Tuesday, January 4, 2011


Tonight I sent my husband over to his parents in a cab. He is sick. Fever. 101. We both feel panicked, looking at each other, like, what now? My caregiver is sick. Forgot to read that chapter of the "Handy Dandy" Guide to Cancer... [Sorry, there is a Lucy and Desi episode for everything, I am sure, and the one on "handy dandy" everything is on the brain right now....maybe I should watch??] 

I cannot get it, whatever it is. I must not become more afflicted. This may sound self-indulgent, so, ok, sue me. I have suffered enough in the last 15 weeks to make a non-believer religious and fall on their knees and believe again if only to curry some favour and future credit. Cancer sucks. It hurts, burns, corrodes. I hate it. I will work my ass off to help anyone afflicted with this hellish disease, So Help Me God.

I am alone in the house as the kids are with daddy. And speaking of curry, the lovely curry kebabs for 5 [provided from one of the blessed silent chefs in my neighborhood] uneaten, since no one is here to [cook or]eat them.

Naomi just called to tell me of her skinned knee. Her affliction is not warranting the "appropriate" level of the attention from the Lee boys, no one is wrapping her in love bandages, tending what to her seems a river of blood - a scrape, really. But we need to wrap those inner wounds....because they are portents, messages to those listening. I am sad. I hurt. Fix me. So she calls me. Ironic.

I have not written in a while here since there seems no point, saying the same things. I am tired. I am sick. I feel so fucking bored of this endless cycle of darkness and light, up and down, sick, well. It seems so utterly the same - and yet.

And yet I am manic, in anticipation of the new poisons Friday, chemo #4. Manic - doing things I need to do - fix, sort, repair. Heal. Move furniture. Re-hang pictures. I must be a nightmare, perhaps fever inducing!?? I would completely understand. As Michael says, over the holiday, I was a borderline "asshole" . Bordeline. Fair enough. For better or worse. Truly, the only thing worse would be if Michael or the kids were in my place. Better me than them.

I am afraid of these new poisons, if only that I do not know what they are. The meds prescribed beforehand usually provide some idea, as I wise up to the medico-lingo. Oxycontin. Pain. Steroids. Inflammation and pain. Anti-nauseates. Excellent.

My sister says, sit back, take the meds, enjoy the ride. Helterskelter here I come.

So the mantra begins....

When I am feeling sad, I simply remember my favourite things and then I don't feel so bad...
Bright copper kettles, cream coloured ponies, schnitzels with noodles, wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings...Silver white winters than melt into spring.... En shallah.

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