Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Comfortable Chairs

Ah, the land of the sick. I am sitting in one of those barcaloungers they seem to provide for you in every room where they have IVs. I'm at UCLA (this was written yesterday) and they are drawing blood (yuck, my least favorite procedure) and they are going to give me an injection that's supposed to make my heart beat very fast and then one hour later they draw more blood.

Sound like fun to you? Isn't this how you'd really like to spend your Monday afternoon?

I brought a book. Philip Roth. Everyman. It's about mortality. Sounds appropriate, don't you think?

And speaking of mortality...

Trying to put that positive spin on this completely unbelievable situation, I decided to come up with reasons why it might not be so bad to leave the planet a little earlier than planned. Hey, I'm just trying to come up with some comforting thoughts that might help me through all of this...just in case. So here goes...

Traffic - I would never have to be stuck on the 405 again. (Oh my gosh, is that really the first reason I can come up with that makes death worth while? That is pathetic. Traffic is no reason to die. Please don't mention that to anyone or they might just shoot me for being a pointless, useless human being.)

People. Yes, I love most people but there are some whom I would have to classify as annoying. Go through my blog and you'll notice a few of them. Or there are the kind who look at you like you're dead already or are going to be any minute now. I hate that. Or they talk to you on the phone like you're deaf because they figure that you're sick so that means all of your bodily functions are falling apart and that must include your hearing.

Waiting Rooms. In the last year I have sat in way too many waiting rooms with way too many old people. Rarely is there someone younger than I am. And thank goodness for that, on one level. But that makes me feel like I am definitely in the wrong room because a/ I'm not old yet and b/ I cannot be sick like these people. I'm a healthy gal. Everyone always used to comment on how healthy I was because I ate pounds of broccoli and no red meat and no crap at all and I exercised and are you kidding me I end up in rooms full of very sick old people? This cannot be. And I want out of these rooms because sometimes these rooms just bum me out. Especially after all this time. Remember, I thought 2008 was going to be a banner year? Well, what the hell happened? I seem to be back to where I started from only more so. About to start an experimental drug. You realize that an experiment means they have run out of tested drugs that worked on thousands of people but obviously not on me so I became a little guinea pig running around the little (really gigantic) UCLA cage while they take my blood over and over and do other odd things to me that make me feel woozy and a whole bunch of faceless doctors and drug companies are looking down into my little cage to see if I'm going to fall over after I take their experimental pills or if I'm going to run around and put another ball into a hole so I can get another piece of cheese. For this I should go on living?

Yes. Yes, I suppose I should. I'm lucky I live in an age when they have clinical trials. And I guess if you are thinking about people's lives and how they turn out and if they're interesting, there is something interesting about becoming a guinea pig in your middle years. Now how many people can say that is what they decided to do after their career dried up due to ageism. They didn't go live in Europe, they didn't travel to exotic countries, they didn't teach, they decided to become...A GUINEA PIG. Interesting choice. Probably a really stupid choice. Come on, I'd much rather be in an exotic country. Guinea pig...Exotic country...Exotic country...Guinea pig...Who knows, maybe I'll still end up in Japan. A guinea pig in an exotic country. Not a bad way to end up.

Well, I guess my list of reasons to leave the earth leaves something to be desired. Traffic and annoying people. Not enough. So I'm screwed. There really are no good reasons to leave. Except you have to. You have no choice. Oh wait, there is the election. If it goes a certain way that may be the perfect time to get out of here. Some people talk about moving to Canada. Why not go where no man has gone before? After this election, if it goes the way of the beauty queen, that might not be such a bad idea.

But I am certainly hanging around long enough to vote. And then we shall see. Hey, maybe this experiment will work. Now wouldn't that be totally fab. That's where my mind is going. Yes, I am going to get that piece of cheese. Why not? I'm due for some good news.

Thursday I take my first pill. Should be interesting...........................................


Leslie said...

For all of us who are following your blog and wishing only the best for you....you're our Tinkerbell and we're all clapping very hard right now. Go for it and be among those for whom this new drug will work! Keep up your positive perspective and that White Team spirit (no, this is NOT an ethnic slur for all of you non-Agawak folks).


Sister Mary Martha said...

A clinical trial also means that a drug has shown enough promise to give it a whirl. That's promising!

Will was here the other day and I missed him. Drat.