I watched Crazy Sexy Cancer over the weekend, and no, I didn’t cry. What I did wonder more than once though, as this actress sells her New York City apartment and uses the money to finance her film and her education in cancer and cancer treatments, is whether anyone ever does documentaries on cancer patients who have say, Medicaid. Or are completely uninsured. Forget about paying for a nine week retreat in the desert to learn about self-administered colonics and juicing your own wheat grass; what happens to the people who can’t even get a second opinion, or whose tumors aren’t caught by the bleary eyed ER doc who treats them for pain when they go to the hospital because that’s the only health care you can get without having to pay up front? I guess to an extent that’s what Sicko was about, huh?

That’s not why I’m writing, though. My point is, this chick, she went on a raw food diet, juiced her own wheat grass, and did a few other freaky things and at the end of the movie the oncologist told her that her cancer was as slow moving as cancer that doesn’t move at all.

So. I didn’t get a Vitamix, like the heroine of the film, but I did spend the equivalent of an office visit with a holistic doctor to instead buy myself a juicer tonight. It’s a beautiful juicer, Internet. And it matches the appliances, which is important since it’s so big it won’t fit in a cabinet. It won’t juice wheat grass but I’m pretty sure I can live without that feature.

I’m going on a juice fast, friends. And to celebrate, we had pizza tonight. Now, I haven’t eaten wheat in several weeks and I’m a little scared of what will happen to my poor body tonight, but I’m counting on the juice to heal me or at least cancel out my transgressions, which tonight included French fries and coca-cola in addition to the pizza. Oh God, but what a way to go out! No Dominoes for us, no frozen fries. Somehow we managed to find real New York style pizza, and fries cut fresh from fresh potatoes and fried in pure peanut oil. The Holy Grail(s) of fast food, right there beside each other in the new shopping center where I bought Sam. (I’m going to call the juicer Sam. I’m not sure why.)

Our grocery bill will surely double if I keep this up for very long. I keep repeating to myself that Prevention is the Key, and that in the long run, if I continue being passive, this expense will never equal what we would spend on pain meds, nannies, housekeepers, and arthritis support gadgets. I have to at least make this effort to be my own advocate, to aggressively self-treat this with elimination of all allergens and a total body cleanse.

I let you know how it goes, if I have the strength to type as the days progress.