The Killer Nectarine

I feel like shit and it all started yesterday when I ate half of a nectarine for breakfast. I almost immediately went into some sort of nectarine coma and I couldn't see straight and I felt light headed and sick and oh my gosh that fruit tasted SO GOOD and I was hoping it would go down well but it almost killed me. I am trying to figure out what the hell is happening to me. So I went to the oncologist yesterday. Dr. Shaum. I haven't seen her since October, which is normal. Here's the good news, my fainting and vomiting is not because of cancer. Here's the bad news.................No one seems to know what the hell it's from. Except post surgery changes in my most basic system. Dr. Shaum was not happy with my weight loss. Here's the totally neurotic crazy thing...I have lost almost thirty pounds and I still feel that I have to take off my shoes when I get weighed. Are we all like insanely anorexic? So I told her that I can't eat, I have no appetite and I throw up once or twice a day. "Hmmmmm." She said. "I don't like that."

Neither do I.

So she scheduled an MRI for me for next week. The kind where you drink a bottle of stuff that glows as you go through the machine. This way she'll be able to tell if there is a blockage that is keeping me from eating properly. Now first of all, I don't know how I'm going to drink that "bottle" of stuff because I can barely swallow a spoonful of soup. And secondly, my MRI is on Valentines Day. Not that I think that day is anything but a great boon for Hallmark cards but...You know. I'll be going through that machine trying not to throw up and thinking about when I used to be able to go out for dinner on Valentines Day. Eat a great turkey burger at Hals. And a martini or a Cosmo. I can't even imagine that now. Yesterday I ate a teaspoonful of peanut butter and an apple slice for dinner. Alcohol? Forget it. Maybe I'm supposed to be a nun. Mother Teresa was very thin and I'll bet she didn't have any Cosmos. No Manalo Blahniks. Actually, I hate those shoes. Those pointy things. Are they supposed to be sexy? Yes, to sadistic and sleazy men. Maybe if Hillary is elected she will put an end to overly pointy shoes. Yes, that's what's missing from her platform. (Hey, no more platform shoes!) I'm an Obama supporter but if she comes out for no pointy shoes I just may have to rethink my vote.

But I digress. I feel really badly these days and it's all because of not being able to eat or hold anything down. It is a royal, major bummer. If ever there was a time to use the word bummer, it is now. I used to say, "Man, we missed the movie. What a bummer." No... Missing a movie is not a bummer. Not being able to stand up for more than five minutes...THAT is a bummer.

I'm going to see a nutritionist. What I'd really like to do is to ask the nutritionist to move in with me for a month and cook me little tiny meals all day and rub my back and walk with me but I think she's only going to suggest a menu. I used to know how to eat. I was...hahaha...very healthy. And then they cut out my insides and now I am all screwed up and I'm telling you there is not a day that goes by that I don't wonder if I made the right decision to have that surgery. I don't think I can live the rest of my life feeling like I do now. Sometimes I think I'm going to have to have that feeding tube reinserted so I can get nutrition through that during the night. How's that for an insane thought? Put back the thing they took out that caused that infection and now they have to open me up again and..............None of it is directly related to cancer! Could I have not lived with that tumor until I just plotzed dead right there on Santa Monica Boulevard? I felt fine then. I could swim and do yoga and lie on my stomach. This is a bummer of a challenge and you know what?...........I DON'T LIKE IT!!

I got into my car the other day with a friend and she asked me where the rattle was coming from. So I asked her..."What rattle?" And she pointed out this little noise that was coming from my CD player. I had never noticed it before. But it drove her crazy. She spent most of the ride trying to fix it. SHE actually drove me much crazier than the rattle. Those things, little car things, don't bother me. So it rattles. It's a car. If I made a rattling sound, now THAT would be annoying.

Actually, I do make a rattling sound. I need someone to look under my hood and fix my carburator. Oh, if only it was that easy.