All Google is good for is telling me I'm dying of cancer.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Thank you to Google. Thanks for returning so many search results so that you could warn me that I was about to die because of the mole on my arm. You know what, Google? If you're going to be telling me that I'm about to die, you should offer up some primo health insurance for me as well. I somehow highly doubt that they offer chemotherapy at Planned Parenthood. Frankly, it would ruin the rest of my short life to think of the medical bills, so I really would just rather ride this out and start feeling really crazy one day and pass out and hit my head and die and have everyone find out that it was because of a tumor AFTER the fact because all we're going to do up until then is cry a lot and clip coupons.

I ask you all to take this stance into consideration when pondering whether or not to warn me that the mole on my arm looks strange. I'm mental and I don't need you freaking me out. A stronger person would take it as concern and help, but I am weak and helpless when it comes to things like numbers, filling out paperwork, showing up to my chemo on time and remembering to take a million pills a day.