Romney is sickening and ridiculous, but Romney and Ryan is dangerous. Please let us be smarter than when we went to the polls and elected W, I’m scared and so damned sick of tall, white men wanting to tell everyone else what to do, and ultimately only serving themselves. And that is the perfect segue into local politics where I’d like to tell any local friends that I’m really excited to be avidly supporting Maryellen Butke for State Senate in District 3. You know me, I’ve done my research, and I am really impressed with Maryellen -- her years and years of work in public education reform, her commitment to getting gay marriage passed in Rhode Island and the knowledgeable {she has all the degrees you could possibly want} and human way she embodies a truly progressive point of view.
I’m thinking of having one of those meet and greet gatherings at my house for her, something I’ve never done or even attended, but it’s got to be soon, the primary is on Sept. 11. I’ve already said I would do it but I’m looking at my schedule of last chemo and surgery and I know I’m biting off more than I can chew, at the same time, it seems a really important thing to do as I think she’s going into this as a bit of an underdog, since Rhoda Perry hand-picked her replacement and she’s got all the powers that be behind her. So very sick and tired of not doing the things I want to do, I think I’m going to really suck it up and do this or I’ll hate myself.
I was at the grocery store yesterday and a woman came flying towards me with the biggest breasts, just wobbling out of her shirt and I thought to myself “nice ones” and that shocked even me. That is just not something I’m used to thinking, nice ones? Oh my god, and they were huge, i’ve never wanted huge breasts and still don’t, are they putting testosterone in my chemo drip? They really were more scary than nice, but there is my brain saying “nice ones”. This obsession with breasts isn’t maudlin, it’s just constant and weird and takes me by surprise over and over again. So if we’re having coffee together, yeah, I’m looking at your boobs, please don’t be uncomfortable, but do slap me if I try to touch them.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Friday, August 10, 2012
Premature
Awwww, last day of camp for little boy who couldn't tear himself away. Hugs, and more hugs, high fives, but mostly hugs, the kind where you smoosh your face into the other person. Everyone who darkens our doorstep is invited to his film festival which while fabulous is a bit long, patience has been well forthcoming. I don't think he's ever had such total, relentless, non-stop fun in his whole life, it's a beautiful thing when you find your tribe.
My thoughts today are with David Rakoff {mentioned in a previous post} who died last night at 47 years old when the cancer he'd been keeping at bay decided to get him. Writer, performer, very human being. Sad. Pointless. Premature. Unfair how much he went through. R.I.P. David Rakoff.
My thoughts today are with David Rakoff {mentioned in a previous post} who died last night at 47 years old when the cancer he'd been keeping at bay decided to get him. Writer, performer, very human being. Sad. Pointless. Premature. Unfair how much he went through. R.I.P. David Rakoff.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Garbage Disposal
When I heard through the grapevine than my acquaintance, and son’s former 7th grade english teacher had breast cancer I felt disproportionately upset {redundant, I know, I’ve told this story}. I felt some inexplicable connection to this person I didn’t know well and I was utterly compelled to barge right into her life and be her friend and support her anyway I could, whether I was actually of any help, of course, could be debated. These things have no rhyme or reason and in this case I wound up with the better part of the deal because she’s been an amazing source of support for me as I now go through this appalling odyssey. Friends for life, I have no doubt.
Last week, my favorite of all household luxuries, the garbage disposal broke. Yes, I know they’re bad for the environment, I don’t care, I must have a garbage disposal, I could sooner live without a dishwasher, air conditioner, anything, so I called my plumber. He’s been my plumber for a decade {but how often do you see your plumber?} and a cantankerous old character, yes, anyone older than me gets called old, he’s not that old. Well, don’t judge a book by it’s cover. He’s a hunter and a fisherman and makes his own sausage, his own wine and it turns out, is a gourmet cook who likes to wear a chef's hat, who would have guessed? A man’s man who doesn’t like small children, he’d “drown them all” if he had the chance and now I learn he was a nurse, a medic in Vietnam. I don’t think you could find two people more seemingly different than {blank} the plumber and I. I’ve always called him {insert real name here} the plumber, but I’m leaving his name out as I leave everyone’s name out, so I’m referring to him here as blank-the-plumber. I have to admit, I’ve always had a soft spot for him and his cranky humor and we always joke around when he’s fixing my cranky old house pipes. And yeah, the guy who painted my house 10 years ago is now counted among my closest dearest friends. What can I say, I’m chatty and I think we outsider, self-employed folk are attracted to one another no matter how different we are.
The etiquette of cancer is tricky. I don’t like to shock people, but what do you say to someone you’re going to see who doesn’t know? When he called to say he was coming over to fix my disposal I blurted out -- don’t be shocked when you see me, I’ve been a little sick, I look a little different. He was confused so I said “o.k., I have cancer and I’m bald, but it’s fine, don’t worry about it, I just didn’t want you to be shocked when you saw me.”
Blank-the-plumber had the same response to me as I did to G's teacher, he was really, really affected. There is the deepest humanity and kindness where you least expect it. Blank is an oldest sibling with five younger sisters and he says now I’m sister #6. He called me the next day and said he talked to his wife about me and they’re all in, they really want to be there for me. Since then he’s dropped off vegetables from his garden twice and showed up yesterday with a shaved head. “when you grow hair, I’ll grow hair, it’s no big deal.” I’ve seen pictures of his cabin, his pets, his life and I can now tell you that Blank-the-plumber is my friend for life and I’m completely uplifted by the sweet amazing soul he covers up with all that faux crankiness.
The biggest of hearts lurk in the most unexpected places {as do the smallest}.
When something life changing like an illness or a loss hits your life, it’s guaranteed that your relationships will reorganize themselves, I’ve been there before and it’s not just me, anyone will tell you this who’s been there. The person you look to for support may be the first to flee, while your rock, your indispensible person might be who you least expected. I’ve been lucky this time around, I have gained so many amazing people and relationships on this trek. Encountered so much kindness and generosity, sincerity and strength. From the folks on my street I barely knew to the long ago friends who’ve popped up after 25 years. And next week, I’m having lunch with my plumber who is now my friend.
My only quandary is how to deal with the friends who’ve vanished. The folks I thought would be there and called once or twice early on and were gone, the “call me when you’re feeling better and we’ll have dinner.” Maybe I’ll never hear from them again which might be preferable. I don’t know how to answer, “how’s it going? what are you up to?” from someone who’s been incommunicado through all of this helter skelter madness, where would you begin? It’s not a matter of being mad, or holding grudges, that’s not me, it’s just really truly, where do you begin? I can’t imagine what I would say, how would I not feel alienated, estranged? I’m not the same person, you just can’t go through something this big and all encompassing and be the same person on the other end {of which there really isn’t one} and if someone hasn’t been vaguely tuned in to either real me or blog me, I just feel like they wouldn’t know me anymore. That’s why I’m so grateful to this blog and to everyone who reads it, skims it, stays tuned in even a little, because I will be able to see you a week or a year from now and not feel like an alien, not feel self-conscious, because you’ve stuck with me, you know where I’ve been and I am forever grateful to you for keeping me tethered.
Last week, my favorite of all household luxuries, the garbage disposal broke. Yes, I know they’re bad for the environment, I don’t care, I must have a garbage disposal, I could sooner live without a dishwasher, air conditioner, anything, so I called my plumber. He’s been my plumber for a decade {but how often do you see your plumber?} and a cantankerous old character, yes, anyone older than me gets called old, he’s not that old. Well, don’t judge a book by it’s cover. He’s a hunter and a fisherman and makes his own sausage, his own wine and it turns out, is a gourmet cook who likes to wear a chef's hat, who would have guessed? A man’s man who doesn’t like small children, he’d “drown them all” if he had the chance and now I learn he was a nurse, a medic in Vietnam. I don’t think you could find two people more seemingly different than {blank} the plumber and I. I’ve always called him {insert real name here} the plumber, but I’m leaving his name out as I leave everyone’s name out, so I’m referring to him here as blank-the-plumber. I have to admit, I’ve always had a soft spot for him and his cranky humor and we always joke around when he’s fixing my cranky old house pipes. And yeah, the guy who painted my house 10 years ago is now counted among my closest dearest friends. What can I say, I’m chatty and I think we outsider, self-employed folk are attracted to one another no matter how different we are.
The etiquette of cancer is tricky. I don’t like to shock people, but what do you say to someone you’re going to see who doesn’t know? When he called to say he was coming over to fix my disposal I blurted out -- don’t be shocked when you see me, I’ve been a little sick, I look a little different. He was confused so I said “o.k., I have cancer and I’m bald, but it’s fine, don’t worry about it, I just didn’t want you to be shocked when you saw me.”
Blank-the-plumber had the same response to me as I did to G's teacher, he was really, really affected. There is the deepest humanity and kindness where you least expect it. Blank is an oldest sibling with five younger sisters and he says now I’m sister #6. He called me the next day and said he talked to his wife about me and they’re all in, they really want to be there for me. Since then he’s dropped off vegetables from his garden twice and showed up yesterday with a shaved head. “when you grow hair, I’ll grow hair, it’s no big deal.” I’ve seen pictures of his cabin, his pets, his life and I can now tell you that Blank-the-plumber is my friend for life and I’m completely uplifted by the sweet amazing soul he covers up with all that faux crankiness.
The biggest of hearts lurk in the most unexpected places {as do the smallest}.
When something life changing like an illness or a loss hits your life, it’s guaranteed that your relationships will reorganize themselves, I’ve been there before and it’s not just me, anyone will tell you this who’s been there. The person you look to for support may be the first to flee, while your rock, your indispensible person might be who you least expected. I’ve been lucky this time around, I have gained so many amazing people and relationships on this trek. Encountered so much kindness and generosity, sincerity and strength. From the folks on my street I barely knew to the long ago friends who’ve popped up after 25 years. And next week, I’m having lunch with my plumber who is now my friend.
My only quandary is how to deal with the friends who’ve vanished. The folks I thought would be there and called once or twice early on and were gone, the “call me when you’re feeling better and we’ll have dinner.” Maybe I’ll never hear from them again which might be preferable. I don’t know how to answer, “how’s it going? what are you up to?” from someone who’s been incommunicado through all of this helter skelter madness, where would you begin? It’s not a matter of being mad, or holding grudges, that’s not me, it’s just really truly, where do you begin? I can’t imagine what I would say, how would I not feel alienated, estranged? I’m not the same person, you just can’t go through something this big and all encompassing and be the same person on the other end {of which there really isn’t one} and if someone hasn’t been vaguely tuned in to either real me or blog me, I just feel like they wouldn’t know me anymore. That’s why I’m so grateful to this blog and to everyone who reads it, skims it, stays tuned in even a little, because I will be able to see you a week or a year from now and not feel like an alien, not feel self-conscious, because you’ve stuck with me, you know where I’ve been and I am forever grateful to you for keeping me tethered.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Post Office
I was walking into the post office this afternoon with actual finished wholesale orders, hooray, actual productivity happened this week. I wound up walking alongside a big, beautiful, bald, black man. I only mention his color because it completes such a fine alliteration and I love a good alliteration. I said "nice haircut" and he looked at me, suppressed initial shock and laughed. We commiserated on how hard it is to shave one's head and he was impressed I was doing it myself and hadn't cut myself yet. He lamented that people think it's so easy to be bald, but it's a lot of work, amen. We reached the entrance and went our separate ways.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
So There!
The powers that be are wrong, wrong, wrong, Citizen Kane is the best movie ever made and should another film overtake it, Vertigo is not it. Vertigo isn't even Hitchcock's best, and while I love him, and The 39 Steps and Rear Window are among my favorite movies, they are not the best ever made. So there errant list makers!
Every year, my beloved Artbeat in Somerville has a different theme and logo and they sell t-shirts of the designs. Sometimes I buy the shirt, but I wind up never wearing it because high, constricting t-shirt necks drive me crazy, it's no great mystery where my kids get their sensory issues from. This year I bought the spaghetti strapped tank top which I never would have attempted to house the big kahunas in, but today I'm wearing it and I love it! So comfortable and on a hot day, no sweat underneath or between them, certainly no bra, it's bliss. I love how I look in the mirror with a cute skirt to match, I don't feel one bit less feminine, so there plastic surgeons! True, I can't work the cleavage, but do I want a man who's only criteria is cleavage? Should I be nominated for an Academy Award, my fabulous fashion choices would indeed by limited, which is a shame, but I think I can live with that. I would, I admit, like my hair back, I feel like I've experienced baldness fully, there's nothing more to gain, luckily according to my estimates, I think it should start growing back in 4-6 weeks, so there, chrome dome!
I've had the nicest damned weekend... wait, if it was nice, how could it be damned, that is a really odd phrase. It's remarkable how one's mood can be contingent on how their body is feeling. Compared to last week, I feel fabulous, yeah my feet are numb, my port is pinching me, my back is achy from the Neupogen shots which they call the "bone crusher", but this is nothing akin to where I've been so many times in the last year, different countries, different planets, so I feel great and really happy, so there stupid cancer! Actually, I've gotten off so lightly with the Neupogen, I get occasional mild aches from it, I only needed an advil once or twice, I've heard of people debilitated by it.
Yesterday I had a visit from a friend I hadn't seen in 25{ish} years and it was lovely. I kidnapped J from his dad to take him to our friend's arts and crafts party. This couple and my son are kindred spirits, artists all and I think they are his fairy art parents, they chat as peers about their ideas and it's adorable and really important I think, for kids to have other special adults in their life, so I am mightily grateful for their relationship to him and of course, I love them just as much.
This morning, I woke up to an empty house which doesn't seem to happen all that often and it was a slice of heaven to be able to just doze on and off until 11:00 a.m. Quiet, no rushing, no doing anything for anyone except me. I picked up a treat and an iced tea and spent 3-4 quality, productive hours in the studio and then someone called and asked if I'd like to come over for dinner... hell yes! Tomorrow I mail off three wholesale orders, start a long over due custom piece, and enjoy the day before I'm back in the tank on Tuesday which I don't even mind doing because I'm done with the Carboplatin which is pure evil, done with you Carbo, so there!!!
Every year, my beloved Artbeat in Somerville has a different theme and logo and they sell t-shirts of the designs. Sometimes I buy the shirt, but I wind up never wearing it because high, constricting t-shirt necks drive me crazy, it's no great mystery where my kids get their sensory issues from. This year I bought the spaghetti strapped tank top which I never would have attempted to house the big kahunas in, but today I'm wearing it and I love it! So comfortable and on a hot day, no sweat underneath or between them, certainly no bra, it's bliss. I love how I look in the mirror with a cute skirt to match, I don't feel one bit less feminine, so there plastic surgeons! True, I can't work the cleavage, but do I want a man who's only criteria is cleavage? Should I be nominated for an Academy Award, my fabulous fashion choices would indeed by limited, which is a shame, but I think I can live with that. I would, I admit, like my hair back, I feel like I've experienced baldness fully, there's nothing more to gain, luckily according to my estimates, I think it should start growing back in 4-6 weeks, so there, chrome dome!
I've had the nicest damned weekend... wait, if it was nice, how could it be damned, that is a really odd phrase. It's remarkable how one's mood can be contingent on how their body is feeling. Compared to last week, I feel fabulous, yeah my feet are numb, my port is pinching me, my back is achy from the Neupogen shots which they call the "bone crusher", but this is nothing akin to where I've been so many times in the last year, different countries, different planets, so I feel great and really happy, so there stupid cancer! Actually, I've gotten off so lightly with the Neupogen, I get occasional mild aches from it, I only needed an advil once or twice, I've heard of people debilitated by it.
Yesterday I had a visit from a friend I hadn't seen in 25{ish} years and it was lovely. I kidnapped J from his dad to take him to our friend's arts and crafts party. This couple and my son are kindred spirits, artists all and I think they are his fairy art parents, they chat as peers about their ideas and it's adorable and really important I think, for kids to have other special adults in their life, so I am mightily grateful for their relationship to him and of course, I love them just as much.
This morning, I woke up to an empty house which doesn't seem to happen all that often and it was a slice of heaven to be able to just doze on and off until 11:00 a.m. Quiet, no rushing, no doing anything for anyone except me. I picked up a treat and an iced tea and spent 3-4 quality, productive hours in the studio and then someone called and asked if I'd like to come over for dinner... hell yes! Tomorrow I mail off three wholesale orders, start a long over due custom piece, and enjoy the day before I'm back in the tank on Tuesday which I don't even mind doing because I'm done with the Carboplatin which is pure evil, done with you Carbo, so there!!!
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Toasted Marshmallow Heaven
What a difference a few red blood cells make. In the last few days I've spent a little time in the studio, and gone on a boy date with G to eat fish and chips and see Batman. We both loved it, but it requires a little more than the usual suspension of disbelief. Like how did he Bruce Wayne get from this part of the world to that in three minutes enabling him to save the world. I know all these sci-fi, superhero movies require we do this, but it's the movie makers job to make it plausible despite being in the realm of implausible and it can be done. Still, great fun, mindless entertainment, nice night out, first in ages.
The next night my friend C and I took J to the outdoor movie downtown to see It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World which was the movie that was always on t.v. when I was growing up. I remembered the great ending but not how long and rage filled it was. Sheesh, one scene of angry men and screetching women after another, chaos, mayhem and wanton destruction... all in god fun, but I was bored silly. We only made it through half, I'll have to rent it so he can see the end. I'm just really happy that J is becoming so much more amenable to getting out and about.
I saw the film fest at J's camp featuring his John the Gentlemanly Cow which can be viewed here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-xTkDIImzQ It makes me smile no matter how many times I watch it. His filmmaking group did a spoof of the Hunger Games. His camp is called RISE camp and is on the grounds of one of our posh local private schools, the competing private school is Wheeler School which also has a summer camp. So they did the RISE Games where the winning home base is showered with endless milk and cookies and the losers are banished to "wheeler-no-fun-camp" and features Catnip Evergreen and Peeta Bread. It was zany and funny and clever and showed a bunch of kids having a damned great time.
I have friends from N.Y. that camp every year at Burlingame State Park in Southern Rhode Island, a tradition they started many years ago because it was equidistant between my friend and her sister in Maine. We usually go visit for the day, but last year the guys and I camped out with them and had the most perfect time. Couldn't camp out this year, had to get back for my shot and just not quite up to it, but J and I drove down yesterday after camp and got to have some campfire time and s'mores and we had such a nice time. J was really bummed we weren't sleeping over, but that makes me excited for next year because it's not often he wants to be away from home. G couldn't come due to football get-your-equipment day, but when I returned the lawn had been mowed to cap off a good day.
My plan was to pick up J at camp and hit the road, but after picking him up I realized I'd forgotten to get gas, forgotten to get my shot and myriad other forgottens. They should add some brain cells to the blood cells for a full on boost.
I'm about to go get today's shot where I have to go into the main hospital because the oncology clinic is closed. I hate going over there, I have to go to the dreariest floor, maybe they're all that dreary, although I think there's a new wing somewhere or other. The room doors are always open and I know it's bad form to look in, but I can't help peeking and you see such sadness. Mostly very old people, but some young and terribly emaciated and no one looks like they're coming out in good shape. I dread ever being on that floor. Sometimes my brief glances turn into indelible snapshots I will never forget, the most powerful of which was of an old lady sleeping while clutching a stuffed cat to her chest. She broke my heart and I don't even know why. Once you're an old lady, you've won the lottery, you've gotten to live a full, long life. And who knows, I'm likely to be clutching a stuffed cat at some point. I really don't know why I can't stop thinking of this lady who I know only from glimpsing for two seconds, but she's always in my mind.
The next night my friend C and I took J to the outdoor movie downtown to see It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World which was the movie that was always on t.v. when I was growing up. I remembered the great ending but not how long and rage filled it was. Sheesh, one scene of angry men and screetching women after another, chaos, mayhem and wanton destruction... all in god fun, but I was bored silly. We only made it through half, I'll have to rent it so he can see the end. I'm just really happy that J is becoming so much more amenable to getting out and about.
I saw the film fest at J's camp featuring his John the Gentlemanly Cow which can be viewed here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-xTkDIImzQ It makes me smile no matter how many times I watch it. His filmmaking group did a spoof of the Hunger Games. His camp is called RISE camp and is on the grounds of one of our posh local private schools, the competing private school is Wheeler School which also has a summer camp. So they did the RISE Games where the winning home base is showered with endless milk and cookies and the losers are banished to "wheeler-no-fun-camp" and features Catnip Evergreen and Peeta Bread. It was zany and funny and clever and showed a bunch of kids having a damned great time.
I have friends from N.Y. that camp every year at Burlingame State Park in Southern Rhode Island, a tradition they started many years ago because it was equidistant between my friend and her sister in Maine. We usually go visit for the day, but last year the guys and I camped out with them and had the most perfect time. Couldn't camp out this year, had to get back for my shot and just not quite up to it, but J and I drove down yesterday after camp and got to have some campfire time and s'mores and we had such a nice time. J was really bummed we weren't sleeping over, but that makes me excited for next year because it's not often he wants to be away from home. G couldn't come due to football get-your-equipment day, but when I returned the lawn had been mowed to cap off a good day.
My plan was to pick up J at camp and hit the road, but after picking him up I realized I'd forgotten to get gas, forgotten to get my shot and myriad other forgottens. They should add some brain cells to the blood cells for a full on boost.
I'm about to go get today's shot where I have to go into the main hospital because the oncology clinic is closed. I hate going over there, I have to go to the dreariest floor, maybe they're all that dreary, although I think there's a new wing somewhere or other. The room doors are always open and I know it's bad form to look in, but I can't help peeking and you see such sadness. Mostly very old people, but some young and terribly emaciated and no one looks like they're coming out in good shape. I dread ever being on that floor. Sometimes my brief glances turn into indelible snapshots I will never forget, the most powerful of which was of an old lady sleeping while clutching a stuffed cat to her chest. She broke my heart and I don't even know why. Once you're an old lady, you've won the lottery, you've gotten to live a full, long life. And who knows, I'm likely to be clutching a stuffed cat at some point. I really don't know why I can't stop thinking of this lady who I know only from glimpsing for two seconds, but she's always in my mind.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Abridged
Just wanted to let you know I'm feeling 1000x better. In fact I'm so busy feeling better and knowing that a new chemo is just days away, I'm putting off posting in favor of getting out and about because I know each new day is unpredictable and if I'm feeling well enough to be out, I'm out. So no worries friends, I'm much improved and will report in soon.
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