In the cosmic lottery that is my ongoing cancer treatment, I drew the two worst nurses when I went in for my CT scan the other day. The main one who was 'helping' me was a morbidly obese woman, who I am sure gets winded when she peels a banana, that is if she eats fruit at all, who has no idea what using 'your indoor voice' means. She kept talking loudly to me even though she was inches away from my ears. And as if that wasn't bad enough, she could not find a vein to put an IV in me. So she stuck me and blundered around until I finally started showing more than obvious signs of discomfort. Finally she relented and went to get another nurse to stick me and what she came back with was a male nurse who looked like he'd just gotten out of his court ordered Sex Offenders Anonymous meeting. I'm pretty sure he'd been in a break room some where resting his hands in a bucket of ice water because he had the coldest hands I've ever had the displeasure to feel. He stuck me in two different places on my hand but sadly could not find a vein, so he went to get the third nurse who came in and said, "I'm going to try to find a vein." I quoted Yoda when I said, "Do or do not, there is no try." She found one on the first try. I turned to Sparky and said, "The force is strong in this one."
After they got the IV in me they took me in for the scan which went better than that IV placement. It showed that I had no cancer in my chest or lungs which is good, but before you get all excited and wet your undies, there's still cancer in me somewhere and my oncologist thinks he found out where it's coming from by looking at some of my blood work, so he's ordered an MRI.
But before the MRI, came my PET scan which had earlier today. And as luck would have it I drew another morbidly obese nurse, one who seemed to think I was supposed to be deferential and worshipful to any one in scrubs I saw. Of course I put her to rights as soon as I could when I showed her that I wasn't about to be either of the things she wanted.
The prep for the PET scan involved me getting stuck again so they could inject dye into my veins. I told the big ol' nurse where to stick me and she got it right the first time, oh joy of joys. Next I had to dink a vile vanilla flavored concoction that she said was to provide contrast inside my body, so I drank about two thirds of it and when she left the room I poured the rest down the sink, that shit was nasty. Then an hour later after the dye and contrast had it's chance to work in me they took me in for the actual scan, which involved me laying on a narrow table and getting slid back and forth in a large tube that took photos of my chest, abdomen, and groin.
When it was done they asked if I wanted a snack and pointed to a bowl full of processed foods that I don't eat and didn't even eat when I wasn't watching my diet. I turned them down and they seemed hurt but I could care less. I asked if I was done, they said yes, and I collected Sparky and got the hell out of there as fast as I could, I wanted to come home and eat something decent and to be out of that building that's full of disease and sickness.
Showing posts with label health and fitness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health and fitness. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Cancer update
I go for a CT scan today and a PET scan tomorrow to see if there is any more cancer in me. Even if there isn't, I'll still be getting chemo for six months, two shots every two weeks. My hair isn't supposed to fall out and the anti nausea drugs are supposed to be top notch, so we'll see how it goes.
Wish me luck.
Wish me luck.
Friday, March 22, 2013
Thursday, March 21, 2013
The ordeal (part 2)
That first Saturday when I was in the hospital, after the dumpy power mad nurse practitioner had led her cadre of followers out of my room, I was as used to the tube in my nose and stomach as I was going to get. It was pumping out what seemed like gallons of nasty reddish colored stuff from deep in my stomach. We still held out hope that the obstruction was going to dislodge itself, but alas it did not.
The next day the surgeon came to see me. He told me the cardiologist I had seen the day before had cleared me for surgery if I needed it. He said that judging by the color of the stuff that was coming out of my stomach that I was very likely to need surgery but he wanted to wait another day to see if things resolved themselves. I begged him to operate on me because I was miserable. I wanted the whole thing to be over. Sparky disagreed and the surgeon agreed not to operate. But still I begged.
I knew Sparky was dead tired and needed to get out of my room for awhile or else she'd go insane, so I told her to go home for awhile. Reluctantly she agreed. About 15 minutes after she left the surgeon called my room and said he was going to operate on me that day. He asked if that was okay. I said hell yes, let's do it. So I scrambled, as much as one can scramble when laid low and hooked up to IV's and the like, to call Sparky to let her know I was going in for surgery. I called and left messages with friends of ours who live a few blocks away and with her parents. Finally she answered the phone, she'd been out running errands. I told her the good news and she said she'd be back in a few minutes.
By the time she got back I was being wheeled out on a gurney. She wished me luck and they took me in for surgery. The stocky anesthesiologist bent over me and said he was going to give me something to help me sleep, next thing I know I woke up and Sparky was telling me not to dislodge the feeding tube or the oxygen mask they had put on me. The good news is the surgery was successful and they took out the section of bowel that was blocked by what turned out to be two cancerous lesions that the surgeon said were the size of Jolly Rancher candies. They also took out my gall bladder. I slept the rest of that Sunday and most of the next day as well. They hooked me up to a morphine pain pump which I got to control and believe me when I say I pumped that shit into me as much as possible because I was in serious pain. My incision went from my pubic hair line to near the bottom of my sternum and they didn't stitch it back up, they stapled it. And bear in mind that I hadn't pooped and barely had peed since the previous Thursday.
The surgeon told me that I could get the tubes out of my nose and go home as after I had a bowel movement and I ate something and kept it down. But until then I was only allowed to eat ice chips and have my mouth and lips swabbed with water or if I could get away with it, ginger ale. Slowly I recovered enough to stand on my own and to go to the bathroom with a little help. I got to take a shower that Wednesday and after that shower I got to shave and brush my teeth. During all that the feeding tube got dislodged and they took it out.
I was miserable the rest of that week. I could not eat, couldn't poop, could barely pee, and I had to put up with nurses who were petty and some dumb ass doctors. The late nights were the worst, laying there in that bed wishing I could drink something, eat something, or shit something so I could go home. Sparky was miserable too. She sat with me but the more I suffered the more she suffered along with me.
Finally Friday night around 11:30 PM after Sparky had gone home I pressed the button to summon a surly nurse and one came in to help me in to the bathroom. I sat down and after having two suppositories, one Thursday and one earlier that Friday, I finally shit. I filled that toilet with some of the most foul looking and smelling diarrhea known to man, but by gawd, I was elated because it meant the tubes would come out the next morning. And sure enough around 7:15 AM the surgeon came in and I told him I finally shat and he pulled the tube out of my nose. I could finally breathe and swallow without tasting plastic. I was on a liquid diet all that day and I gorged on Jell-O, juice, and broth.
The next day I got to eat solid food for the first time in over a week and after I vomited up that morning's broth, I managed to keep down the half of chicken salad sandwich I had for lunch. They let me go finally around 3PM and Sparky drove us home. I was still in much pain and it hurt to move but by gawd I was home.
Most of the next week all I could do was lay on the couch and sleep. And I had to poop every hour to hour and a half, they'd given me three doses of stool softener. It was painful going because of the staples and the near constant pooping but slowly I got better. After that first week I got the staples out and I went back to sleeping our bed, it was too hard to get in and out of it with the staples and I had to be near a bathroom due to my ever present bowel movements.
I'm much better now thanks to Sparky and my friends who came to visit me in the hospital and while I was recuperating at home. I go see the oncologist in a few days to see if I have any more cancer in me but to tell the truth, I'm not scared of what he might find. I feel like the worst part of my ordeal is over and if there is more cancer, then we'll deal with it.
As far as the whole hospital thing goes, I can say the Franklin Woods Community Hospital is a beautiful facility that is staffed with a crew of doctors and nurses who are clearly not ready for prime time. Most, but not all, of the nurses who I encountered acted like they were put upon and that I was somehow a burden. The staff doctors I encountered were either ineffectual or so desperate for approval that they would do anything to get you to like them. However, my surgeon, Dr. Luis, and the oncologist, Dr. Palmeri, were both top notch and were professional. They treated me like an adult, they didn't condescend to me and they cut right to the chase and told me what was going on and what needed to be done. I give them both high marks.
So, we'll see what the future holds.
The next day the surgeon came to see me. He told me the cardiologist I had seen the day before had cleared me for surgery if I needed it. He said that judging by the color of the stuff that was coming out of my stomach that I was very likely to need surgery but he wanted to wait another day to see if things resolved themselves. I begged him to operate on me because I was miserable. I wanted the whole thing to be over. Sparky disagreed and the surgeon agreed not to operate. But still I begged.
I knew Sparky was dead tired and needed to get out of my room for awhile or else she'd go insane, so I told her to go home for awhile. Reluctantly she agreed. About 15 minutes after she left the surgeon called my room and said he was going to operate on me that day. He asked if that was okay. I said hell yes, let's do it. So I scrambled, as much as one can scramble when laid low and hooked up to IV's and the like, to call Sparky to let her know I was going in for surgery. I called and left messages with friends of ours who live a few blocks away and with her parents. Finally she answered the phone, she'd been out running errands. I told her the good news and she said she'd be back in a few minutes.
By the time she got back I was being wheeled out on a gurney. She wished me luck and they took me in for surgery. The stocky anesthesiologist bent over me and said he was going to give me something to help me sleep, next thing I know I woke up and Sparky was telling me not to dislodge the feeding tube or the oxygen mask they had put on me. The good news is the surgery was successful and they took out the section of bowel that was blocked by what turned out to be two cancerous lesions that the surgeon said were the size of Jolly Rancher candies. They also took out my gall bladder. I slept the rest of that Sunday and most of the next day as well. They hooked me up to a morphine pain pump which I got to control and believe me when I say I pumped that shit into me as much as possible because I was in serious pain. My incision went from my pubic hair line to near the bottom of my sternum and they didn't stitch it back up, they stapled it. And bear in mind that I hadn't pooped and barely had peed since the previous Thursday.
The surgeon told me that I could get the tubes out of my nose and go home as after I had a bowel movement and I ate something and kept it down. But until then I was only allowed to eat ice chips and have my mouth and lips swabbed with water or if I could get away with it, ginger ale. Slowly I recovered enough to stand on my own and to go to the bathroom with a little help. I got to take a shower that Wednesday and after that shower I got to shave and brush my teeth. During all that the feeding tube got dislodged and they took it out.
I was miserable the rest of that week. I could not eat, couldn't poop, could barely pee, and I had to put up with nurses who were petty and some dumb ass doctors. The late nights were the worst, laying there in that bed wishing I could drink something, eat something, or shit something so I could go home. Sparky was miserable too. She sat with me but the more I suffered the more she suffered along with me.
Finally Friday night around 11:30 PM after Sparky had gone home I pressed the button to summon a surly nurse and one came in to help me in to the bathroom. I sat down and after having two suppositories, one Thursday and one earlier that Friday, I finally shit. I filled that toilet with some of the most foul looking and smelling diarrhea known to man, but by gawd, I was elated because it meant the tubes would come out the next morning. And sure enough around 7:15 AM the surgeon came in and I told him I finally shat and he pulled the tube out of my nose. I could finally breathe and swallow without tasting plastic. I was on a liquid diet all that day and I gorged on Jell-O, juice, and broth.
The next day I got to eat solid food for the first time in over a week and after I vomited up that morning's broth, I managed to keep down the half of chicken salad sandwich I had for lunch. They let me go finally around 3PM and Sparky drove us home. I was still in much pain and it hurt to move but by gawd I was home.
Most of the next week all I could do was lay on the couch and sleep. And I had to poop every hour to hour and a half, they'd given me three doses of stool softener. It was painful going because of the staples and the near constant pooping but slowly I got better. After that first week I got the staples out and I went back to sleeping our bed, it was too hard to get in and out of it with the staples and I had to be near a bathroom due to my ever present bowel movements.
I'm much better now thanks to Sparky and my friends who came to visit me in the hospital and while I was recuperating at home. I go see the oncologist in a few days to see if I have any more cancer in me but to tell the truth, I'm not scared of what he might find. I feel like the worst part of my ordeal is over and if there is more cancer, then we'll deal with it.
As far as the whole hospital thing goes, I can say the Franklin Woods Community Hospital is a beautiful facility that is staffed with a crew of doctors and nurses who are clearly not ready for prime time. Most, but not all, of the nurses who I encountered acted like they were put upon and that I was somehow a burden. The staff doctors I encountered were either ineffectual or so desperate for approval that they would do anything to get you to like them. However, my surgeon, Dr. Luis, and the oncologist, Dr. Palmeri, were both top notch and were professional. They treated me like an adult, they didn't condescend to me and they cut right to the chase and told me what was going on and what needed to be done. I give them both high marks.
So, we'll see what the future holds.
Monday, March 18, 2013
The ordeal (part one)
About this time 4 weeks ago I started having severe stomach cramps. At first I wrote it off to some kind of virus or something and I assumed they'd go away. The next day I began vomiting after I ate. I figured I had the flu, except I didn't have any flu like symptoms. By Wed. I felt a little better but still not right, but nonetheless I went about my daily routine as best as I could. Thursday brought me low and by Friday I knew something wasn't right so I asked Sparky to take me to the hospital, she had wanted me to go a couple of days earlier but I wanted to ride it out.
We went to the newest hospital in town, Franklin Woods Community Hospital. They got me in right away and pretty much diagnosed me with a blocked/obstructed bowel right away. The mousy little nurse practitioner told me they may have to operate if it didn't take care of itself. She said they'd have to put a tube up my nose that went down to my stomach to drain it and see if the stomach and bowel decompressed. I'm not sure about you but to me that sounded like hell so I told her no way was I getting a tube up my nose. So she ran out and wrote on my chart that I was refusing treatment.
A few hours later a nice young abdominal surgeon, the first and only MD I saw that day, came in and explained to me just what was going on with me and what needed to be done. He explained that I needed the tube to drain my stomach and that in many cases the draining would decompress the stomach and bowel which would result in the dislodging of the obstruction. He told me that if it didn't dislodge naturally, then they have to operate and cut out the obstructed portion of my bowel and reattach the bowel that was left to my stomach. Once he explained the gravity of the situation I quickly agreed to the tube, which is called an 'NGT Tube.' He went and wrote on my chart to admit me to the hospital and to get me the tube.
Not too long after he left a new nurse practitioner flounced into the room in the ER where I had spent all afternoon. She was all attitude and by gawd she knew what was right, the patient, me, be damned. She demanded I tell her my symptoms, even though I had told them many times to others. Then she demanded I tell her my medical history in detail. Not content to leave me alone in my pain, she then demanded I tell her what day it was, the date it was, the city I was in, and much more. She was rude, officious, and high handed. She ignored Sparky and acted like she wasn't the room with me. She left in a huff, I assumed she had more sick people to aggravate.
A few hours later I was taken up to a room and deposited in a bed. Bear in mind that I hadn't eaten anything, wasn't allowed to drink anything, and I hadn't pooped in a day or two. We sat waiting for someone, anyone, to come in and put the tube in my nose but despite a parade of nurses, no one ever did. Finally at nearly 9 PM Sparky had had enough, she buttonholed a nurse and asked why they had not put the tube in my nose yet. The nurse, not used to being questioned, looked shocked. She looked at my chart, which was on a computer, and she said it said that I had refused the tube. We told her in no uncertain terms that I had not refused the tube after I spoke to the surgeon. After another half hour they decided they were finally going to put the tube in my nose. Sparky and I both told them we wanted to know why it took them so long to get their shit together. We wanted to know why it took nearly 4 hours to get the tube in me. They looked down at their shoes and shuffled their feet and told us they'd get back to us on that, we're still waiting today for an answer.
When they greased up the tube and stuck it up my nose and down into my stomach it was hell. I screamed long and loud. It felt like the tube was going to go into my brain and then it felt like it was going gag me until I vomited again. Finally when it went into my stomach I could taste and smell the plastic-ness of the tube and every time I swallowed it hurt like hell. I felt like shit, no food, no pooping, and I had a tube that was making me sick up in my nose. I knew Sparky was freaking out despite her brave face, so I sent her home around 10:30 PM.
I tried in vain to get some rest and to drift off to sleep that night but my pain was great and that damn tube was killing me. Finally around 1 or 2 AM I asked them to take the tube out. They did and I finally fell asleep. But you never get to sleep through the night in a hospital. The kept waking me up to take my blood pressure or to take blood or to make sure I was alive. All that shit coupled with my pain made me one irritable mofro and around 5 or 6 AM a nurse woke me up to ask if she could take my blood pressure. I snapped. I had just a few hours of sound sleep, no food, hadn't been able to poop or pee, was hooked up to an uncomfortable IV, and I said, "Jesus fucking Christ just get it over with." The nurse must never have heard a curse word before because she squealed, "Oh no, I'm not gonna do anything for him if he's going to cuss at me." Never mind the fact I hadn't actually cussed at her, I was cussing about being woken up yet again and because I was in pain and was severely irritated.
Around 8 or 9 AM that Saturday morning the huffy high handed nurse practitioner from the day before led a coterie of nurses and one mealy mouthed doctor into my room and they all surrounded my sick bed where I lay in agony, not being able to shit or eat really fucks with one's mood. She started jabbering at me about cursing at 'her' nurses. I told her I didn't curse at her nurse, I was cursing about being sick and woken from a sound sleep. She kept on and and on expecting me to apologize. I refused. I told her my reaction was a perfectly normal one and that I was an adult who used language from time to time that others might find offensive and if she or her nurses didn't like it, tough shit. She kept on and on until I finally told her to leave. That was the last I saw of that brunette bitch.
A hour later the surgeon came into see me, and by this time Sparky was back by my side. He asked where the tube was and I told him I could not stand having it in. He told me it was a necessity and he reminded me that I might not have to have an operation if the tube helped decompress my stomach and bowel. He said there was no way I could not have the tube. So I reluctantly agreed. Once again it was hell on earth getting it up my nose and down into my stomach and I screamed even more than the night before. But this time the nurse who put it in me was able to get it down me in such a way that I didn't gag every time I swallowed.
I tried to rest after they got it in me but the surgeon's warning that I couldn't go home until the blockage was gone and that I could not eat until I had a bowel movement, which might not be for a week to 10 days after the blockage was gone rang in my ears. I knew I was in for more of an ordeal than I originally thought.
To be continued...
We went to the newest hospital in town, Franklin Woods Community Hospital. They got me in right away and pretty much diagnosed me with a blocked/obstructed bowel right away. The mousy little nurse practitioner told me they may have to operate if it didn't take care of itself. She said they'd have to put a tube up my nose that went down to my stomach to drain it and see if the stomach and bowel decompressed. I'm not sure about you but to me that sounded like hell so I told her no way was I getting a tube up my nose. So she ran out and wrote on my chart that I was refusing treatment.
A few hours later a nice young abdominal surgeon, the first and only MD I saw that day, came in and explained to me just what was going on with me and what needed to be done. He explained that I needed the tube to drain my stomach and that in many cases the draining would decompress the stomach and bowel which would result in the dislodging of the obstruction. He told me that if it didn't dislodge naturally, then they have to operate and cut out the obstructed portion of my bowel and reattach the bowel that was left to my stomach. Once he explained the gravity of the situation I quickly agreed to the tube, which is called an 'NGT Tube.' He went and wrote on my chart to admit me to the hospital and to get me the tube.
Not too long after he left a new nurse practitioner flounced into the room in the ER where I had spent all afternoon. She was all attitude and by gawd she knew what was right, the patient, me, be damned. She demanded I tell her my symptoms, even though I had told them many times to others. Then she demanded I tell her my medical history in detail. Not content to leave me alone in my pain, she then demanded I tell her what day it was, the date it was, the city I was in, and much more. She was rude, officious, and high handed. She ignored Sparky and acted like she wasn't the room with me. She left in a huff, I assumed she had more sick people to aggravate.
A few hours later I was taken up to a room and deposited in a bed. Bear in mind that I hadn't eaten anything, wasn't allowed to drink anything, and I hadn't pooped in a day or two. We sat waiting for someone, anyone, to come in and put the tube in my nose but despite a parade of nurses, no one ever did. Finally at nearly 9 PM Sparky had had enough, she buttonholed a nurse and asked why they had not put the tube in my nose yet. The nurse, not used to being questioned, looked shocked. She looked at my chart, which was on a computer, and she said it said that I had refused the tube. We told her in no uncertain terms that I had not refused the tube after I spoke to the surgeon. After another half hour they decided they were finally going to put the tube in my nose. Sparky and I both told them we wanted to know why it took them so long to get their shit together. We wanted to know why it took nearly 4 hours to get the tube in me. They looked down at their shoes and shuffled their feet and told us they'd get back to us on that, we're still waiting today for an answer.
When they greased up the tube and stuck it up my nose and down into my stomach it was hell. I screamed long and loud. It felt like the tube was going to go into my brain and then it felt like it was going gag me until I vomited again. Finally when it went into my stomach I could taste and smell the plastic-ness of the tube and every time I swallowed it hurt like hell. I felt like shit, no food, no pooping, and I had a tube that was making me sick up in my nose. I knew Sparky was freaking out despite her brave face, so I sent her home around 10:30 PM.
I tried in vain to get some rest and to drift off to sleep that night but my pain was great and that damn tube was killing me. Finally around 1 or 2 AM I asked them to take the tube out. They did and I finally fell asleep. But you never get to sleep through the night in a hospital. The kept waking me up to take my blood pressure or to take blood or to make sure I was alive. All that shit coupled with my pain made me one irritable mofro and around 5 or 6 AM a nurse woke me up to ask if she could take my blood pressure. I snapped. I had just a few hours of sound sleep, no food, hadn't been able to poop or pee, was hooked up to an uncomfortable IV, and I said, "Jesus fucking Christ just get it over with." The nurse must never have heard a curse word before because she squealed, "Oh no, I'm not gonna do anything for him if he's going to cuss at me." Never mind the fact I hadn't actually cussed at her, I was cussing about being woken up yet again and because I was in pain and was severely irritated.
Around 8 or 9 AM that Saturday morning the huffy high handed nurse practitioner from the day before led a coterie of nurses and one mealy mouthed doctor into my room and they all surrounded my sick bed where I lay in agony, not being able to shit or eat really fucks with one's mood. She started jabbering at me about cursing at 'her' nurses. I told her I didn't curse at her nurse, I was cursing about being sick and woken from a sound sleep. She kept on and and on expecting me to apologize. I refused. I told her my reaction was a perfectly normal one and that I was an adult who used language from time to time that others might find offensive and if she or her nurses didn't like it, tough shit. She kept on and on until I finally told her to leave. That was the last I saw of that brunette bitch.
A hour later the surgeon came into see me, and by this time Sparky was back by my side. He asked where the tube was and I told him I could not stand having it in. He told me it was a necessity and he reminded me that I might not have to have an operation if the tube helped decompress my stomach and bowel. He said there was no way I could not have the tube. So I reluctantly agreed. Once again it was hell on earth getting it up my nose and down into my stomach and I screamed even more than the night before. But this time the nurse who put it in me was able to get it down me in such a way that I didn't gag every time I swallowed.
I tried to rest after they got it in me but the surgeon's warning that I couldn't go home until the blockage was gone and that I could not eat until I had a bowel movement, which might not be for a week to 10 days after the blockage was gone rang in my ears. I knew I was in for more of an ordeal than I originally thought.
To be continued...
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Not dead yet
I got the staples taken out of my incision today. I have to go back and see the surgeon who operated on me in a month, after I see the oncologist. Depending on what the oncologist says, I may have to get a colonoscopy.
I'm not in near as much pain as I was but the diarrhea seems like it's going to kill me. However Dr. Luis, the guy who did my surgery, says it's normal to have diarrhea for months after the type of operation I had. Let's hope, for my sphincter's sake that it goes away soon and my poops are solid soon. Either way though, I'm glad to be pooping. And I'll be even gladder if there's no more cancer in me.
I'm not in near as much pain as I was but the diarrhea seems like it's going to kill me. However Dr. Luis, the guy who did my surgery, says it's normal to have diarrhea for months after the type of operation I had. Let's hope, for my sphincter's sake that it goes away soon and my poops are solid soon. Either way though, I'm glad to be pooping. And I'll be even gladder if there's no more cancer in me.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Three out of three bears agree
Is the right wing outrage machine correct? Should we ignore Michelle Obama's plea to stop feeding kids in the USA the kinds of food that makes them obese?
"Ummmm, yes. You should stop trying to make them lose weight. We like your kids fat and stubby legged. They can't run very fast when we go after them and it's so much fun eating their bloated little bodies. Nom. Nom. Nom. So remember, ignore Michelle Obama and keep feeding those little lard ass kids of yours all that processed food, all that fast food, and keep stuffing them full of cheap meats and cheeses."
"I agree. Keep porking those kids up so I don't have to keep eating fish. You think it's a fucking cakewalk hunting fish in these cold ass streams? It's not. And I hate the taste of fish so if you keep feeding your kids shit, they'll keep getting fat, and we'll keep eating them when they wander off while you're out here in the wild. It's all your fault you know. You kept ignoring all those 'Do Not Feed the Bears' signs and we bears got fat as a result. Hang on...how do I know what those signs said? And how do I know I'm a bear? Have I attained consciousness? Hey, is that a fat little white kid staring at me while he licks an ice cream cone? Damn, that little fucker looks tasty. I'mma eat that motherfucker...see ya'll later."
"Ummmm, yes. You should stop trying to make them lose weight. We like your kids fat and stubby legged. They can't run very fast when we go after them and it's so much fun eating their bloated little bodies. Nom. Nom. Nom. So remember, ignore Michelle Obama and keep feeding those little lard ass kids of yours all that processed food, all that fast food, and keep stuffing them full of cheap meats and cheeses."
"I agree. Keep porking those kids up so I don't have to keep eating fish. You think it's a fucking cakewalk hunting fish in these cold ass streams? It's not. And I hate the taste of fish so if you keep feeding your kids shit, they'll keep getting fat, and we'll keep eating them when they wander off while you're out here in the wild. It's all your fault you know. You kept ignoring all those 'Do Not Feed the Bears' signs and we bears got fat as a result. Hang on...how do I know what those signs said? And how do I know I'm a bear? Have I attained consciousness? Hey, is that a fat little white kid staring at me while he licks an ice cream cone? Damn, that little fucker looks tasty. I'mma eat that motherfucker...see ya'll later."
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