My mother is 79 years old. This coming January she will be 80. She still drives, still cooks, still cleans, and is able to take care of her two dogs and walk them regularly. My mother doesn't act or look her age. This holds true when it comes to men, too. "I know he likes me." "I could tell he liked me." It doesn't matter if the guy is 25 years old, single or married. It doesn't matter if he is 50 or 65. In my mother's mind she is still the belle of the ball and the life of the party. Men find her fascinating and that, my friend, is her reality.
Apparently she has been learning some new slang as the other day when I was talking to her on the phone on my drive home from work she was telling me about some man she talked to somewhere. I don't remember the details but that isn't the part of the story you need to know. In her mind, he was enamored with her and she said, "I would do him."
Last Sunday morning I was over at my mother's house having my weekly visit. I was requested to get there within a certain time frame as she had a neighborhood party to attend later that afternoon. The way it works is each neighbor takes turns hosting and everyone on the street is invited. My mother decided she is never going to host but periodically she does attend these gatherings. One of the reasons she moved into this new development was because they represented themselves as actively providing social events within their community.
My younger sister, Eve, dropped by and it is always a treat to spend time with her, too. The three of us were sitting on bar stools belly up to the kitchen island gibbering away when my mother announced that she bought a new top for that afternoon's party. She said, "You know how I hate to shop," as she jumped from the bar stool and walked to her bedroom to get this new top we had to see. Eve and I looked at each other. "Hates to shop?"
"I was being sarcastic."
"Oh."
Mom walks out of her bedroom with a sheer black lacy top. Eve and I are speechless but we manage to oooo and ahhhhh over it because it is very pretty. Eve then states the obvious. "You know you have to wear a camisole underneath it, right?"
"What's a camisole," my mother asks irritated.
"Like a tank top," Eve says glancing my way.
I chime in, "Yeah. They have spaghetti straps."
My mother is even more irritated. She's the mother, after all. "I don't need one."
The battle is on. Eve and I are now talking over each other trying to convince my mother she absolutely cannot wear that top without a camisole underneath. My mother's answer? "I tried it on in the store and it looked fine." "I have a black bra. It will be fine." To which Eve asks, "You have a black bra?" To which my mother answers, "Yes. I have two."
That shuts us both up for a second as more questions and weird thoughts dance around inside both of our heads. We manage to bring ourselves back on point to the emergency we are trying to fend off. My mother finally acquiesces and goes to the hall mirror to try on the shirt to prove to us we are wrong. She whips off her current top and lo and behold, she is wearing a black bra. The sight is a little unsettling. She then pulls the new top up over her head, fidgets with it as she regards her reflection in the mirror, and walks back over to Eve and me. Eve says, "See? You can see your stomach. You have to cover your stomach." That was a very polite way of saying, "Mom. You are clearly almost naked right now and you CANNOT go out in public dressed like that." I am nodding and agreeing. My mother looks down and finally cannot deny or defend any longer.
"Where do I buy a camisole?"
Friday, August 29, 2014
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Removing Attachments
"The healing is then your job, instead of becoming offended by these deep soul divulges; you dive deeper into the relationship with yourself (not fixing the other person) to see what the root of the pain is from. It is also your partner’s job to do the same." To read the whole article copy and past the link below into your browser:
http://thespiritscience.net/2014/07/26/how-to-remove-attachments-to-past-relationships/
I was in the same type of relationship the author describes. It was the best and the worst. It was the brightest and the darkest. He and I both felt an immediate tie to each other and we never permanently let go through the very high ups and the very low downs. I never felt love for another deep inside my soul as I did with him. I never knew such profound peace and complete pain with another human being. He and I were mirrors for each other. So many times we reflected back the good and the bad. Because of him, I became the true me. Because of him, I changed my life's path by becoming honest with myself and chipping away at the caked-on blinders that inhibited me from really seeing. My life is so much better for having known him.
I learned a great deal and for that I am deeply grateful to him but I had to cut the cord. The pain of breaking it off with him was phenomenal and more intense than I had ever experienced. It would flood my brain, burn my soul, and cause me to feel physically depressed. I can understand why, as the author noted, some turn to drugs or alcohol to numb the pain caused by it. The agony was crippling at times and there was no question that I had to free myself from it.
I didn't cut the cord the way described by the author but it was a conscious effort for me and on multiple occasions I had to stop what I was doing to reject his psychic reaching out to me. I had learned what I was meant to know and even though the relationship had been pared down to friendship, it still was poisonous.
I am finally not angry with him anymore or feel hurt when he crosses my mind. Not that long ago I found that I could wish him love and wellness. I want him to find peace because he deserves it and needs it. Just not with me.
http://thespiritscience.net/2014/07/26/how-to-remove-attachments-to-past-relationships/
I was in the same type of relationship the author describes. It was the best and the worst. It was the brightest and the darkest. He and I both felt an immediate tie to each other and we never permanently let go through the very high ups and the very low downs. I never felt love for another deep inside my soul as I did with him. I never knew such profound peace and complete pain with another human being. He and I were mirrors for each other. So many times we reflected back the good and the bad. Because of him, I became the true me. Because of him, I changed my life's path by becoming honest with myself and chipping away at the caked-on blinders that inhibited me from really seeing. My life is so much better for having known him.
I learned a great deal and for that I am deeply grateful to him but I had to cut the cord. The pain of breaking it off with him was phenomenal and more intense than I had ever experienced. It would flood my brain, burn my soul, and cause me to feel physically depressed. I can understand why, as the author noted, some turn to drugs or alcohol to numb the pain caused by it. The agony was crippling at times and there was no question that I had to free myself from it.
I didn't cut the cord the way described by the author but it was a conscious effort for me and on multiple occasions I had to stop what I was doing to reject his psychic reaching out to me. I had learned what I was meant to know and even though the relationship had been pared down to friendship, it still was poisonous.
I am finally not angry with him anymore or feel hurt when he crosses my mind. Not that long ago I found that I could wish him love and wellness. I want him to find peace because he deserves it and needs it. Just not with me.
Friday, August 22, 2014
Sucker Punch
Insanity holds hands with hopelessness
And they dance inside my head
Prancing on reason and
Twirling on logic
They spin and twist and jump up and down on my brain.
Inwardly manic; Outwardly calm
Do you ever feel you are crazy the same way I do?
Emotion is driving the car next to the edge of the cliff
Logic is asleep in the trunk knocked out by a sucker punch.
And they dance inside my head
Prancing on reason and
Twirling on logic
They spin and twist and jump up and down on my brain.
Inwardly manic; Outwardly calm
Do you ever feel you are crazy the same way I do?
Emotion is driving the car next to the edge of the cliff
Logic is asleep in the trunk knocked out by a sucker punch.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Vanity
And when you look up at the stars, what do you see? Do you see unending galaxies and universes and lives that are lived far far away? Do you see your destiny? Do you see that you are a mere speck, a teeny dot on a small planet?
I used to fly to Florida on average 2 times a year. I miss it, in a way. It was a luxury. I could get away from the usual and be free. Part of what I miss seeing is the earth from above. Above the clouds. Above the weather. Above daily cares. There is no turbulence at that height.
Life's perspective is different from above. No streets. No people. The first time I watched the beginning of the movie Contact, I held my breath. At least it felt that way. I watched myself pulled backward further and further and further away from Earth my perspective changing and my mind forced into continually adjusting.
We are so small and look at the havoc our small selves are able to create. Horrible atrocities are manifested in the name of some god. Why is it easier to live in fear than walk in love?
I have theories but no answers.
Slow down. Take the time to drift up. No matter what life is like now, it won't always be this way be it better, be it worse, or just different. All you control is what you do now. When you make peace with that, your perspective changes.
I used to fly to Florida on average 2 times a year. I miss it, in a way. It was a luxury. I could get away from the usual and be free. Part of what I miss seeing is the earth from above. Above the clouds. Above the weather. Above daily cares. There is no turbulence at that height.
Life's perspective is different from above. No streets. No people. The first time I watched the beginning of the movie Contact, I held my breath. At least it felt that way. I watched myself pulled backward further and further and further away from Earth my perspective changing and my mind forced into continually adjusting.
We are so small and look at the havoc our small selves are able to create. Horrible atrocities are manifested in the name of some god. Why is it easier to live in fear than walk in love?
I have theories but no answers.
Slow down. Take the time to drift up. No matter what life is like now, it won't always be this way be it better, be it worse, or just different. All you control is what you do now. When you make peace with that, your perspective changes.
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
The Best Cancer to Have
This past Saturday my mother and I spent the afternoon together. We decided we would catch a movie and then an early dinner afterward. We both ate breakfast but skipped lunch and met at the theater at 11:30 for a 1:35 showing to buy our tickets early and shmy at Tuesday Morning first. (It's a Yiddish word. Look it up)
We sat on the phone earlier that morning while I went online to see what theaters were playing what movies. My mother won't see any movie that has aliens, monsters, or men at war. That limited our choices. She likes schmaltzy love stories and with a few exceptions those usually make me want to barf. We narrowed it down to one film we both wanted to see - "The Fault in Our Stars".
I knew it was supposed to be a movie that you either needed a to bring a box of tissues with you or grab a pile of napkins along with your popcorn. What I didn't know was that the heroine of the movie had thyroid cancer that had advanced to her lungs and her prognosis was sketchy. This tidbit of information assaulted me quite early on in the film and it was as if I was punched in the solar plexus. I gasped. I needed air. I felt claustrophobic.
I was still in the miasma of the unknown waiting to hear if one of the lymph nodes left untouched by my last surgery was cancerous. It was a hard movie for me to watch but I was very glad that that was the cancer she had. Thyroid cancer has been minimized by most of the medical community for way too long. "It's the easy cancer." "We have thyroid replacement drugs and you won't even know you don't have a thyroid anymore." I call bullshit!
I am not going to play my tiny violin. I am not going to whine or stand on a soapbox. I hope this movie makes people wake up to the fact that thyroid cancer shouldn't be patted on the head and told to be quiet. It is important to also note that other types of cancers were represented in the film and not just the one that has pink ribbons or football players wearing pink athletic shoes.
This morning I am still feeling like a bird let out of a cage no longer trapped. It is good to be free.
We sat on the phone earlier that morning while I went online to see what theaters were playing what movies. My mother won't see any movie that has aliens, monsters, or men at war. That limited our choices. She likes schmaltzy love stories and with a few exceptions those usually make me want to barf. We narrowed it down to one film we both wanted to see - "The Fault in Our Stars".
I knew it was supposed to be a movie that you either needed a to bring a box of tissues with you or grab a pile of napkins along with your popcorn. What I didn't know was that the heroine of the movie had thyroid cancer that had advanced to her lungs and her prognosis was sketchy. This tidbit of information assaulted me quite early on in the film and it was as if I was punched in the solar plexus. I gasped. I needed air. I felt claustrophobic.
I was still in the miasma of the unknown waiting to hear if one of the lymph nodes left untouched by my last surgery was cancerous. It was a hard movie for me to watch but I was very glad that that was the cancer she had. Thyroid cancer has been minimized by most of the medical community for way too long. "It's the easy cancer." "We have thyroid replacement drugs and you won't even know you don't have a thyroid anymore." I call bullshit!
I am not going to play my tiny violin. I am not going to whine or stand on a soapbox. I hope this movie makes people wake up to the fact that thyroid cancer shouldn't be patted on the head and told to be quiet. It is important to also note that other types of cancers were represented in the film and not just the one that has pink ribbons or football players wearing pink athletic shoes.
This morning I am still feeling like a bird let out of a cage no longer trapped. It is good to be free.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
And the Results Are..............
No Cancer found in any of the biopsy specimens!
Tip one back and celebrate with me. The clock has stopped ticking.
Sunday, August 10, 2014
The Tide
It is August. Over half of the year has passed. I am at the beach cursing that I don't have a pen and paper with me. They are back at the car in my purse in the trunk. I am trying to not to think about the results of the biopsies but I can't stop from doing it. Don't think about a ballerina dressed in pink riding on the back of a circus elephant. See?
I grab my car keys and hike back to the car. I really need to write.
When I got to the beach at 9:30 this morning it was sparsely populated. That's how I like it. The wind is blowing hard and I like that, too. As I get closer to the water, I can see that the tide is coming in as the waves crash to the shoreline. After setting up my blanket and bag, I slather on sunscreen including getting as much of my back as my fingers can reach and I am sure I have left white globs of goop back there.
The sounds of the beach fill my ears. Waves, birds. The water is warm enough to walk right in and as I do I am tossed about. Waves hit me and spray my face. When I lift my feet off of the bottom I am carried by the tide southward so periodically I have to fight my way back trudging against the current fish swimming ahead of me trying to stay out of my way. Sometimes I face the shoreline and watch it pass by fast enough it seems as if I am in a car. Sometimes I drag my feet in the sand to slow the driving water.
Crash into me! Crash into me again! Make me keep my mind on now. I don't want to think. I just want to be. Sea salt is in my mouth and I taste it when I lick my lips. It gets in my eyes and the burning doesn't last long.
Hit me some more! Drop me low and then pick me up and carry me away. Floating up and then pressed down. I stand in front of walls of water topped with froth and enjoy the impact that is so strong I walk backwards. Tire me out, please. I need peace and if it means standing here in your strength being knocked around for an hour then I will.
I finally am tired enough and peaceful enough to leave the water. The beach is inhabited by more people and I know I will want to leave soon. White powdered sugar coats my feet and ankles as I walk back to my blanket.
I grab my car keys and hike back to the car. I really need to write.
When I got to the beach at 9:30 this morning it was sparsely populated. That's how I like it. The wind is blowing hard and I like that, too. As I get closer to the water, I can see that the tide is coming in as the waves crash to the shoreline. After setting up my blanket and bag, I slather on sunscreen including getting as much of my back as my fingers can reach and I am sure I have left white globs of goop back there.
The sounds of the beach fill my ears. Waves, birds. The water is warm enough to walk right in and as I do I am tossed about. Waves hit me and spray my face. When I lift my feet off of the bottom I am carried by the tide southward so periodically I have to fight my way back trudging against the current fish swimming ahead of me trying to stay out of my way. Sometimes I face the shoreline and watch it pass by fast enough it seems as if I am in a car. Sometimes I drag my feet in the sand to slow the driving water.
Crash into me! Crash into me again! Make me keep my mind on now. I don't want to think. I just want to be. Sea salt is in my mouth and I taste it when I lick my lips. It gets in my eyes and the burning doesn't last long.
Hit me some more! Drop me low and then pick me up and carry me away. Floating up and then pressed down. I stand in front of walls of water topped with froth and enjoy the impact that is so strong I walk backwards. Tire me out, please. I need peace and if it means standing here in your strength being knocked around for an hour then I will.
I finally am tired enough and peaceful enough to leave the water. The beach is inhabited by more people and I know I will want to leave soon. White powdered sugar coats my feet and ankles as I walk back to my blanket.
Saturday, August 9, 2014
At the End of the Day
Drawing the blinds
Turning down the bed
Cold soft sheets
Sitting on the edge
Swinging legs up
Feet under sheets
Pushing body under
Lifting bedding up
Head on pillow
Looking at the ceiling
Covering face with hands
Dark room now
Turning on left side
Hugging one pillow
Eyes are closed
Breathing evenly
Dreaming commences
Brain at play
Turning down the bed
Cold soft sheets
Sitting on the edge
Swinging legs up
Feet under sheets
Pushing body under
Lifting bedding up
Head on pillow
Looking at the ceiling
Covering face with hands
Dark room now
Turning on left side
Hugging one pillow
Eyes are closed
Breathing evenly
Dreaming commences
Brain at play
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Yes, Again
Dr. Lupo is always late to his appointments. I resigned myself to that fact when I first starting seeing him. On the other hand, he never rushes in and rushes out. He spends as much time with you as needed and you never feel like you are a pain in the ass to him. He is slightly built with sharp features and a sharp wit. Here is the doctor that watches me for signs of cancer and he always has me laughing. An office visit with the potential of feeling like a wake is instead filled with his bright personality that doesn't allow the darkness to squeeze itself in.
I have answered all of the required questions and filled out the forms on the clipboard. I've been weighed and brought back to one of the exam rooms and told it was a temporary pit stop because I will be moved to the room with the ultrasound equipment shortly. While waiting, I read my book and it helps me remove myself from the current situation, but not for long. I reach over to the left side of my neck with my right hand and find the nodule. OK. It's still there and I didn't imagine it. It hasn't miraculously disappeared. I am right to be here.
The nurse comes in, retrieves me, and we walk to the exam room with the ultrasound equipment and I am told that Dr. Lupo will be in soon to see me. We all know it will be more than a few minutes so I hunker down again, find my place in the book, and continue reading.
There is the quiet knock on the door and in walks my doc. I once again notice his black hair and slender fingers. His smile softens his features and puts me at ease. I do believe he must have changed barbers or hairdressers because I really like the way his hair is cut but I don't have the nerve to broach the topic. It would probably come out all wrong and then I would be stepping all over myself trying to dig my way out of an increasingly embarrassing situation.
He thanks me for being there. Say what?! You heard right, sister. He thanked me for coming in. I try to turn it around and I thank him for making room for me today. He laughs it off and says, "With your history I said bring her on in. We'll take a look at what the problem is."
I show him where the nodule is located and he palpates it. He doesn't think it is a lymph node but lets get the ultrasound going so we have more information. I move to the table and lie down. We get under way and he's thinking out loud and tells me so. I tell him I would rather hear that than nothing.
There appears to be blood flowing through it so he suggests a fine needle biopsy. I've been through those before and they are far from enjoyable. Like another solar system away from enjoyable. I would say galaxy but that would be pushing it.
He gets his nurse in the room and jokes are flying and I can't help but laugh which gets his nurse quietly giggling. Ice is the numbing agent as the lump in question is close to the surface. First needle, second needle, third needle. Done. I take in a deep breath and let it out. Dr. Lupo comments, "Well, she's still breathing." He gives me ice wrapped in gauze and tells me to hold it there while he and his nurse exit.
When they return Dr. Lupo isn't smiling. He looks worried when he tells me that it is in fact a lymph node and he wants to take one more biopsy and this one will hurt more than the others. When he left it was to look at some of the material under his own microscope and that is what he discovered. It is lymph tissue.
I put on my life jacket because the waves have started to crash into the boat and I'll be damned if I am going down. Ice, needle, pain, done. Doc then tells me it hurt more because it was a larger gauge needle to get more tissue but he didn't want to scare me.
I will hear something in 3 to 10 days. If the results are conclusive, it will be closer to the 3 days. If more testing is needed it will be closer to the 10 days. His office will call me and either give me the news over the phone or ask me to come in.
In my head there is now a clock with a countdown. The only time I don't hear it ticking is when I am asleep.
I have answered all of the required questions and filled out the forms on the clipboard. I've been weighed and brought back to one of the exam rooms and told it was a temporary pit stop because I will be moved to the room with the ultrasound equipment shortly. While waiting, I read my book and it helps me remove myself from the current situation, but not for long. I reach over to the left side of my neck with my right hand and find the nodule. OK. It's still there and I didn't imagine it. It hasn't miraculously disappeared. I am right to be here.
The nurse comes in, retrieves me, and we walk to the exam room with the ultrasound equipment and I am told that Dr. Lupo will be in soon to see me. We all know it will be more than a few minutes so I hunker down again, find my place in the book, and continue reading.
There is the quiet knock on the door and in walks my doc. I once again notice his black hair and slender fingers. His smile softens his features and puts me at ease. I do believe he must have changed barbers or hairdressers because I really like the way his hair is cut but I don't have the nerve to broach the topic. It would probably come out all wrong and then I would be stepping all over myself trying to dig my way out of an increasingly embarrassing situation.
He thanks me for being there. Say what?! You heard right, sister. He thanked me for coming in. I try to turn it around and I thank him for making room for me today. He laughs it off and says, "With your history I said bring her on in. We'll take a look at what the problem is."
I show him where the nodule is located and he palpates it. He doesn't think it is a lymph node but lets get the ultrasound going so we have more information. I move to the table and lie down. We get under way and he's thinking out loud and tells me so. I tell him I would rather hear that than nothing.
There appears to be blood flowing through it so he suggests a fine needle biopsy. I've been through those before and they are far from enjoyable. Like another solar system away from enjoyable. I would say galaxy but that would be pushing it.
He gets his nurse in the room and jokes are flying and I can't help but laugh which gets his nurse quietly giggling. Ice is the numbing agent as the lump in question is close to the surface. First needle, second needle, third needle. Done. I take in a deep breath and let it out. Dr. Lupo comments, "Well, she's still breathing." He gives me ice wrapped in gauze and tells me to hold it there while he and his nurse exit.
When they return Dr. Lupo isn't smiling. He looks worried when he tells me that it is in fact a lymph node and he wants to take one more biopsy and this one will hurt more than the others. When he left it was to look at some of the material under his own microscope and that is what he discovered. It is lymph tissue.
I put on my life jacket because the waves have started to crash into the boat and I'll be damned if I am going down. Ice, needle, pain, done. Doc then tells me it hurt more because it was a larger gauge needle to get more tissue but he didn't want to scare me.
I will hear something in 3 to 10 days. If the results are conclusive, it will be closer to the 3 days. If more testing is needed it will be closer to the 10 days. His office will call me and either give me the news over the phone or ask me to come in.
In my head there is now a clock with a countdown. The only time I don't hear it ticking is when I am asleep.
Tuesday, August 5, 2014
Not Again
It was just another morning at work. Pete, the maintenance man extraordinaire, and I were talking while he was collecting the kitchen garbage to be hauled out to the street for pick-up. I have no idea why I did this or what prompted me to do it but without thinking I reached up with my right hand to touch a spot on the left lower part of my neck. I felt a small lump. A nodule which shouldn't be there. WTF. I kept my finger on it and asked Pete, as he was walking the garbage to the front door, if he would take a look at it. He said "Sure" because that is the kind of guy Pete is. We got close to the window and I took my finger off of the spot. Pete said, "Yeah. I see something. You can see it. It's a little lump." To which I replied, "Is it under a scar?" Pete said, "No."
I thanked him and said out loud to no one that now I had to call my doctor.
I don't want to go through this again.
I walked into my office, grabbed my purse, and pulled out my wallet to look for my endocrinologist's business card. I was panicking. My emotional response was immediate.
Felicia, one of my co-workers fantastico, walked over to my office and stopped at the door. I told her what was going on and yes, I started tearing up.
I don't want to go through this again.
Felicia is an excellent listener. When I apologized for my obvious loss of control of my emotions, she said if it were her she would be doing the same thing. I shouldn't worry about it. She didn't pepper with me with questions I couldn't answer but instead let me talk and made it clear to me that she understood. She was supportive without going overboard and didn't fall apart with me.
After digging around I had to admit to myself that I didn't have the doc's business card so I went online. Through all of this Felicia stood by until I picked up the phone to call his office.
I feel better because of Felicia. I don't know that I will have to go through this again.
I got through to the office and after explaining the situation to the woman that answered the phone she passed me on to my doctor's nurse, Melissa....I think. I am so bad with names. She pulled up my chart and started asking me questions. What was the size of it? Where exactly was it located? In order to answer that question I had to walk to the bathroom and look in the mirror. I kept leaving the bathroom and she would have another question and I kept having to walk back in. We ended up laughing about it because she could hear me opening the bathroom door over and over. She tried to catch Dr. Lupo (yes, like the wolf) between patients but wasn't successful so she said she would have to call me back.
Felicia staunched the emotional bleeding some more simply by listening to me as I tried to busy myself as I waited. I didn't know if Dr. Lupo would see me or if he would send me to my primary care first. After a few minutes she and I went back to our respective offices. It wasn't too long a wait when my cell phone rang.
Hope. Please good news.
It was the original woman that answered the phone asking me if I could come in at 4 pm as Dr. Lupo wants to see me and perform an ultrasound, too. Felicia had walked to the door of her office and was looking at me. "Yes", I said. "I can come in at 4." Felicia nodded in agreement. The woman reiterated it was today at 4 pm and I reconfirmed.
I thanked him and said out loud to no one that now I had to call my doctor.
I don't want to go through this again.
I walked into my office, grabbed my purse, and pulled out my wallet to look for my endocrinologist's business card. I was panicking. My emotional response was immediate.
Felicia, one of my co-workers fantastico, walked over to my office and stopped at the door. I told her what was going on and yes, I started tearing up.
I don't want to go through this again.
Felicia is an excellent listener. When I apologized for my obvious loss of control of my emotions, she said if it were her she would be doing the same thing. I shouldn't worry about it. She didn't pepper with me with questions I couldn't answer but instead let me talk and made it clear to me that she understood. She was supportive without going overboard and didn't fall apart with me.
After digging around I had to admit to myself that I didn't have the doc's business card so I went online. Through all of this Felicia stood by until I picked up the phone to call his office.
I feel better because of Felicia. I don't know that I will have to go through this again.
I got through to the office and after explaining the situation to the woman that answered the phone she passed me on to my doctor's nurse, Melissa....I think. I am so bad with names. She pulled up my chart and started asking me questions. What was the size of it? Where exactly was it located? In order to answer that question I had to walk to the bathroom and look in the mirror. I kept leaving the bathroom and she would have another question and I kept having to walk back in. We ended up laughing about it because she could hear me opening the bathroom door over and over. She tried to catch Dr. Lupo (yes, like the wolf) between patients but wasn't successful so she said she would have to call me back.
Felicia staunched the emotional bleeding some more simply by listening to me as I tried to busy myself as I waited. I didn't know if Dr. Lupo would see me or if he would send me to my primary care first. After a few minutes she and I went back to our respective offices. It wasn't too long a wait when my cell phone rang.
Hope. Please good news.
It was the original woman that answered the phone asking me if I could come in at 4 pm as Dr. Lupo wants to see me and perform an ultrasound, too. Felicia had walked to the door of her office and was looking at me. "Yes", I said. "I can come in at 4." Felicia nodded in agreement. The woman reiterated it was today at 4 pm and I reconfirmed.
Saturday, August 2, 2014
The Definition of You
Cancer walked me through 2 surgeries and 3 radioactive iodine treatments. It grabbed my head and forced me to look at death and ergo to look at life. In 2011 I physically changed my life by moving to Florida from Maryland. In 2014 I am making internal changes.
As we all know, my mother is 79 and this coming January she will be 80. She has talked about death and heaven and what do I believe? We've had this conversation a number of times and I say the same thing to her each time. We are a soul, or spirit. We need our physical body in order to live in this plain. When our physical body dies, we move from this plain to another one and we continue on because we are not our bodies.
I was at Petco this morning picking up canned food for everybody - Senator, Trixie, and Poppy. Because Poppy has food allergies, I have to buy him the expensive brands that don't have grains and a lot of ingredients. Senator and Trixie think the cheaper the food the better it tastes but I am careful about their diets, too. By the time I get in line to pay I have about had it with the whole shopping process. Even though I have breasts and a uterus I don't like to shop. I got to the only register open and I am happy that I am next in line until I see the cashier is in the middle of some kind of refund/rebate/difficult customer process and she is working methodically but feverishly as the line behind me grows. I put on my Zen cap and decided that I would remain calm. My getting irritated was not going to change what was happening. It would only make things worse.
When I am forced into a situation like that, I look around for things to occupy my thoughts. I realize that the man in front of me with his hands on the cart was huge. He was possibly 6 1/2 feet tall and his biceps were the size of my thighs. His skin was taught and I could see where it had to stretch around the huge muscles. His back was broad and he had stubble on his legs from when he last shaved them. He was obviously a body builder. I looked at his hair and I saw a lot of grey. He wasn't a kid and it was evident he had been working on his physique for some time. A woman walked in the "out" door and stood in front of the cart. She was maybe in her early 40s and she was with him. She looked intensely at his face as she scanned it for queues. I could see her eyes take him in and calculate his mood. I wondered if his size and build made her feel protected or if it intimidated her. I wondered if I could be with a man that looked like that and I decided I couldn't.
He created his appearance to communicate something. He was his own artwork. He was better than Michelangelo's David because he was not a statue made of stone. He was man.
The only part of his face I saw was his profile when he looked at the cashier. Otherwise he was looking straight ahead. When it finally came to pay, both he and the woman reached for their respective wallets. His was a money clip and even though he pulled money from it it was like he was moving in slow motion. He was actually waiting for her to step in and pay, and she did. It made me wonder about him some more.
No matter what he does to his body it is his soul, his spirit, that ultimately defines him. What he does with his life, who he has touched, how he as loved, and if he has helped or hurt - these are the things that matter. I am asking you to look beyond the body and see the person that inhabits it.
As we all know, my mother is 79 and this coming January she will be 80. She has talked about death and heaven and what do I believe? We've had this conversation a number of times and I say the same thing to her each time. We are a soul, or spirit. We need our physical body in order to live in this plain. When our physical body dies, we move from this plain to another one and we continue on because we are not our bodies.
I was at Petco this morning picking up canned food for everybody - Senator, Trixie, and Poppy. Because Poppy has food allergies, I have to buy him the expensive brands that don't have grains and a lot of ingredients. Senator and Trixie think the cheaper the food the better it tastes but I am careful about their diets, too. By the time I get in line to pay I have about had it with the whole shopping process. Even though I have breasts and a uterus I don't like to shop. I got to the only register open and I am happy that I am next in line until I see the cashier is in the middle of some kind of refund/rebate/difficult customer process and she is working methodically but feverishly as the line behind me grows. I put on my Zen cap and decided that I would remain calm. My getting irritated was not going to change what was happening. It would only make things worse.
When I am forced into a situation like that, I look around for things to occupy my thoughts. I realize that the man in front of me with his hands on the cart was huge. He was possibly 6 1/2 feet tall and his biceps were the size of my thighs. His skin was taught and I could see where it had to stretch around the huge muscles. His back was broad and he had stubble on his legs from when he last shaved them. He was obviously a body builder. I looked at his hair and I saw a lot of grey. He wasn't a kid and it was evident he had been working on his physique for some time. A woman walked in the "out" door and stood in front of the cart. She was maybe in her early 40s and she was with him. She looked intensely at his face as she scanned it for queues. I could see her eyes take him in and calculate his mood. I wondered if his size and build made her feel protected or if it intimidated her. I wondered if I could be with a man that looked like that and I decided I couldn't.
He created his appearance to communicate something. He was his own artwork. He was better than Michelangelo's David because he was not a statue made of stone. He was man.
The only part of his face I saw was his profile when he looked at the cashier. Otherwise he was looking straight ahead. When it finally came to pay, both he and the woman reached for their respective wallets. His was a money clip and even though he pulled money from it it was like he was moving in slow motion. He was actually waiting for her to step in and pay, and she did. It made me wonder about him some more.
No matter what he does to his body it is his soul, his spirit, that ultimately defines him. What he does with his life, who he has touched, how he as loved, and if he has helped or hurt - these are the things that matter. I am asking you to look beyond the body and see the person that inhabits it.
Friday, August 1, 2014
Internet Rant!
I don't usually rant but I have been thinking a lot about how the internet has changed our lives and who we are as people. Unacceptable behavior used to have consequences because it was person to person IN person. Now everyone has keyboard courage and being a dick is easily accomplished with a few key strokes. There is very little personal responsibility because it is so easy to get away with acting like a pile of rubbish stinking up the places you enter. We have lost empathy and instead have reverted to simple primal behaviors. Men beating their chests with their fists and women being able to behave badly and not be embarrassed by it because they cannot be seen. There is damage being done, people. These aren't victim-less crimes. I read news stories online and want to rail against the ignorant comments full of judgment from people that think it is part of their entitlement as a human being to criticize others while they stand in their smelly shoes and don't think they stink because they can no longer smell their own rottenness. Our cores are drying up and turning brown and ugly.
On a lighter note, I accidentally burped in my dog's face the other night and all he did was sniff the air. Only dogs would find a rude burp full of interesting information.
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