Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Tuesday Afternoon

1. Where will you be and doing this Tuesday afternoon? Hopefully I'll be walking a little faster as I go from bedroom to sofa and back again. I'm recovering from surgery on Sept. 9. I want each day to be a little better than the day before.

2. Do you belong to any group(s)? I'm a registered Democrat and a member of my church congregation.

3. Do you feel energized or drained by being in a group situation? (If the answer is "it depends," on what does it depend?) If it's a professional situation, I'm energized because I'm most confident there. Socially, group situations can really tire me out because I'm not as sure of myself.

4. Is there a role you naturally put yourself while adapting when in group situations? Interviewer. I try to draw people out and get them talking about themselves.

5. In business or formal situations, do you mind hugs or are you offended if it goes past a handshake? I think business hugs are weird, yes.

6. Do you find what we'd call “ice breakers” a playful way to build community in a lighthearted manner, or a complete and utter hell of forced fun and awkwardness? Oh, the latter!

7. What word do you use far too frequently? "Fuck." Shame on me.

8. What word do you use not frequently enough? "Gubernatorial." It's great fun to say. "Penal" is good, too. Fortunately, being from the Land of Lincoln, I do get to use both words in the same sentence.

9. What word do you use when swearing is not appropriate? "Golly." It's a weak and unsatisfying substitute.

To reach out, or not to reach out?

My best friend and I are very different. I'm smarter and quicker, he's wiser and more deliberative. I'm stronger, he's more sensitive. He's more active in his spare time, I'm more introspective.

The fundamental differences between us are reflected in how we're handling sensitive family matters, too.

His sister Sherry has a drinking problem. When she drinks she feels defensive and persecuted, and lashes out at relatives. She took off after their mother after the funeral of a family friend … verbally attacked their younger sister for choosing to leave her kids to my best friend and not Sherry in her will (it was just a precaution, the younger sister is healthy and happy and has no intention of leaving us for decades). She invited my best friend and his family over to spend the day with her and her kids. They were all enjoying the visit until a neighbor called and invited Sherry to go on a boat ride. And she went -- leaving her kids alone at home with my best friend and his family. These are just the stories that are top of mind. There are probably a half dozen more that I can't think of right now.

The siblings and Mom got together and confronted Sherry about her drinking and she told them all to get lost. This was over a year ago. No one in the family has heard from her since, even though they all live within 25 miles of one another.

My best friend has never stopped worrying about Sherry and especially her children. Over the summer he sent her a text message, asking her to lunch. Just to re-establish contact. When he got no response whatsoever, he thought perhaps she wasn't ready to talk yet, or maybe she didn't have that cellphone anymore. Thursday, out of the blue, she texted him back, inviting him to lunch today. He was nervous about it, but happy, too. I'm waiting to hear how it went.

Even if their lunch isn't a success, I applaud his courage in opening his heart and trying to reconnect.

And then there's me. Our family patriarch molested me when I was in high school. For years afterward, every time we got together as a family, he tormented me ... whispering questions about if I like the feel of a tongue in my ear, whether I masturbate, how often I have intercourse, etc. He seemed to get off on the power he had, knowing that I wouldn't make a scene and expose him for the pig he is, or maybe trying to emphasize that I wouldn't be believed even if I did. Finally, about 15 years ago, I decided not to cover for him anymore and have simply refused to be in any room he is in. Even when it was the funeral service for my beloved uncle. Sometimes it has hurt to absent myself from our "big, happy family" gatherings, but it's more than worth it for the feeling of power it has restored to me. Power over my own body. Power to acknowledge the truth.

In yesterday's mail I received a get well card from him. It's still unopened in my kitchen, nestled among the newspapers in my recycling bag. And there it will stay until I feel ready to take it down to the bin behind the building.

I am trying to maintain my thankful heart, to celebrate how fabulous it is that my ovary and endometrial lining were both benign, to fully feel and appreciate the love and support of my friends. But opening my heart to him would cost me too much. I cannot accept the olive branch he extended. I don't believe he is sincere, I can't trust that he doesn't still want to damage me.

Too much!

Naughty Gal! I know I'm supposed to walk every day ... I was feeling pretty good, so I got dressed, put on makeup for the first time in a week, and did a little walk around a 5 square block area of my neighborhood. It didn't seem like a big deal when I embarked on it. I checked the bakery and convenience store in an unsuccessful attempt to find English muffins, stopped by the pet boutique for cat treats and dropped in at Five Guys for a little cheeseburger to go. The whole trip took less than an hour. But right now I'm soooo beat!

Doesn't everyone?

As I monitored the brouhaha caused by Texas Gov. Rick Perry's cozy relationship with the drug manufacturer, Merck, I had a moment of self-revelation. For as a lifelong Illinoisan, my first response was a yawn. I mean, don't all governors introduce legislation that benefits their campaign contributors?

This Texas-sized fuss tells me once again that they don't. And shouldn't. And I should be far more outraged by this behavior than I am. There's an excuse for my cynicism, though. Check out the fates of 5 of the 8 Illinois governors of my lifetime:

• Rod Blagojevich (D) was found guilty of 17 federal offenses.

• George Ryan (R) is currently serving a 6 1/2-year sentence in federal prison.

• Dan Walker (D) plead guilty to bank fraud.

• Otto Kerner (D) was convicted of bribery charges.

• William Stratton (R) was charged with tax evasion, but was acquitted.

I have a tendency to laugh at their behavior and I shouldn't. It's appalling. It doesn't have to be this way, and we Illinois voters should demand that the corruption finally end.

Time with the family

One of the good things to come from this medical adventure is feeling reconnected with the important people in my life. First and foremost, my mom.

She sat with me in the waiting area before surgery and stayed, along with my oldest niece (in from California) until my doctor came out with the "benign" pronouncement. Then she visited me in the hospital on Sunday and came along with my friend Kathleen to pick me up on Monday. She brought orange juice and chocolate pudding.

She stayed here with me until Wednesday night -- taking my temperature, monitoring my meds, listening at the door when I took my showers, setting up my humidifier, doing a load of wash and ensuring that I could make the walk around the block to the doctor's office. Last night, when she was satisfied that I was doing as well as a person can less than a week after major surgery, she packed up and went home.

The best thing about having her here was not being babied -- though I do like knowing I have chocolate pudding cups in the kitchen. It was spending time with her. Together we watched the ABC special about the Jacqueline Kennedy tapes and Dr. Phil's interviews with Casey Anthony's parents. I enjoyed watching her dote on my cats. As she kept an eagle eye on my health, I tweaked her about hers. We hugged a lot. It was lovely.

Then there was my favorite niece. She's only in town for a week before leaving for college in Michigan. Weeks ago, before I went into the hospital, she promised me she would see me before she went away to school. I knew she would. She came by last night to bring me a get well present and to take my mom home. But it took her an hour to arrive, and when she did, her face was swollen and red with tears of humiliation and frustration.

Her parents got a new car, a van, and she just began driving it. She unwisely tried to squeeze it into one of the small spaces in my building garage and found herself stuck. After trying over and over to maneuver it out of the garage without hitting a pole or another car, she gave in and called her dad. He came out in his truck, parked it on the street, went in and navigated the van to safety.

We all praised her for being smart enough to ask for help, for not proudly and immaturely risking damage to herself or the new van. Still, she was drenched in embarrassment. She is so excited about her status as a burgeoning independent woman and she had to call her daddy for help! I'm reminded anew of how young she still is, and how lucky we are that my brother-in-law is such a wise and loving dad.

And my oldest friend. She's been checking on me regularly, calling often, even persuading them to give me the phone while I was still in the recovery room after surgery. I have no recollection of this, of course, but she reports to me that I complained of being thirsty and told her she was really my sister. It was she who first told me my cyst and endometrial lining were benign. And I suspect she was the one really behind the basket of autumn flowers sent to my hospital room by "Sir Paul."

Is it any wonder that I am heartened by all the good that has come from this rather awful experience? I must remember to celebrate with the "thankful heart" the hospital chaplain and I discussed.

Uh-oh

Yesterday, a few hours after leaving the doctor, I discovered a few drops of blood on my panties and my nightshirt. This morning when I changed the bandage, I found them again. It's at the very top and the very bottom of the incision. I'm going to continue keeping it clean and covered and, if it continues through the weekend, I'll call the doctor.

Oh yeah! The rash on my tummy my doctor knows about is still there, too. Yes, if Monday isn't a clearer day in The Land of the Incision, I'm definitely calling the doctor.

Busy Day!

This was an important day post-op.

• Mailed letters. It was raining and in the 50's. Monday, the last time I was outside, was sunny and 80º.

• Visited with my doctor and had a belly-full of staples removed. There was very little blood and no pain at all while he was doing it, and he pronounced my incision area as looking very good. (I pronounce it as looking a little yellowy-green and angry, but then, I'm no MD.) My cyst weighed just under 5 lbs. FIVE POUNDS! No wonder I always felt so bloated and fat!

• Bought a lottery ticket and a bottle of milk.

• Stopped at Subway and had my first potato chips in a week. It felt good to crunch again.

It all took about an hour. It was both exhilarating and tiring. My best friend is right -- I have to think of this recovery thing as a process, not an event.

Quick overview of the last four days

Thursday I dosed myself with Gavilyte, which left me clean as a whistle. It's an unpleasant but necessary experience.

Friday I got to the hospital, along with my oldest niece and my mom, at about 10:30. This was me being careful, as I wasn't scheduled to be admitted until 11:00 for a 1:00 surgery time. My cough was still very evident, so I had to wear a mask.

At about 1:00 (!) we were finally hustled back to another waiting area. The nurse, a very nice woman -- everyone was very nice, made it clear that if it was up to her my surgery would be rescheduled because that cough was just too much. I began to freak out because I don't think I could stand having the surgery rescheduled. An anesthesiologist came by and pronounced me good to go. Meanwhile, we just sat around and waited and waited. My mom and oldest niece drank coffee.

Finally, at 3:30, we got definitive word: my surgery wouldn't be until 5:00. The patient my doctors were currently working on ran very long, and then they needed a while to relax and refresh and make sure the room was ready for me.

I was in surgery until about 8:00. That's when my doctor told my mom that everything is benign and shared a photo of my cyst. I now have the lovely image. Forget a stapler -- it was about 11"x8"x5". It was shaped like a FOOTBALL! No wonder I have been suffering from bloat and fatigue, etc. I had a football filled (mostly) with fluid inside of me!

Saturday I woke up in my hospital room with a bitching case of dry mouth, feeling very, very sore. But when my oldest friend called to check on me, and to tell me that I am cancer free, my spirits soared! I am so grateful not only for the test results but for all the prayers and concentrated good thoughts that came my way.

Friends and family called and texted all afternoon. It was such a balm for my spirit! And it's very humbling to know what esteem I am held in. I hope this experience leaves me a better person than the one I was when I came in.

Just getting out of bed and moving to the sofa was an event. I was so weak, and every time I coughed -- which was often -- it hurt a lot.

Sunday I lost my catheter and my pain pump but kept the oxygen. I also saw the incision for the first time. OUCH! My navel is still bruised and filled with crusted blood. Bright, shiny staples hold my wound together, ranging from my belly button all the way down to my pubic bone. The nurses and residents doing rounds have all deemed it "very good." You'll have to pardon me if my own assessment isn't quite as enthusiastic.

I walked a few laps around the surgical floor, ate broth and rice krispies and 2% milk, drank LOTS of water and the occasional Coke to ward off a caffeine headache, and watched a Friends marathon on Nick @ Nite. (I have been so supportive of Jennifer Aniston's often lackluster movie career that it was only fitting she come through for me.) It made me just happy enough to get my mind off my own trouble.

Monday there was much joy in Hospital Land because I farted. No, really. That painful little toot empowered the nurses to order a real breakfast for me. After I proved I could keep my sausages down, I was cleared to come home.

And here I am, blogging in the living room as my mom slumbers in the den. I prefer to keep my real and cyber lives separate, so I may not update this again for a few days.

But that doesn't take away from my "thankful heart." The hospital chaplain and I prayed together last Saturday and felt very good and very right to celebrate my gifts in a more formal way.

Again, thank you each very much!

Benign!

The happiest two syllables EVER! Thanks to everyone for your concern. I'm home now, and will post more tomorrow.

I'm very grateful for all the good wishes and prayers.

THURSDAY THIRTEEN #139

THE IPOD SHUFFLE
THIRTEEN SONGS CHOSEN AT RANDOM

Aka The "yeah-I'm-a-Baby-Boomer-what-of-it-don't-judge-me!" Edition

1. Brilliant Disguise. Bruce Springsteen

2. New Kid in Town. The Eagles

3. Needle in a Haystack. The Velvelettes

4. Super Duper Love (Are You Digging on Me?). Joss Stone

5. Lowdown. Boz Scaggs

6. Smoke from a Distant Fire. John Townsend



7. Sometime in the Morning. The Monkees

8. San Quentin. Johnny Cash

9. Authority Song. John Mellencamp

10. Crackers. Barbara Mandrell

11. You've Got a Friend. Dusty Springfield

12. Band on the Run. Paul McCartney & Wings

13. I Would Die 4 U. Prince

For more information, or to play along yourself, click here.

I'm sooooo tiredll

All I have done today is sleep. It's wearying, having a cold and waiting for surgery. I'm glad the wait is almost over.

At least I hope it is. I'm still coughing. It's possible that under these circumstances the anesthesiologist will feel squeamish about putting me under. The physician's assistant I spoke to feels it's unlikely, since my chest x-ray was clear and my bloodwork shows no infection, but it's ultimately up to the anesthesiologist. I'll find out tomorrow.

It's maddening! But no more maddening than the snafu I encountered this morning. The hospital where I'll be having the surgery called and said they never received my bloodwork. Neither did my oncologist's office! I visited the lab back on August 27. (I know because I blogged about it! Today was a great moment in my personal blog history, because I actually pulled up that post when I called the lab to confirm which day I appeared in their waiting area.)

That was finally straightened off after much time on hold, listening to tinny piano instrumental muzak. Then I found out that the insurance company never submitted the necessary short-term disability paperwork to my doctor. I'll call them tomorrow. I just couldn't cope with being on hold another moment today.

Tom the account guy gave me a card. Dave the art director brought me more movies to watch during my convalescence. I got lots of hugs. Lana took one last opportunity to tell me about her doomed romance, and it was nice to be reassured she's fond of me and to be distracted from my upcoming "gutting." I attended a status meeting and kicked off a project that will be presented before I return. That was weird.

My boss was weird, too. I asked him if he was sure he'd still need me in six weeks and instead of, "of course," he said, "we'll see." Then, after he saw my face he added, "Don't worry, we'll save some work for you." Bastard.

I gabbed to my oldest friend for a while. She was great, as only she can be. I must remember this. She walked me through the hospital process and made me laugh along the way. She can always make me laugh and she knows how to chill me out. And I know she loves me. Important to remember!

Kathleen gave me a ride home and reassured me about cancer. She, after all, would know that even if I have it, it doesn't have to be dire. Then I got home and slept on the couch.

It's been stressful.

Lucy! You got some 'splainin' to do!

My "I Love Lucy" alarm clock has suddenly become unreliable! I won't find out my surgery time until tomorrow, but what if it's like 6:00 AM or something? I must have a dependable alarm clock. Lucy, Ethel, I'm sorry. I love you girls but I have to call in back up.

It seems everything around me is breaking or falling apart!

Nice

One of my usually annoying coworkers asked me to lunch today to one of my favorite restaurants, Ada's. One of the reasons I love Ada's is the chicken soup comes in these huuuuuuge bowls and I still have a cough. She told me about her long holiday weekend, including the man who kissed her Saturday night on the train, and she listened to me cough and fret about surgery. On the way back to the office, I acknowledged that it must not exactly be a party to be near me these days. She rubbed my shoulder and said no, I'm still fun to be around and it's OK. She was being so nice! I realize I'm a hideous drag. But I did sense it made her happy to be helpful.

I was touched, so I asked her if she wouldn't mind helping me out during my convalescence. I'm not supposed to do stairs at all, and there's no way to commute to the our office without them. The trains and our building are both stairs, stairs, stairs. I asked her if, towards the end of my recovery, she would take a day off to come out to my place, pick me up, and make the trip to work with me. A test run. She said she'd mark it on her calendar.

Sometimes people surprise you. I should be nicer.

The saddens me

I luxuriated in the inanity of the Jerry Lewis MDA Telethon. I bathed in the plate spinners, the ventriloquists, the impersonators, the clowns ... the acts I only saw during the Jerry Lewis MDA Telethon. And then there was Jerry himself. Mr. Maudlin. Extolling the virtues of the perFORmers, practitioners of the business known as show. Always finding new and creative ways to offend.

This year there was no Jerry! I never even tuned in.

I know I'm in the minority, since MDA made more than $2 million more than it did last year, with Jerry, but I'm not contributing to MDA anymore. For while I enjoyed watching and making fun, I always paid for the privilege. No Jerry, no Gal.

Yes, he's an ass. But he also dedicated a half century to publicizing this cause and raising a ton of money for it. He deserved better than he got this year. He earned the right to sing, "You'll Never Walk Alone" to children who will never walk at all. And if I can't make fun of the tastelessness of that moment, my checkbook stays shut.

He was right

My best friend is the Felix to my Oscar. A place for everything and everything in its place. I often ask him if his compulsion to clean doesn't add to his stress. He insists no, that it makes his life more comfortable and enables him to be more productive.

I think I get it now.

My home is neater than it's been in years. I have taken Hefty bags to the dumpster and 78 books to Goodwill. I've hung things up and put things away. It's by no means a showplace (I can still see 11 pair of shoes from here) but it's more organized. And it gives me an interesting feeling when I enter a room. Surprised, a little pleased.

"Invest in a Dream"

That was one of my concepts, presented a couple weeks ago and chosen by the client before the Labor Day break. And it was the last thought I had before I woke up with a start just now. Why should I be awakened by a dream about a relatively small project that went well? Why can't I turn off my mind and sleep at night but I can doze off on the sofa and waste an entire afternoon? Why is this fucking cough still plaguing me?

This blog is becoming a chronicle of how I'm unraveling before surgery, isn't it? Sorry about that. But I promised myself this would be an accurate reflection of who I am at any given moment, and right now my stapler cyst is casting a huge shadow over my whole life.

It's not all bad. I'm reminding myself to find the things that make me happy in life. Sunday, returning from the store, I walked behind a mom and her two little girls. They were close in age, perhaps twins but not identical, dressed the same. Gray blouses, pink jumpers and gray tights. Black sandals that kept coming undone. Dangling little white circles from their ears. I suspect that either the ear piercing or the longer earrings were relatively new because the one with the straight hair kept trying to keep hers still, pressing them against her head as she walked. It caused her to lag behind. It touched my heart and fascinated me to see two little girls appear so similar and yet in that moment I could see how individual they were.

My nephew and I talked on the phone -- he has a cough, too, and we didn't want to make one another sicker. He's very excited about his creative writing class. His teacher -- a man! still a glamorous exception in the sixth grade world -- handed out magazines and instructed the kids to cut out random pictures. Their weekend assignment was to write a paragraph about each photograph. My nephew was proud that his paragraph about the photo of a farmer and cow wasn't about the farmer and the cow, but about how good milk tastes on a hot summer day. He's confident his teacher will be impressed by the spin he put on the assignment and I'm happy he's excited about this class. After all, I turned creative writing class into a career, maybe he will, too.

OK. I have coughed, taken my temperature (still 97.1, which is normal for this Gal), dosed myself with cough syrup, swigged some oj and FB'd & blogged. This has taken a little over 30 minutes. I think I'm ready to try to sleep again.

Oh, how I wish this was all behind me and I was looking back on it!

Sunday Stealing

Sunday Stealing: The 20 Questions of Doom Meme

Cheers to all of us thieves!

1. Do you believe in Heaven? Yes.

2. Have you ever come close to dying? I very nearly got creamed by a cab. I think about it every time I pass the spot where it (very nearly) happened.

3. What jewelery do you wear 24/7? The lotus ring on my left ring finger.

4. Would you ever consider having plastic surgery? Surgery? No. Botox? Maybe. But that's an injectable.

5. What do you wear to bed? Oversized t-shirt and granny panties. Yes, I'm a hottie.

6. Have you ever done anything illegal? I jaywalk regularly.

7. Who was the last person that you touched? A cashier.

8. Where did you eat last? My livingroom.

9. Besides your own blog, are there any that you routinely read but never comment on? Yes, I've got a blogroll right there.

10. Ever been involved with the police? I briefly dated a cop. Does that count?

11. Do you talk in your sleep? So I'm told. I also snore and drool. Like I said, I'm a hottie.

12. Now a celebrity fantasy. Who would you take on a ménage à trois for a dirty weekend? The two Bruces -- Willis and Springsteen. I just lay back and let the men take turns doing all the work. Sigh. Heaven. (It's stunning how quickly the answer to this one came to me.)

13. Do you feel that you’ve had a truly successful life? I suppose I have. I measure myself against Wilbur's eulogy of Charlotte in Charlotte's Web: "It's not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer. Charlotte was both." That's what I strive for and at times I succeed.

14. Where do you wish you were? One month in the future, looking back on this period. I want to say, "Surgery wasn't so bad."

15. Have you ever ridden in an ambulance? Nope.

16. Is there any type of dancing that you love to do? Any type. I'm stunningly graceless.

17. Last gift you received? I can't think of anything.

18. Last sport you played? I can't think of anything.

19. Last place you went on holiday? Colonial Williamsburg.

20. Current Song? It's an oldie that my best friend used to mention to me when times got tough.

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Money Grabber

1. Has anyone ever intentionally ripped you off? Or perhaps unintentionally? I have had my purse stolen twice. It sucks.

2. When was the last time that you made a quip that fell completely flat and embarrassed you? In my office a couple weeks ago. I was chatting with my boss and got distracted by an email that came in. It included a photo of Jon Hamm/Don Draper looking sooo fine. One doesn't expect to see such a thing in a business email! The pun I made after that was very lame. My mind was no longer on topic.

3. When you go to sleep, does it you need to be absolutely quiet or do you need a little noise (radio, TV, music or white)? Depends. If I need to get to sleep but I'm not tired, I need the TV.

4. Do you have a memorable "ripped clothing" moment in your life? No? How about in someone else's? (Come on, you know you have something to contribute!) I loved my John Lennon Rock 'n Roll shirt. So much so that I objected when my boyfriend really wanted to pull the scoop neck way down. He thought it would be make me hot, and under other circumstances it might have. But I really loved that shirt.

5. What's changed on your blog since its inception? ...a redo? ...a change of pace? ...or is it still business as usual? The template has changed a couple times.

6. Can you remember where you were in life ten years ago? If you could travel back in time and whisper something to yourself ten years ago, what would it be? "Don't take him too seriously."

7. Okay, let's have it! What's the craziest, most impulsive thing you've ever done? A few years back, while ringing in the New Year in Key West, I hiked up my slacks and went running into the ocean at midnight. It seemed rather natural and was nice and warm and refreshing. I wonder why no one joined me ...

8. If you were having a bad day what or who would you turn to for comfort? My best friend

9. According to the song White Rabbit, "one pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small". If you were offered these pills today, which pill would you take and where would it take you? The one that makes me small. I'm big enough, thank you.

I can't do this right now

I can't worry about my oldest friend, her kids and the tumult that is her life. When I last heard from her -- on Wednesday -- her son was having "a tantrum like a 2 year old" because neither of his parents can foot the bill for his $25,000+ college education. He was banging the walls again, which left her with a broken light switch in the bathroom. Her fault, he maintains, because she didn't heed his warning when he told her to "not fucking talk to him."

I called yesterday.

I called twice today. And I'm back to hearing nothing but crickets.

I know she picks up the phone, sees it's me, and puts it down. I hate that. She knows I hate it. I've told her. Since it isn't her goal to punish me, I know it's that she's overwhelmed by the mess that is her life since she moved to the Hills of Beverly. And I know it must be especially heart breaking because this move was supposed to solve all her problems.

I love her and I'm genuinely sorry this is all happening to her.

But my feelings matter, too. She knows how terrified I am. That's why she gave way to that generous impulse to drop everything and fly out here to be with me. And I can't spend any more time or effort reaching out to her. It's exhausting me when I can least afford to be exhausted.

Now that's what friends are for

Last night my friend John and I met for burgers and drinks at the same bar we've been going to for ... um ... 30 years. Gulp. If those walls could talk! Anyway, he was swell, listening patiently to my obsessive worries and giving me wise tips on how to get by through my hospitalization and at-home convalescence. And who better? He's been in and out of hospitals a great deal over the last few years and spent weeks and weeks at home recovery.

His advice:

• Push myself. If, post-op, I can walk at all, I should.

• Stand up for myself. Don't let the insurance company "rush" me out of the hospital early. Play the "I live alone" card if need be.

• Don't rely on the pain meds too much.

• Tell Kathy. She's our mutual friend and I have been avoiding that conversation. I love Kathy but she can be sooooo difficult, especially when it comes to medical matters. I don't want to hear how, by having a hysterectomy, I'm a puppet of the male medical establishment, or that things like this don't happen to her because she is positive and won't allow them to. I just can't bear it right now. On the other hand, she does care about me and he's right, those feelings should be honored. She'd be so hurt if this all happened and I didn't tell her. And, besides, not telling her would put John in the middle. He doesn't deserve that. So I'll shoot Kathy an email next week.

John is a good friend. A faithful friend. I am lucky to have him.

Looking HARD for the pony!

One of the lights on my bathroom medicine chest just blew. I changed the bulb but it turns out the problem is in the fixture. AARGH! It's Labor Day weekend, it's not like I can find someone to come over and fix it for me. And, since I only have a grueling two-day workweek left before I go off on my medical adventure, it's not like I can take time off and wait for the handyman.

So I choose to look at it this way: I'll make do with one light in the bathroom until I'm feeling better, and then, during my convalescence when I can't go anywhere anyway, I'll schedule the handyman to come over.

He can replace the flapper thing in my toilet, too! I'll put together a list of handyman chores that can be accomplished when I'm laid up!

Do I sound positive? It's a victory of will over spirit, because finding ANOTHER thing leaves me feeling just plain shitty. (Oh, didn't I tell you? I'm trying to kill the drain flies in the kitchen, too.)

Me and Miche -- A love story

This one is for Kwizgiver.

I love my new purse. It's a Miche bag. A black base, or lining, that can be dropped into various "shells."

The size is perfect. The color of my first shell (right) is perfect. And when I switch to the second shell (which hasn't arrived yet), I won't ever wonder which bag I left my phone in.

One thing I plan to do during my convalescence is go through my handbag collection and decide what to part with. Miche will make that easier.

August Happiness Challenge -- Day 30

The right words at the right time. I received this email today from my aunt/Godmother. I'm going to print it out and take it to the hospital with me:

Well, let's try to think of some positives in this whole experience you have coming up---

1. You will, indeed, lose weight, and I know you've been wanting to.

2. You will have some quality time with your Mom.

3.Your cats will love having you home. (Hey, what's that scamp Reynaldo been up to?)

4. It may take a bit of time, but you are going to get some things resolved and actually feel better.

5. You'll be able to read a book all the way through without stopping if you want to.

6. You can eat anything you feel like for a while.

7. You can watch some silly movies like "Hot Tub Time Machine" and and not feel guilty.

I know you are scared, and I do not blame you. you can obsess all you want. If good wishes and prayers can make it all better, you are home free- 'cause you've got them, Sweetie.

All of life, in one day

Today, I …

• Noticed how beautiful the sky was. The green of the Millennium Park trees looked so pretty against the clean, pale blue.

• Wrestled with a difficult project, but I think I conquered it

• Followed up with Cigna about my short term disability claim

• Was mad at my shrink for not submitting my bill to the insurance company yet, as I asked her to weeks ago

• Then got home to receive a message that she won't be seeing any patients at all until October 1, "family emergency." I think it's related to her husband's cancer. Now I feel guilty.

• Joked with Kathleen about my stapler cyst.

• Admitted I was afraid about my upcoming surgery to one of the (very nice) higher ups who came by my office to say he'd heard I was going to be out for a while, that I'd be missed, and (while he didn't want to pry) he hopes I'll come back healthier than before.

• Apologized to my mom for being so weird.

• Listened to my oldest friend complain about her selfish former in-laws and entitled son.

• Worried about money.

• Played with the new purse I bought.

I feel like at one point or another today, I felt just about every emotion. Happy, sad, guilty, cheap, wicked …

August Happiness Challenge -- Day 30

What Not to Wear. I saw my first episode of the new season! I like how the cameras drop in on the episode's subject a few weeks after the "big reveal." It's good to see if the new clothes, make up and especially hair are easy to keep up.

I'm soooo not good at this

I'm coming unglued, waiting for surgery. I really am.

Yesterday my oldest friend called to tell me she's NOT coming in to hold my hand. This is not a surprise. I just wish we hadn't have done this dance. It tired me, trying not to hurt her feelings while still surreptitiously working on Plan B: My Mommy. She's been very patient with me.

Then I read a letter from my insurance agency. I'm pre-authorized for Friday and Saturday nights in the hospital. Yea! Except for one thing -- Kathleen is on deck to drive me home from the hospital on Monday. That's what my doctor told me: 3 nights in the hospital. Kathleen is leaving town with her family on Saturday morning and won't be back until Sunday night. So I have no ride.

I spoke to my doctor's assistant and she told me not to worry about it. Insurance companies do what they do. She will see to it that if I need that third night -- and she's confident I will -- that I will get it. She reiterated that my huge stapler cyst, while creepy to the max, is most likely not malignant and that if the lining of my uterus is, we're catching it early. Okay.

Then there's my cough. See post below. I. Can't. Help. It! But because it's so disruptive, it's also top of mind. So when the lab called, saying they wanted to discuss my chest x-ray, I freaked out. I can't have this surgery rescheduled! I can''t! My x-ray is clear and normal.

I feel like I'm pulled as tight as a piano wire. I wish this waiting was done so I can look back on this surgery and say, "It wasn't so bad ..."

I. Can't. Help. It!

I have a bad cough. A hacking, horrible cough. I sound like a barking seal. I know! I know! You think I don't hear it? You think it's not hurting my throat? You think I don't miss breathing comfortably?

I don't have a fever. My chest x-ray came back clear. I cover my mouth with a tissue (a disposable tissue -- better than a sleeve). I only have four more work days until I take a month off -- I can't just stay home.

I. Can't. Help. It!

Today, while sitting in my office, I was visited by someone who had sat in on a conference call in the next office. "Are you OK? Do you need help? The client could hear you and asked what the noise was!"

I was mortified.

And if we lose an account because of my cough, I sincerely apologize.

Girl Power

I have been watching Gone with the Wind when I can't sleep. I know it's considered an epic and a love story. But to me, it's a portrait of two very different kinds of great women.

Scarlett is tough and shrewd. Yes, she's selfish and spirited. But she faces her problems head-on and deals with them. It was Scarlett who defied the odds and managed to keep a roof over the head of her family and food on their table. If you have only seen the movie, her fixation with Ashley might confuse you. So pick up the book. As Margaret Mitchell describes him, he's more Robert Redford than Prince Charles.

Melanie isn't as tough or willful but she is strong. Her strength comes from decency and faith and a good heart. She knows Ashley better than he knows himself, understands him and loves him anyway. Likewise Scarlett. Melanie's not the deluded fool, she's just wise and chooses to see the good. When times are tough, she's the one -- never Ashley -- who is at Scarlett's side, making sure they prevail.

Part of why I think Rhett rocks is that he sees both of these women -- and Mammy and Belle Watling, too -- so clearly and appreciates each one's uniqueness and good qualities. I can see him living comfortably in the new millennium. But not even Rhett is as powerful as Melanie and Scarlett. Nothing keeps Scarlett down for long, and the only thing that can stop Melanie is death.

(I'd like to be more like Melanie, but in reality I've got a lot of Scarlett in me. I have a very bad temper and a stubborn, unrealistic view of relationships.)

August Happiness Challenge -- Day 29

$3.99 on sale! Feline Pine, that is. My cat, Charlotte, is very loving and devoted to me and tries to be a good influence on wildcat, Reynaldo (alternately chastening him with a stiff paw to the cheek or affectionately tending to his ears and eyes, as the situation requires). But she hates my big old tomcat, Joey. She just does. Every day he tries to be her friend, every day she screams at him like a banshee and pounds on him. Never mind that she's a fraction of his size. Never mind that he lived here first. He simply offends her.

To the point that he's not allowed to ... um ... defecate in her box. I don't know how she enforces this, but she somehow she does. Joey is so much larger than she is that I can tell where he goes, and it's always in the other box, the one I refer to as "The Men's Room."

The Ladies' Room uses grainy scoopable litter and The Men's Room is filled with Feline Pine pellets. The difference in texture and scent make it easier for Joey to differentiate the boxes. Joey, a gentle giant with many sterling qualities, has never been the sharpest knife in the drawer and I'm afraid that if ever I switch brands in his box, it could lead to confusion and chaos.

I have boxes and jugs of scoopable litter stockpiled, but I forgot about Feline Pine. My convalescence could become very odoriferous and unpleasant without an extra sack of Joey's litter. So in an otherwise rather shitty day (no pun intended), Feline Pine on sale at Dominick's was the highlight.

"Hello, my name is Peggy."

This was me attempting to report my short-term disability claim to Cigna. Normally when I deal with them, everything goes smoothly. Today ... not so much. The rep didn't speak fluent English and we ended up just frustrating each other. (My favorite part: when she asked me if I have ever been treated by any doctor for anything before. She can't possibly have meant that question.) Here's hoping nothing was lost in translation.

August Happiness Challenge -- Day 28

Movies! Not only the one I saw at the theater (see below) but look what I found on Comcast On Demand. The ultimate escape!

Movies are such a reliable, cheap high.

Thank you, Ryan Gosling

I have been obsessing about my upcoming surgery. I know that accomplishes nothing and I try not to do it, and yet ... Look, I'm about to be gutted like a fish in order to find out if I have cancer. It IS kind of a big deal!

So today I did what I always do when the going gets tough: I go to the movies. This afternoon it was Crazy, Stupid Love. It's a very funny, completely charming movie starring Steve Carrell. But the revelation in it was Ryan Gosling.

Last time I saw him was in Blue Valentine, where he played a loving but balding, underachieving pot-smoker/house painter. Jacob in Crazy, Stupid Love could not be more different. He's slick and snarky and funny ("the skin under your eyes is starting look like Hugh Hefner's ball sack") and oh, my!

It's a movie-stealing performance. I found myself waiting for him to reappear. And his Jacob made me forget about my compromised innards for a while.

Sunday Stealing

Sunday Stealing: The August 20 Question Meme

Cheers to all of us thieves!

1. What's for breakfast? Cheerios.

2. Do you read a newspaper daily? Monday through Friday. I read it each morning on the train to work.

3. What do you do when you can't sleep? Read one of the books or magazines near my bed for just that purpose.

4. Say a word that sums up your mood. Impatient!

5. Do you remember your dreams? Just the really wacky ones. Like the one where Burt Reynolds tries to intimidate me before I can testify against his son.

6. Name something from your dream last night. I can't recall last night's dream. Had to do with Hurricane Irene. I don't recall the specifics -- meaning Burt Reynolds must not have been harassing me.

7. Name a food that describes you. Eggs. I am a woman of many moods -- ranging from over easy to scrambled.

8. Today you are wearing: Shorts and a t-shirt.

9. What's in your pockets? Lip balm, a tissue and some change.

10. Did you sing in the shower today? Oh, God. I did. I sang along with Captain and Tenille on shower radio. "Do that to me one more time/once is never enough/with a man like you ..." I can't remember where I left my keys, but I have retained all these lyrics. Oh well, at least it wasn't "Muskrat Love."



11. What's the last song you heard? "Sweet Nothings" by Brenda Lee. It's on the soundtrack of An Education.

12. Looking forward to the holidays? Yes. I'm looking forward to seeing my friends in Key West.

13. Where do you want to be this instant? One month in the future! I want to be looking back on my upcoming surgery, instead of fearing it.

14. What's for lunch? There's some ham in the refrigerator ...

15. What's something you would like to do soon? Hug my best friend. I miss him something awful.

16. Reading anything now? What is it? Mini Shopaholic. Becky Brandon (nee Bloomwood) is Lucy Riccardo for the new millennium.

17. What's for dinner? That feels like a lifetime away!

18. A favorite part of the day is: Early evening as the sun goes down

19. Are you happy? Usually I'm happy. But at this particular juncture, no. I don't feel well.

20. Guess how many people will do Sunday Stealing this weekend? 41

Well, that's done

I didn't do much today because I'm feeling a little depleted emotionally. I went in for my pre-op chest x-ray and bloodwork. Then I stopped at the pharmacy for the pre-op bowel prep. Ew. Ick. I have an annoying cough. And I'm still as sluggish as I felt when this adventure started.

I want it to be a month from now so I can look back on all my fear and trepidation and say, "Now weren't you just being silly? Surgery wasn't so bad!"

JFK vs. Prince Charles

I'm watching a documentary on Princess Diana, and as always, I miss her. It would have been nice to see how that kindergarten teacher-turned-icon would have evolved in middle age. It would have been wonderful to see her touch more lives with her charity work.

I also think about how she compares with my all-time idol, JBKO. After all, their lives had more than a few similarities -- enjoying the adoration of the world yet deprived the fidelity of their husbands, tormented by the paparazzi, admired for both their fashion sense and their devotion to their children.

But one big difference between them was in their husbands. Prince Charles pined for Camilla Parker-Bowles, even as he was married to Diana. JFK had serial affairs but they were compulsive and carnal and he didn't understand why these "meaningless" flings bothered his wife so damn much. (Mad Men, anyone?) While each man's deplorable behavior had a devastating effect on his wife, it's easy to see how Jackie could comfort herself by believing she was her husband's one true love. Diana was deprived that solace.

Prince Charles was perplexed and annoyed by Diana's fame and impact on the public. After all, HE was the born royal, HE was the future monarch. JFK was too smart and confident to look at his life that way. He was proud of Jackie's star power and knew how to use it to his advantage. For example, their "triumphant" state trip to Europe was really Jackie's triumph. She was the one who created an international sensation. President Kennedy was embarrassed by his meeting with Krushchev and got nothing from DeGaulle, yet he basked in laughs and applause upon their return to the United States by announcing, "Perhaps I should introduce myself: I am the man who accompanied Jacqueline Kennedy to Paris. And I enjoyed it."