Jesse: The Monster of 7H

Well, now that I'm an official blogger (3 WHOLE POSTS!!!)  I've been getting a lot of feedback.  Some compliments on the blog, people saying they like it or don't or whatever.  And some from people who say that I'm very inspiring and such.  I appreciate that you think I'm inspirational.  But let me tell you the truth.
   
Jesse P. was the big bully of 7H.  I took my cancer out on everyone around me.  Seriously.  I GOT COMPLAINTS FROM THE HOSPITAL STAFF.  The childlife specialist had to sit me down with my parents and tell me to be nicer.  WOOPS!  I was out for blood (literally and figuratively...DONATE BLOOD TO THE RED CROSS :) )
  
My goal was to make everyone---friends, doctors, nurses, hospital volunteers, and everyone in between---hate the shit out of me.  Because if you hated me, it was hard to feel sorry for me.  And I honestly would rather be hated than pitied.  That's still true.  But I'm a lot tamer now (just don't cross me, fools or I'll probably call you a poophead and then run away because I don't like confrontation).

So here's the 411, my friends.  My body turned against me.  And it sucked.  But you know, it all leads to that famous cliche SHIT HAPPENS.  And that's how I felt from day one.  Don't treat me any differently, because shit happens to everyone and we just deal.  Is it terrible to have a tumor wreaking havoc on your body?  Yes.  Is it terrible to spend the majority of your time in the hospital?  Yes.  But isn't it also terrible that so and so's favorite uncle just got in a car accident and died?  Isn't it terrible that so and so had a miscarriage after trying for years to get pregnant?  Isn't it terrible that person A lost their job, and person B's husband of 6 years is having an affair, and person C can't seem to keep their grades up and won't be getting into college, while person D, E, F, and G battle addiction, poverty, loneliness, suicide, divorce, mental health issues, etc....

Because cancer is such a widespread and often fatal illness, people flip a shit when they hear about a diagnosis.  Everyone felt so f***king sorry for me, and I couldn't understand why.  In my mind, I had some shit happening to me, and I was dealing with it.  No one paid attention to the fact that the chemotherapy made noticeable differences in my body after 48 hours. My body had an almost IMMEDIATE RESPONSE.  And no one paid attention to the fact that my cancer has an 85 percent cure rate.  Everyone just saw the bald head and puke bucket and the waterworks took over. 
  
However, just as it is hard for others to understand my point of view, it is hard for me to understand things from your perspective.  I know that feelings of pity and sadness just come naturally sometimes.  But that's why I decided that I was going to make people hate me before they could cry for me.  It was a defense mechanism that I am ashamed to say I used.  To this day, I wish I had been nicer to the people around me and appreciated that everyone just wanted to help.  But if you learn one thing from my random spewing of shit on this blog, I hope it is this: people in crisis don't want your help.  They want YOU.  They want you to be the person you've always been for them, and they want to be treated like the person they've always been for you.

So wtf was I even saying before I wrote this profound masterpiece??? Oh.  Ha.  Inspiration.  I'm appreciative that people find me inspiring.  But it's hard for me to understand why, because as I've outlined in the run-on sentences above, I just deal with the shit that happens to me.  And you deal with the shit that happens to you.  You are inspiring for battling your own personal demons.
  
Remember that cancer patients and survivors are not defined by their cancer.  They are the same person they've always been.  Only now they're f**king fighters and they ain't takin' no shitttt from anyoneeeeeeeee. 

And if you EVER THINK ABOUT feeling sorry for me:

              LOOK AT HOW SEXY THIS BEYOTCH WASSS AT DAAA PROMMMMM!!!!


Thanks for all the love and support,
Jesse <3

PS. I was serious about the bath salts.  Cut the shit.