Nothing............

Usually when I sit down to write I have some idea in my head of what I am going to write about. Today, there seems to be nothing in my head. But I decided that I hadn't written anything in a while and I know when I don't write some people think I'm slipping into unconsciousness or maybe dying so I thought I at least write about what I actually am doing during the days of silence. Hmmmm. So maybe there was actually something going on in my mind to write about. Maybe it wasn't just a big blank nothing of the brain.

You know what would be nice...If when I didn't write people thought that maybe I was on a wild vacation to the rain forest or maybe I'd met someone and was spending so much time with him I didn't have a moment to sit and write, of all things. Actually, I've been thinking about that quite a bit lately. THAT being going out with someone. Since I haven't been with anyone except one man in the last twenty five years it feels almost impossible for me to hang out with someone new. It's kind of scary. When I last met someone and fell in love I was a young woman in her mid thirties. Now I'm a middle aged woman...Bald woman at that but with a great wig...And I've had cancer and I'm way beyond the age of pregnancy and family so a new relationship would be an entirely different kind of relationship. Sex would be different. And , oh my gosh, I just remembered that I eat mostly with a tube. How sexy is that? NOT! I haven't even been in a restaurant in months. I can't drink right now. Maybe a sip. I would be a horrible date. Who on earth would want to go out with someone who eats through a tube?! What was I thinking? Of course, maybe there's a man out there who also eats through a tube. Oh, that is just so NOT romantic. I think I'd better drop this entire fantasy until I've healed up a bit and don't take pain pills anymore and can go out and have a little shrimp cocktail in a proper restaurant. On the other hand there is a woman that I truly admire whose husband died when she was in her mid fifties and she's now almost ninety and she was never with another man for more than a few dates and she's had a pretty damn good life without a steady man and now that I'm thinking I know plenty of women who do just fine with friends and family and after all I did have a marriage and a family and it was fun and some people don't even get that so what am I whining about? I'm whining because, let's face it, I am a whiner. Awwwwww. Poor me. Poor wittle me. (and yes the w is on purpose.) Here is one thing I try not to do...Look at other people I think are happy and resent them. Hate them, really. How come they have a good life and get to be happy and blahblahblah? Because sometimes I get so pissed off that all of this happened to me later in life instead of early in life so I have to rush to figure out how to make things work out so I don't end my life in misery. Even if I didn't have cancer to deal with I wouldn't have that much time left to get to the really happy place again but with this asshole cancer thing it makes time seem even more pressing. I'VE GOT TO BE HAPPY AND SOON DAMMIT. I've got to figure out what makes me happy and just do that and the damn thing was that I WAS happy and then poof the big cloud came down and covered my world and then, of course, I started taking these mind altering pills and they really screwed with my happiness levels but at least I am aware of them.
Dr. Wong is my acupuncturist. He works with Dr. Mao and one of his specialties is cancer and chemo. He assures me he can get me back to happiness. I haven't been good about drinking my chinese tea and that is really stupid because if I had been drinking it this whole time I probably would have felt much better. But now I'm going to be consistent and drink the damn tea and get my acupuncture every week and after the last two chemos I'm going back to the vitamin drip and you know, I feel better just thinking about doing that. AND maybe I'll swim and do yoga. Can you imagine? Maybe I can actually get a semblance of my life back. Fuck men, except for Cedric. Oh, and maybe a couple others. I'm not a man hater. My son is a great guy and he's a man. But what I'm saying, and it's something I knew long ago, is that I don't a need a man to make me happy. I didn't actually meet THE man until I was in my mid thirties and I was happy before I met him so I shall be happy again. Myths. It's all myths and stories, this thing about romance. And yes, it can be wonderful but we all know it can be shitty, too. How many times have you been with a couple who say just awful things to each other. They are together because it's comfortable and a habit but they are so mean to each other and their relationship seems to be built on being mean. "'Oh, Alvin can be so stupid sometime." Substitute Alvin for a hundred names.

But there are nice relationships. I know that. But I think I'll choose to think of the bad relationships because it makes me feel better. Nothing wrong with that, is there? Nothing wrong with trying to feel better. So I'll just imagine that everyone is miserable except me who has this wonderful life with her feeding tube and aren't I lucky to be so thin and bald. I mean, how many women can say that. Thin and bald. Provocative?

Right now I am watching two flies mate. Romance...Right on my coffee table. Actually looks like they're arguing. I think I'm going to imagine that's what is happening. I feel better already.

Greetings Ladies and Germs

Okay, if I'm lucky I've got two chemos to go. Had one yesterday and you know what?...I don't feel TOO BADLY today. So let us stand up and twirl around in a little circle and scream a hip hip hooray for at least one moment of lightness on my feet.

HIP HIP HOORAY!!

Wow. I don't know how one person can take these feelings that go up and down and in and out but I'll take the good ones when they come. I woke up this morning wanting to do the laundry and clean the living room and write and maybe all these pills are making me a bit bi-polar but that means that I am going to have GOOD days as well as bad and for a while I thought those good days were not coming back. But here I am all washed up and wearing purple. A nurse told me yesterday that it takes about six weeks after the last chemo for your hair to start coming back in. It comes in all soft and fuzzy first, not my best look, but then that breaks off and the real hair comes in and it will most likely be quite grey or white and I'll have to figure out how I want to deal with that. Am I ready to go there. But that seems like a fun problem. Something that is easily dealt with.

Yesterday at chemo I watched this old woman wheel this old man to his chemo chair. They had obviously been married for decades and now he was sick and cranky as hell. He had the IV in his arm and wouldn't stop moving that arm up to scratch his head and every time he would move it the IV would BEEP LOUDLY and he was doing it just to drive his wife and the nurse crazy. He had a devilish look on his face and not the cute kind of devilish look. The evil devilish kind. And the wife tried to keep her voice down as she scolded him. "Earnest, keep your arm down. Don't you see how it wrecks the flow everytime you bring it up to you face." And then two minutes later he would do it again and she would slap his arm down and he just waited for her to slap him and on and on this went and I was so glad that I lived alone and might be saved this little annoyance. There are some good things about living alone, I keep telling myself. I mean, let's be honest, people, even people you love, drive you crazy sometimes. It ain't all sexy and pretty roses.

And speaking of sexy...I got a catalogue that has a whole section on what they call "personal luxuries . Vibrators. My favorite is a unisex model called "Deep Blue bliss." It has five pre programmed pleasure modes and is virtually silent. I would like to learn the five pleasure modes. I know maybe...Three. Should I order this Deep Blue Bliss? Will I then be on a strange list and get unwanted e-mails and packages wrapped in brown paper with no return address on the back? On the other hand, what the hell.

Hmmmm. Guess I seem to be feeling better today. Especially if I'm thinking of vibrating with my warn out body. But truthfully how much reading can you do or TV can you watch. I need a new outlet. Oh, I just looked back at the catalogue and this contraption comes with a silk carrying case. I think I'm sold. I'll let you know. Of course, this all changes if my bi polarness switches back to the dark side tomorrow. Hope it doesn't. Hope I stay up here in the happiness area.

Two chemos left. Is that really possible? Do I really get my life back after that? Maybe I'll even take a vacation with my Deep Blue Bliss. Oh, the fun we could have. On the road with my bliss. And he's only $49.95. What a guy...................................

With A Little Help From......................

I can hear people talking behind my back. Gossiping. And that...drives me crazy. Here's what I'm feeling...

I tell someone, maybe one person, that I don't feel so well. I think it's the pills but I'm not sure because it could be anything. I tell myself it's not cancer because that makes me feel safe and anyway I felt good a few weeks ago when I WASN'T doing chemo so I know I CAN feel well and then I started feeling crummy when the chemo began again and I started to have pain again so I had to take the dreaded pain pills which make me want to kill myself. And that is not an exaggeration. So I tell one person how I'm feeling because I live alone now and I have to reach out every once in a while and within a few minutes I get phone calls from people I haven't spoken to about my feelings and all of these people have their idea about what I should do and an attitude about me like "Awwwwww." or "Gosh, poor Trish. She's been through so much. She looks so tired. I'm worried about her." And I can feel their phone calls. I can feel the gossip. And I am the center of it and it makes me nuts. I want my life to be private. But,, come on, let's get real. I'm writing a blog, for God's sake. If I wanted to be private would I write a blog that anyone can read? Even people I don't know read it. And that's good. I like that. And this is when I go to a place that I should be far away from by now. And that place is thinking about the man formerly known as my husband because if he had not left me I would have gone through this turmoil JUST with him. I wouldn't have to put it out there for the world to read and to help me through. And maybe it would have been more relaxing and someone would have stroked my little bald head in the middle of the night. I told him early on that he COULD come and help me IF he didn't have his girlfriend and which would make me feel that he was there for me NOT for himself, to make himself feel better. But he couldn't let go of his girlfriend so I opted for doing this alone... With a little help from my friends. And I love my friends. So what am I rambling on about?

Maybe I'm weak. Weaker than I thought I was. I am, yes, freaking out under the weight of all of these drugs. Dr. Shaum, being an oncologist, thinks it's the circumstances that are making me feel sad and suicidal. I don't think so. Am I crazy to think she might be wrong about this? She's a doctor for goodness sake. She must be smarter than I am. But maybe she's just smarter when it comes to chemo and cancer and maybe I know myself better in a certain way that she couldn't possibly know. Does she know that I haven't actually been to see a doctor for most of my life. That I never even had a cold or the flu in last thirty years. That I only get dramatic things like cancer when I get sick. Maybe that makes me special and I should let myself feel special for a little while.

And here's where I hook around and wonder that if people are gossiping about me does that make me special? Would I feel worse if people weren't talking about me at all?

Are these the drugs talking?

Tomorrow is chemo again. I feel a bit better today than I did yesterday. Oh, if only I could feel better tomorrow but I'm going to be poisoned again so for about a week I'll feel crummy and go through the old pill popping routine, trying to figure out how much to take just to feel normal and not to take too many because that hurts almost more than the pain. And what the hell is this pain? Still haven't figured out that one.

You know what I want to do? I want to laugh. I want to look at life and laugh. Because that's how I usually look at things. From a funny point of view. That's why I know the pills are affecting me. Because things don't seem so funny right now. Oh, I guess my hair or the absense thereof is funny. But not THAT funny. And how long can I laugh at my hair before it just becomes an insane person laughing at themselves in the mirror. It's hard to look in the mirror these days. Not that I spent much time doing that before. I told you I have these laughing Buddhas all over the place. Little statues. And they're all laughing. What the hell are they laughing at?

That's what I'm going to do during chemo tomorrow. I'm going to try and figure out what they're laughing at. My guess right now is...Themselves. They are laughing at themselves. Hmmmm. Excuse me for a moment. I'm going to go into the bathroom and check out my mirror.

Oh...I see....Of course...Hahahahahahahahahaha..........................................

Sister Sister

So I had chemo yesterday. Three to go, so they tell me. It seems to get harder as they go along. I get sicker and out of sorts more easily. Sadder. I keep telling myself that it's the drugs that are making me sad. Reminding myself that it is only that and I shouldn't jump out of my one story window just yet. That I will get through this and come out in one piece with a new figure and some new clothes and life will be fun and fine and I'll be busy doing what I love to do which is teach and write and swim and talk to Will and EAT and drink and be merry, whomever she is. But I'm shaky right now and wish there was at least one pill I was taking that was a feel good pill but I think all I am taking are downers or become downers the more you take them. Tomorrow is the forth of July and I usually love that holiday because I'm in Carpinteria and I swim and watch the ocean and then at night go to Montecito and sit on the shore and watch the Santa Barbara fireworks. But tomorrow I will be at home trying not to feel sorry for myself and I will watch fireworks on TV and take a walk and that's not so bad.

Yesterday at chemo I was sitting across from two older women wearing very plain clothes and very plain black shoes that tied up. One of the women had very tiny feet. The nurses called her sister. She was on her last chemo for the moment. They were both reading very dusty books that looked like they came from the library. And they were wearing wedding rings. And I realized they were married to God and that they were nuns. And they seemed very happy. Is it too late to become a Jewish nun? Or start a Jewish nun sect where we can all wear plain black shoes and be happy and not think about moisturizer. See, these nuns were very wrinkled. I wanted to suggest some Oil of Olay but it seemed inappropriate and besides, they were happy, wrinkles and all. They did not care about aging because the older you get the closer you get to God for them and that must be so comforting. Cancer just brings you closer to God. If you're a nun. I'm glad I got to watch them.

I sure did not think this is where I'd be on July 3rd 2008. Sitting on my couch feeling slightly sorry for myself but I'm going to try and concentrate on July 3rd 2009. That should be a good year. Maybe I'll have hair by then. And a life. And hot dogs galore.

Maybe I'll have little black shoes and wrinkles and it will all make sense. It's beautiful out. Maybe I'll just step outside and enjoy............................................