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............................................

The View From Down Under

Where have I been, you might ask. Well, it's a short story as opposed to a long story. I have been to the hospital and back. And that's it. That's the short story. But where have I been mentally, that's a much longer story.

First, I checked myself into the hospital last week with the help of Dr. Shaum because the pain came back. The phantom pain. I assume it comes from chemo but it got so bad again that I couldn't manage it myself so they checked me in and did some tests and everything seems the way it should seem for someone with cancer so I didn't get any pain answers. While I was there they gave me a lot of pain medication. The kind you can push a button and give yourself throughout the day. I was very aware of this button and tried my hardest NOT to push it because I am not a druggie sort of person which is one of the problems with my pain because I SHOULD be taking pain pills and sort of hate them but they help so I don't do them when I should and then whamo I am in pain. So now I have to write down when to take them and force myself to swallow the suckers on a four hour basis so I'll feel okay. But I felt really badly when I checked into St. Johns so I pushed that button and when I finally got and came back home last Friday I was hooked. Didn't take long. And for the next three days I was crying beyond depressed and I knew somewhere in my being that it was withdrawal from the pain medication but while you're going through it you can't really go there so feeling the way I did I just wanted to take out all the pills I had in my bathroom and swallow all of them at once because I was so sad and all I could think of were sad things and everything that had happened to me in the last three years and it was one hell of a weekend. But the fire broke yesterday and I could see more clearly and you know I wear pain patches on my body and take these other pills daily and the thought of getting off of all this medication one day is a little frightening. How am I going to do it? Should someone lock me in a room and come in and hug me every once in a while? It is tough, man, I am telling you, it is incidious and it is tough. I feel so sorry for junkies and people who are hooked and don't know it. In some teeny tiny way I know how they feel. And that is awful. No reason to go on except to get some more junk to raise those seratonin levels enough to at least feel almost normal. So the pain is gone but I cannot say it was easy getting ride of it.

And while I was in the hospital there was one uneasy moment with a nurse named Reggie. It was the middle of the night and Reggie came in to give me a shot. Usually they give this particular shot very slowly so it won't hurt. Well, Mr. Reggie had too much caffeine or something because he threw that shot into my IV and pushed the syringe as hard as he could and the medicine raced through my body and HURT LIKE HELL. It was shocking. and then I got all paranoid and started thinking that Reggie didn't really work at St. Johns. That he had just come in off the street and was giving shots to middle aged women and old people and I was going to die or something really weird was going to happen to me like I'd swell up and then my ankles DID swell up and I started to freak out and decided that I had to leave the hospital immediately. But it was the middle of the night so I had to wait until morning and I told Dr. Shaum that I was all better and I wanted to go home. I hadn't finished one of the tests but she sent me home anyway and my ankles stayed swollen for a couple of days and I continued to wonder if Reggie was to blame and what was that painful shot anyway.

Here's what I think is happening...I have been doing chemo for a year now. I think the poison is getting to my brain now and if we don't stop soon I will surely lose my mind, if I haven't lost it already. I believe I have four chemos left. I can handle that. I hope. Then we do a scan and then we see what's shakin'. I hope it's not cancer. I hope they tell me that it's over. That I can move on with my life. My life was good, wasn't it? Will you please remind me. Or am I thinking of someone else's life? That was me who used to swim, right? I liked that. That was me who worked with a tutoring program, right? I loved that. I didn't throw up, did I? That was nice. I wore a size six. I had an ass. That was mine, right?

Can it all come back? Including my hair? Is that possible? I think I'm going to pull out my old datebooks and see what I used to do. I hope they're my datebooks. Hmmmm. I wonder whose house I'm living in.................................

Shuffle Step.......

So I had chemo on Monday and then yesterday I went in for a two hour drip of anti nausea stuff. PLUS I'm wearing this watch type of bracelet that is for people who get seasick or carsick and it puts out little electrical pulses on this acupressure spot that is supposed to keep the vomits away. I think it's working. I don't seem to throw up when I have it on. It's a little disconcerting being shocked every few seconds. Some sort of small torture device. But I don't throw up and that's a good thing. I went to purchase it at a travel store with my friend Katey who told me that I did not look like the Crypt Keeper with my hat on and my hair sticking out, I looked like Dana Carvey in Wayne's World. I'm not sure which is worse. It's amazing I still have hair at all. Seems to be gone at the top and it just sticks out the bottom. But the wig is just fine.

Anyway, whilst getting this anti nausea drip I talked to a very nice lady from Connecticutt. She was doing her chemo out here to hang with her daughter. She lived in what seemed to be an assisted living village type of place in Danbury, Conn. Sounded like fun. How frightening is that?!! She was rushing to get her chemo done so she could get back to Danbury for the big tap dance extravaganza she was involved in. Her big number was Pretty Woman...All tap dance all the time. They were doing a play, too...Look Back in Anger. All of this was at the assisted living place. Look Back in Anger? Not the play I would have chosen for a bunch of seventy and eighty year olds but hey, maybe they're all angry. Maybe this is how they can talk to their children and let them know how they really feel about raising them. And this woman who tap danced, she couldn't have been more than three feet tall and she was telling me about her costume and her makeup and I'll be damned if it didn't sound like fun. Wish I was about to tap to Pretty Woman. All dressed in feathers and eyelashes.

And I guess I was realizing that I actually haven't started putting my life back together from what it was before. This cancer thing sort of came up about six months after the man formerly known as my husband left me and months after my son went off to college and my dad died and the dog died and all that stuff that seemed to have happened so long ago. And now I have about four more chemos to go...so they say...And once again I can start all over figuring out just who I am and where I belong in the scheme of things and just what it was I was thinking of doing after my own personal Katrina took place.

Kind of exciting. Love the idea of a new house. A new me. Who is she? What does she do? What does she look like? How long is her hair? Will she tap dance? Who will assist in her living? When will she have a hot dog? All thrilling things to think about sitting under my ceiling fan typing on my oh so cool wireless computer.

Ah, life is good. Oh oh, it's that brain thing, isn't it? The one that allows me to like The Notebook. Don't pay any attention to me for a while. Until I heal. I'm speaking in some type of language that is way to happy to really be me. Where's the edge? Can't be a good writer without an edge. Think I'll watch Wiseguys tonight. That's what I'll do. Watch Wiseguys, throw up a few times. I'm taking off this damn watch thing. That's it. The happy pulse. Not good for me.

Fuck you.

Okay, I feel better now.

Hope I didn't hurt your feelings.

Must be the watch.

Or maybe I just have to figure out who I am......Right now........After the deluge.........................

Losing My Mind

I think my brain is getting smaller. I think some of the chemo poison is affecting my brain. Missing my last little cancer cells and attacking what is left of my mind. Last night I watched a really corny movie and I liked it. A lot. It's called The Notebook. Now I know that some of you are throwing up just thinking about that movie. It's just a corny old fashioned pull out your hankie love story with overwrought performances. But I was totally into it. And while I was watching it I kept thinking how lucky I was. What a great life I've had. Lucky because I've been in and out of love a few times, I've done stuff I've really enjoyed doing, I have this great son, I live in a nice house even though I'm going to move soon but probably to another nice house and lalala this movie made me feel just so happy about my life and life in general. And that is just SICKENING! I mean my teeth hurt thinking about how sweet it all is and I should be feeling awful right now because I have been through some pretty rotten times as of late. But I didn't feel that way watching that cornball film. So that is why I believe my brain has been affected by all of this poison going into my system.

And tomorrow I get more of this poison. Not happy about that because I'm still sort of reeling from the last treatment. Throwing up and I'm too tired as of late. I don't like feeling tired. In fact I think I drove to the farmers market today with my eyes closed. Or maybe I was having a dream at about mid morning while I was in the car. But I don't actually remember starting the car or picking up my yogurt from the Greek woman at the market but there it is in my fridge so I got there somehow but I don't remember driving or paying anyone. I certainly hope I paid her.

I keep thinking people are staring at my wig when I wear it out into the world. Like today at the market. Do they know I hardly have any hair underneath the hair hat I am wearing? It seemed to me like everyone from the soup lady to the lady picking out an avocado next to me was staring at my head. "Does she think we can't tell she's wearing a wig? It's so phony. Hey, check out that woman with the fake hair. Who is she kidding?" Maybe I won't leave the house until my hair grows back. Seems drastic but I do have a little vanity left. Oh hell, that's ridiculous. Who cares what other people think you?

I DO.

I think my brain has become lifeless and paranoid and no longer has the portion that separates good taste from bad taste. Of course, I did always like the movie On Golden Pond so that probably proves that I never had taste in the first place. And that makes me feel better.

I miss the beach. I haven't sat on the shore in a long time. Couldn't do it last summer because I started all of this chemo mess exactly one year ago. So I couldn't get to the beach at all. And remember when I thought this year was going to be SOOOO much better than last year? What happened to that thought? Could I even imagine that NEXT year is going to be a good year? I suppose just the fact that I'm alive next year could be counted as being a good year because I'm waking up in the mornings.

The Notebook. One year from now I'm going to watch that movie again and see what I think. My brain should be stable by then. Maybe I could have some popcorn one year from now. That would be exciting. And a hot dog. And...anything! Remember this date. June 15th. One year from now. Maybe I'll have my own hair. Maybemaybemaybe.......................................