagnosis! Cancer sucks ass, and then some! (I was touched by your doctor’s response, too.) Still, you’ve always been a fighter, and we know you’re gonna pulverize your cancer and overcome the odds, like many of our fellow bloggers and loved ones with the same diagnosis have. We’re totally rooting for you and keeping you in our thoughts and prayers, and we’re here for you, hon!

  8. “I know the man upstairs will pull the plug when he wants to, but I don’t want to end my life being sick. I want to go out on two feet, in action.” – John Wayne, after he licked the Big C

  9. I’m so sorry to hear this, and can’t imagine the flood of emotions you’re dealing with. Kick its tail, enjoy the movies, and we will all be waiting for your return!

  10. I like your “take no prisoners” attitude. It, and your indomitable sense of humor, will take you far. You bring what you can to the table and let the doctors you trust do their job.

    I fought the fight back in 2001 and it helped me then to read of success stories. That’s the reason I will share mine. Diagnosed with colorectal cancer and a tumor the size of a grapefruit I was first put on a course of radiation to shrink the tumor, followed by two rounds of chemotherapy and four surgeries. I have been cancer-free for the past three years and I make my oncologist very happy on my yearly check-up. All of it was grist for a stand-up routine I did on cancer treatment. On those days when you’re feeling too weak to kick cancer’s butt, you’ll always be able to laugh at it. Cancer hates it when you laugh at it!

    PS: I don’t know how you feel about Jello, but I can’t stand the stuff. Hospitals seem to treat it like a miracle food. I would get family to smuggle in those little tubs of apple sauce. Much better.

  11. Brandie, you’re a tough cookie so I know you can beat this cancer. But know that your CMBA friends are here whenever you need us and that you are always in our thoughts and prayers.

  12. My thoughts are with you … and the best line of your post? “You’re going down, diseased cells.” Keep that attitude and you’ll come through with flying colors.

  13. Just read your very interesting post ‘Queering Disney’ as I was thinking on the same lines myself, although I’m a little more hopeful that the likes of Gaston & Lefou and Hook & Smee are possibly in secretly quite loving relationships and essentially the women get in way as the ‘dom’ has a mid-life crisis. I might be reading into it a tad too much, however…

    Upon reading your latest post, my heart sank and in no way insincerely. I am not trying to equal your pain, but I relate to the -screw you- attitude. I have my finals in 3 weeks and have been landed with a deep dip in my M.E./C.F.S., along with a cold and- hurrah- it’s mensie time! And do you know what cure I have resorted to? Beauty & The Beast. One of my favourite Disneys, darkly gothic but sparklingly fantastical too, with a score that fulfils my generally-starving epic-romantic bar.

    Good films, on the whole, remind me of the good things in life. Good blogs only augment my love for films and life.

    I’ll go now, you must be exhausted and hardly need a rant from a complete stranger. But you have- in your dark hour- given me pep to continue to fight back. And I will not presume to give you advice, I do not know you (although from what I’ve read so far, you seem to really rock) but insofar as one film-fanatic can express sympathy to and boost joy for another:

    We’re not supposed to like the West Wing, in fact we were told never to go there. It’s dark, shadowy and we’re sunk into past memories we’d rather tear up and hide from and mourn in. But falling down into the nightmare rabbit-hole teaches us the strength to return, trains us for the next adventure.

    Suffice to say, I’m here to rant back at- I’ll be wrapped up at home revising when I can and watching films, ignoring the shower because the shower means getting undressed, washed and dressed which- when sick, as I’m sure you appreciate- is essentially the Last Crusade and walks of faith aren’t as easy as they look!

    I hope this has helped, hasn’t been exasperating. If you’d like someone to rant back at, there’s a human here quite happy to discuss film and in some way distract from the current migraine of life.



  14. Hi Brandie, Just wanted to follow up the note I left on Twitter and reiterate that I’m pulling for you!!

    Take care and go get ’em!!

    Best wishes,

  15. I’m very sorry that you have to go through this horrible experience. I’m a breast cancer survivor of one year. I just had my yearly check up and all is clear. I won’t lie.. I was scared while waiting for the results.. I was lucky that they caught it in it’s yearly stages. I know.. that you will be healthy again too.((((hugs))). You will be in my thoughts…

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