Dr. Wong, my acupuncturist, told me that the pain patches I am wearing are ten times stronger than morphine. Okay, I knew they were strong but I never quite equated them with morphine even though I knew they were in the same catagory and it really struck me when he told me this and I thought NO WONDER I am emotional a lot of the time. I'm an addict! I not only wear these patches, I take pills to up the usefullness of the patches and we're talking about a person who hadn't even taken aspirin in thirty years, for pete's sake. So I now have the mind of an addict and that's why when I sit down to write these blogs I am writing from a different part of my brain. Not the light hearted funny part that always looked at the world with wit and irony but the person who looks at the world like The Man with the Golden Arm. (That's a book and movie about an addict, by the way. I believe it starred Frank Sinatra.) Remember that guy, I think his name was James Frey...Or something like that...Anyway, Oprah picked his book about addiction as her Oprah pick and when she found out he made the whole thing up she humiliated him on national television by saying he was a liar and a fraud. Well, I'M MORE OF AN ADDICT THAN HE WAS so maybe I should write something that Oprah will pick as her book of the month because I am an addict. A real one. And I could write about anything as long as I talk about being an addict. How about the housewife addict. The woman with cancer addict. The middle aged ex actress who slept with Robert DeNiro. (Remember him?)
I seem to be getting carried away but you kow, I want to NOT be an addict. I would really like to know what I'm feeling when I'm not using. Would I feel as weird as I feel right now? I think these patches are why I wake up feeling a bit unsteady. After all, I have 175 milligrams of morphine shooting into my system all day long. Isn't that a lot? There must be some kind of natural pain reliever with no side affects that I could take. Got to look into that.
Which reminds me that tomorrow I am going to a new kind of doctor recommended to me by the oncologist who took care of me last week in the hospital. This doctor believes in the miracle of vitamin C. And other supplements. And the oncologist told me I would feel so much better after going to see this new guy. As you know, I was already taking vitamin drips from another doctor but what the hell, I'll try this new one and compare and see what I feel. I remember at the vitamin drip place I used to go to there was a woman there who swore by the drips and were sure they were why she was still alive and had been for quite a long time. Now this woman took very long drips. Like four hours longs. Hey I'd take a drip for twenty four hours if I knew it was going to keep me alive for a few years.
And here's where I should mention that I DO think they are going to get this little bugger of a tumor. It's not that everything suddenly came to a crashing halt. It was just me and my addled brain that went to that place when the tumor reared it's ugly head. I think I mentioned that nothing has spread anywhere else and my liver is perfectly clean and my vital signs are perfect and I am a strong girl so there is no reason to think that they can't keep this tumor at bay. Magic Johnson has been living for years because they keep coming up with new treatments. So I want what he has even though he has AIDS and I don't but there must be some equivilant and I'm going to find it.
Oy, am I tired of talking about my problems. I used to have this life. It was interesting. I worked with these wonderful kids. I laughed a lot. Oh haha.
Actually, I am laughing now but not for a great reason. I happen to be wearing my Florence Henderson wig. That's why I'm laughing. It's the cheap one. The Brady Bunch wig. Will sort of named it for me. It does this little flip on the ends. Doesn't look like who I really am at all but I sort of like it. It's silly and ridiculous and makes me want to make pancakes and tuna casserole but you feel like you're going to live forever if you're Florence Henderson and so will the entire Brady Bunch. They never got cancer. They got chicken pox and miss the prom and I like those problems a lot better than my problems. Mr. Brady would never leave Mrs. Brady for another woman. There's just too much to do at home. There's the garage to clean up and the front door latch to tighten. Who has time for an affair. The kids are always having some kind of mini crisis.
So I'm just going to stay Mrs. Brady for a while. It's very comforting. Unless, of course, Mrs. Brady is really an addict. Maybe that's why she's so calm. Well, I'm just going to wear her hair and cook up some hash browns and I think everything is just going to be A OK.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Monday, August 4, 2008
Another Life
My brother in law...Or I suppose I should refer to him as my EX brother in law...Although maybe I should just call him my brother because he does feel like a brother to me and Ex and all that sounds just too formal...
So...My bro said something to me that I have thought about for the last couple of days and that is that I no longer think of myself as the Trish whom I used to be...The healthy Trish. The one people said would live forever because I took such good care of myself and swam and ate well and ran around with boundless energy and a smile on my face and really enjoyed my life, although I did complain but what's life without a little whining. I am not that Trish anymore. I'm loaded with poison and I'm trying to heal from that onslaught and sadly, I realized just today that I can't swim. You know why? The damn stupid pain patch I'm wearing. I can't get the thing wet or it won't work. Now I'm trying to work out some plan where the day I change the patch I take off the old one and take a forty minute swim then shower and put another patch on immediately. That might work. It would only be every three days because that's when I change the patch, but it would be something. But it wasn't just the notion that I could dive into a pool or the ocean at any time and have myself one of the joys of my life...a swim. When I realized this I could not let it get me down because why add something else to the negative side of the column. So I just accepted it and started working on how to make it happen even every once in a while.
So I am this new Trish with health issues that are not going away as easily as I thought they would and I am a new Trish who wakes up with a bit of anxiety everyday that scares me because I used to wake up all ready to face the day with positive joy and I'd pack up my gym bag and when I came back from that swim or that yoga I would feel like a new person and my arms were strong and I'd hug the dog and talk to my family and life was sweet and the way I thought it should be.
But it is such a different life now that I hardly recognize it.
Now here's the thing...We all know we are going to die but most of the time it seems very surreal because in your minds it is very far away, this death thing, so why even bother dwelling on it. But when you are face to face with it, it gives you a bit of an anxiety rush that starts in your throat and makes your hands sort of shake and keeps your mind on high alert so you can't just go through the day enjoying the good parts. In fact, sometimes you can't even find the good parts because you're so shaken up by the anxiety.
But maybe this new Trish will have new stuff to bring into the world and maybe the old Trish was getting sort of complacent and honestly boring. Because how boring is a happy life. Let's say, as a writer, isn't it more interesting to write a bit about the dark side? Otherwise you are writing a Jackie Collins novel or an Elizabeth Berg novel, although you can't fault her too much because she does have quite a large output and she never runs out of things to say and sometimes they are a bit, and I do say a bit, profound. In a tiny way. But with my new life with the dark side eclipsing the lighter side, won't that be a more interesting way of looking at things?
Can you write an entire novel on complete high anxiety? With your hands shaking and the world collapsing around you as you write and you are not quite sure what the ending is going to be even though you want it to turn out happy though your beating heart sort of holds you back from truly believing that is possible?
No, dammit, you can write you own ending. You can sit here at your computer and write whatever it is you want to write. And there it will be on paper. Just as you want it. You know, I feel better already. Because I am in charge. Tomorrow morning I will not wake up with anxiety. Because that is what I am going to choose to write. I am going to wake up raring to go. A good day. That's what I'm going to have. A calm good day. With a happy ending. Because I made it that way. That's the way the new Trish thinks. I think I like her. She's tough. She knows what she wants. She accepts what was handed to her. A big fat bummer, that what was handed to her. But hey, BRING IT ON! New Trish can take it.
I am sitting under the fan right now. The breeze is cooling me off. I can turn it down or I can turn it up. I'm in charge. It's just about a couple of buttons. I'm staring at my choices. And here is what is cool about that.
I actually have a choice. Ahhhhhh. How comforting.
Hey............................
Pleasant dreams..................................
So...My bro said something to me that I have thought about for the last couple of days and that is that I no longer think of myself as the Trish whom I used to be...The healthy Trish. The one people said would live forever because I took such good care of myself and swam and ate well and ran around with boundless energy and a smile on my face and really enjoyed my life, although I did complain but what's life without a little whining. I am not that Trish anymore. I'm loaded with poison and I'm trying to heal from that onslaught and sadly, I realized just today that I can't swim. You know why? The damn stupid pain patch I'm wearing. I can't get the thing wet or it won't work. Now I'm trying to work out some plan where the day I change the patch I take off the old one and take a forty minute swim then shower and put another patch on immediately. That might work. It would only be every three days because that's when I change the patch, but it would be something. But it wasn't just the notion that I could dive into a pool or the ocean at any time and have myself one of the joys of my life...a swim. When I realized this I could not let it get me down because why add something else to the negative side of the column. So I just accepted it and started working on how to make it happen even every once in a while.
So I am this new Trish with health issues that are not going away as easily as I thought they would and I am a new Trish who wakes up with a bit of anxiety everyday that scares me because I used to wake up all ready to face the day with positive joy and I'd pack up my gym bag and when I came back from that swim or that yoga I would feel like a new person and my arms were strong and I'd hug the dog and talk to my family and life was sweet and the way I thought it should be.
But it is such a different life now that I hardly recognize it.
Now here's the thing...We all know we are going to die but most of the time it seems very surreal because in your minds it is very far away, this death thing, so why even bother dwelling on it. But when you are face to face with it, it gives you a bit of an anxiety rush that starts in your throat and makes your hands sort of shake and keeps your mind on high alert so you can't just go through the day enjoying the good parts. In fact, sometimes you can't even find the good parts because you're so shaken up by the anxiety.
But maybe this new Trish will have new stuff to bring into the world and maybe the old Trish was getting sort of complacent and honestly boring. Because how boring is a happy life. Let's say, as a writer, isn't it more interesting to write a bit about the dark side? Otherwise you are writing a Jackie Collins novel or an Elizabeth Berg novel, although you can't fault her too much because she does have quite a large output and she never runs out of things to say and sometimes they are a bit, and I do say a bit, profound. In a tiny way. But with my new life with the dark side eclipsing the lighter side, won't that be a more interesting way of looking at things?
Can you write an entire novel on complete high anxiety? With your hands shaking and the world collapsing around you as you write and you are not quite sure what the ending is going to be even though you want it to turn out happy though your beating heart sort of holds you back from truly believing that is possible?
No, dammit, you can write you own ending. You can sit here at your computer and write whatever it is you want to write. And there it will be on paper. Just as you want it. You know, I feel better already. Because I am in charge. Tomorrow morning I will not wake up with anxiety. Because that is what I am going to choose to write. I am going to wake up raring to go. A good day. That's what I'm going to have. A calm good day. With a happy ending. Because I made it that way. That's the way the new Trish thinks. I think I like her. She's tough. She knows what she wants. She accepts what was handed to her. A big fat bummer, that what was handed to her. But hey, BRING IT ON! New Trish can take it.
I am sitting under the fan right now. The breeze is cooling me off. I can turn it down or I can turn it up. I'm in charge. It's just about a couple of buttons. I'm staring at my choices. And here is what is cool about that.
I actually have a choice. Ahhhhhh. How comforting.
Hey............................
Pleasant dreams..................................
Saturday, August 2, 2008
She's Alive...ALIVE!!
Greetings from my home after just an oh so wonderful vacation in HELL. Sorry you couldn't join me but I believe it's a very popular spot and tickets and accommodations are hard to come by. Want to hear about my trip? Okay, check this out...
I was going along just so happy to get to my last chemo and go on to healing because it's been a looooong year since I started doing chemo and I am telling you I was so ready to move on because I was so sick and just getting sicker. Well, two weeks before the end Dr. Shaum tells me in her very calm voice that Houston, we are having a problem. Seems like a tumor marker was elevated way beyond what it should be. Let's say it was at a six last week, well, this week it was around thirty five. And that is no exaggeration! So she checked it again and it had gone up even a bit more so the decision was to stop the chemo before the end because it was not working on this one particular tumor. The same one that started this whole thing. Meanwhile, I was so sick from the chemo that I was taking pain pills all day long and got to such a painful place that all I could do was sleep. At one point I slept for five days in a row. Could not get up. I don't know how I did it but somehow, with a little help from those friends of mine I got to Dr. Shaum's office and she checked me into the hospital where I slept for another day until the pain meds kicked in and I finally started to feel like a human again. And everything seemed to be on track except I started thinking about this tumor that would not let go and for the first time during this whole ordeal I started to have a panic attack. In the hospital. And I can tell you how it started. A doctor whom I love and trust and looked at me in such a frightening way that I read her face as saying..."Oh, poor Trish, poor, poor Trish. This could be it. The end. It's over. She's a goner."
Now mind you, she never said this. She actually told me that the cat scan they did the day before looked pretty damn good because all the vital organs were clean and untouched and only that damn little tumor was the problem. But I read her face as nothing but grim and negative and I was a goner. My heart was pounding and my hands were shaking and next thing I knew they were putting ativan through an IV into my veins and in a minute I was relaxed. So Dr. Shaum had to immediately go off on her three week summer vacation and said we would decide what treatment to try when she returned, all suntan and RELAXED and happy and of course I hated her for a few seconds because how come I wasn't on a vacation with my family and getting tan and swimming and why did I have to have anxiety for three weeks and worry about my future and WHY IS THIS STILL HAPPENING TO ME and of course there is not answer to this question...It just IS. That's the way things go.
I forgot to mention that before the hospital stay the other thing I was doing aside from sleeping was throwing up. Six or seven times a day. It was endless. It was awful. It was exhausting. I was so unhappy. And dare I say, lonely. There are a lot of things you can do with friends but throwing up is not one of them. You throw up alone.
But I'm happy to say that that seems to be over now. I have stopped chemo and I am feeling so much better. No more throwing up. My energy seems to be coming back. So nah nah nah while Dr. Shaum is away in Hawaii or Mexico or anywhere I will be healing just here in my neighborhood and maybe it's not so glamourous but I won't be vomiting and I might even, dare I say it, swim.
Now here's the thing. I still have some panic. I'm a little scared. But I am not going to let this thing get me. It's 2008. They come up with new stuff everyday and I am willing to try any new experiment they might throw at me plus I'm going to do those vitamin drips and I'm going to do my acupuncture and I am going to zap this little sucker from all sides because I want to be here to watch my son grow old and older and I want to be here to move to my own house and I want to be here to have dinner with friends. Hey, Dennis made me a martini tonight!! A MARTINI. Small, yes. But it was vodka,, which I haven't had for a year and it went down nice and smooth and I relaxed and I laughed and damn is that not what we're supposed to do if we're lucky, which I feel that I am? We're supposed to have dinner and drinks with our friends. I repeat, if we're lucky. I am not unaware of how lucky I am, believe me. On my worst days I know I have more than most people in the world.
So that's where I've been. Not sure where I'm going but it's going to be another adventure and I'm ready to fight and I'm going to win dammit and I am not going to vacation in Hell again because it was not a good deal and the accommodations sucked.
And you know what else...My hair is going to grow back. Won't that be a trip.
You know how it is with vacations...You've got to lie down to recover from so much fun. That's what I'm going to do right now. Nice to see you. Hey, maybe we could take a cruise sometime. Think they take IV's on board? I promise I won't throw up. Good night.
I was going along just so happy to get to my last chemo and go on to healing because it's been a looooong year since I started doing chemo and I am telling you I was so ready to move on because I was so sick and just getting sicker. Well, two weeks before the end Dr. Shaum tells me in her very calm voice that Houston, we are having a problem. Seems like a tumor marker was elevated way beyond what it should be. Let's say it was at a six last week, well, this week it was around thirty five. And that is no exaggeration! So she checked it again and it had gone up even a bit more so the decision was to stop the chemo before the end because it was not working on this one particular tumor. The same one that started this whole thing. Meanwhile, I was so sick from the chemo that I was taking pain pills all day long and got to such a painful place that all I could do was sleep. At one point I slept for five days in a row. Could not get up. I don't know how I did it but somehow, with a little help from those friends of mine I got to Dr. Shaum's office and she checked me into the hospital where I slept for another day until the pain meds kicked in and I finally started to feel like a human again. And everything seemed to be on track except I started thinking about this tumor that would not let go and for the first time during this whole ordeal I started to have a panic attack. In the hospital. And I can tell you how it started. A doctor whom I love and trust and looked at me in such a frightening way that I read her face as saying..."Oh, poor Trish, poor, poor Trish. This could be it. The end. It's over. She's a goner."
Now mind you, she never said this. She actually told me that the cat scan they did the day before looked pretty damn good because all the vital organs were clean and untouched and only that damn little tumor was the problem. But I read her face as nothing but grim and negative and I was a goner. My heart was pounding and my hands were shaking and next thing I knew they were putting ativan through an IV into my veins and in a minute I was relaxed. So Dr. Shaum had to immediately go off on her three week summer vacation and said we would decide what treatment to try when she returned, all suntan and RELAXED and happy and of course I hated her for a few seconds because how come I wasn't on a vacation with my family and getting tan and swimming and why did I have to have anxiety for three weeks and worry about my future and WHY IS THIS STILL HAPPENING TO ME and of course there is not answer to this question...It just IS. That's the way things go.
I forgot to mention that before the hospital stay the other thing I was doing aside from sleeping was throwing up. Six or seven times a day. It was endless. It was awful. It was exhausting. I was so unhappy. And dare I say, lonely. There are a lot of things you can do with friends but throwing up is not one of them. You throw up alone.
But I'm happy to say that that seems to be over now. I have stopped chemo and I am feeling so much better. No more throwing up. My energy seems to be coming back. So nah nah nah while Dr. Shaum is away in Hawaii or Mexico or anywhere I will be healing just here in my neighborhood and maybe it's not so glamourous but I won't be vomiting and I might even, dare I say it, swim.
Now here's the thing. I still have some panic. I'm a little scared. But I am not going to let this thing get me. It's 2008. They come up with new stuff everyday and I am willing to try any new experiment they might throw at me plus I'm going to do those vitamin drips and I'm going to do my acupuncture and I am going to zap this little sucker from all sides because I want to be here to watch my son grow old and older and I want to be here to move to my own house and I want to be here to have dinner with friends. Hey, Dennis made me a martini tonight!! A MARTINI. Small, yes. But it was vodka,, which I haven't had for a year and it went down nice and smooth and I relaxed and I laughed and damn is that not what we're supposed to do if we're lucky, which I feel that I am? We're supposed to have dinner and drinks with our friends. I repeat, if we're lucky. I am not unaware of how lucky I am, believe me. On my worst days I know I have more than most people in the world.
So that's where I've been. Not sure where I'm going but it's going to be another adventure and I'm ready to fight and I'm going to win dammit and I am not going to vacation in Hell again because it was not a good deal and the accommodations sucked.
And you know what else...My hair is going to grow back. Won't that be a trip.
You know how it is with vacations...You've got to lie down to recover from so much fun. That's what I'm going to do right now. Nice to see you. Hey, maybe we could take a cruise sometime. Think they take IV's on board? I promise I won't throw up. Good night.
Friday, July 18, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
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...................................
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...................................
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
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..........................................
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..........................................
Thursday, July 3, 2008
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............................................
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............................................
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