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Monday, November 30, 2015

Out from the dumpster and into the light

Yep, Glenn made it out. Just like I thought too!  He hunkered down, and waited that evil disease out. Crawled out, dirty, beat and tired but alive. 

Glenn, I'm out too. 

Unexpectedly, I am thrilled with my new part-time job. Hey! I'm a receptionist! It's easy, fun and I love my new co-workers. Best of all --- When I leave at 5, there is no worry or thought, or dread of the next day/clients/issues. No more appellate briefs! No more divorce clients calling me on my cell phone!!! No more scheduling nightmares or paralyzing fear of missing a deadline/court date/consult. No more boring, dull, stupid transcriptions. It's just....great. It's challenging in its own way, but very social, exciting and a nice environment.

I job-share with a gal named Karen, she does Mondays and Tuesdays. She's gorgeous, thin and stylish. Yet, she's super cool and human. We trade some war stories during her training, and end up laughing like banshees. She is just like my new friend Heather, same deal. Heather, send me some Sugar Smash lives and as you were.

Zippers for tits!

Ahhhhhh, the holidays. 

This year is a vast improvement from 2014, when I was by turn, nauseated, vomiting, or otherwise ensconced in never-ending violent bouts of Perjeta-fueled diarrhea. By Christmas day, I'm sporting zero tits, 3 surgical drains (with blood and waste filled bags!), and many, many, metal staples where my fine breasts formerly sat. Really, my chest looks like it's got two shittily-sewn zippers upon it. Pain does not really describe the cigar burn sensations under my right arm, or my mental state. Sleep and regular movement are dim memories. 

I'm bald too and kinda green. That fits with Christmas.

Can you blame me then, for sending my hubby off to dinner alone, while I sobbed myself to the floor watching Faith Hill on PBS? I wanted the poor guy to have some kind of holiday. Faith possesses the physicality and vocal talent of an angel, and I love/hate her for this, her ability to reduce me to a fetal, tear-covered twitching ruin. And, her breasts seem perfect. Damn. This. Real. Life.

This year things are different. 

Today I find a surprisingly nice looking, pre-lit artificial tree at a huge discount. My new job is only from Wednesday through Friday. Instead of dreading Monday, I'm enjoying the beautiful weather and decorating the tree to surprise my hubster. We'd talked about getting a real tree, but frankly, I'm into all things easy nowadays, so long as the reward outweighs the perceived sacrifice. He agrees - we enjoyed the fully cooked Thanksgiving meal we purchased from Publix too. I make some other nice small things - deviled eggs, brie with mango chutney, a relish tray. It's all devoured and enjoyed. We walk around the neighborhood and watch the parade. Sleep comes easy and lasts long, with nice dreams and no pain. 

His birthday is tomorrow, and he likes the silly Dump Cake that I find on Allrecipes. It's easy, delicious and just right. 

As its aroma fills the house, I'm reminded of all those times he went with me to appointments, scans, lab draws, chemo-fucking-therapy, doctor visits, prosthesis fittings. Never did he miss one thing. How he cried with me the first time we removed my bandages and saw the devastation where seeming perfection used to be. How he would lead me from the breakdowns to his arms during the horrific initial diagnosis. The unflinching, caring and precise stripping of my surgical drains. Washing me when I could not move my own arms. 

Maybe this freakin' cake just ain't good enough. Good thing I got that Marilyn Monroe 2016 calendar and new tires for his truck. 

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Under the Dumpster with Glenn

I'm a very late-coming fan of the Walking Dead. I can't take all the melodramatic apocalyptic human condition. I wish Darryl be the only one the ability to speak, since he does not take to whining and just looks so good on that motorcycle. I could watch him wandering around the post-deader Georgia woods for hours. 

Cancer has an amazing ability to shred the veil you've been living behind, and expose the raw, real, true nature of life. This is a blessing and a curse. 

Likewise, things that seem wholly unconnected are now synced. Everything has a message, an idea, a lesson--seemingly mundane things, even fictitious television shows for example. 

So....Glenn, last time we saw him, was buried in zombies, those unstoppable, hungry, evil things that want to destroy him. I'm not sure who's guts those are being chowed upon as Glenn wails in horror, but you can see he's pretty much done. Helpless to escape and powerless to stop the grinding menace. His resilience is  waning and you can almost see him want to give up. 

Fun White Trash Fact:  That dumpster may be in Georgia, but if it's like the industrial ones here, it is on wheels and/or short legs. Off the ground, just a little. Maybe just enough for Glenn to crawl under and hunker down till the assault is over.  

Parallels, me and Glenn. Our safe, normal worlds ended, and calamity, death and horrors followed, for a long time. We've been wounded and displaced.  Neither one of us is ever going to be the same, and never whole. Life has gone on, and we've become different people. 

And maybe we both found a crack to squeeze into at the last moment, just enough space to hide until it's safe to come out again.