clickmom

completely hate

I used to get migraines. I got so good at sensing and treating (any OTC pain killer will do-but only at the first hint of nausea) the early stages of a migraine that I haven't had a full fledged one since Josh was small enough to lie on my chest during the entire episode. Until this month. Now I have had two episodes, and they were pretty routine as far as my own personal migraine history goes with one exception. In the old days I would have two episodes of vomiting followed by utter complete relief.  The two episodes that hit me this month ended in two episodes of vomiting followed by feeling as if I was still dying, despite the absence of head pain, with relief finally arriving about 10-12 hours after the vomiting. I had one lingering effect from the whole thing- pain in my liver area. Real aching sore pain. I thought maybe this all had something to do with the violent gall bladder surgery I had 4 years ago. Now, I am no fool. I know that if I were to go to any typical doctor or specialist and tell them about this they'd write a prescription for some migraine drug and shoo me out of the office, which is not what I am looking for. I want to eliminate the reason I am getting these migraines.

So I crawled into the old chiro's office the day after the last episode and told him what had happened. He did his AK voodoo diagnostic magic and told me I had a toxic liver. I know why too. It's because I am so angry at the universe for putting me in this grief stricken life. After diagnosing me chiro did his voodoo curing magic and by that evening I felt fantastic. Yesterday I felt fantastic and I started doing that cleanse I did last spring. Cleansing can't be a bad thing, I mean, can it?  If I have any hope of wearing clothes I already own this summer I have got to take off a chunk of weight. So, cleansing and weight loss means a win win for all the effects of cleansing. Today I woke up with the beginnings of the headache again. I just hoisted the surrender flag and popped some pain killers. I am fearing another migraine type episode.

When I'm inside of a migraine it's so bad I start thinking I might not survive. I start telling telling myself things like, Well, you did the best you could, so what if you don't make it to that good part of life where you're free from responsibility and can think only about yourself every day. You were a great mom, mission accomplished. Yup, this is my pre death by migraine calming talk to myself. I don't want to have to have that reassuring death chat with myself until I need it for real. These false alarms are annoying as hell.

In the mean time I haven't written anything or photographed anything or even sat down to edit photographs in weeks. I'm still kind of in shock over the loss of my BIL. Honestly, I think it would take me more than 5 weeks to accept the cancer diagnosis let alone go through every step including death in 5 weeks.  Just shocking and so tragic. I'm fine, just sad. Sad does not feed my creativity. I do think that if I could just crawl into a nice comfy hole I would emerge within some reasonable amount of time feeling spiritually healed and be able to move forward sooner. But, such is not my life. My life is getting up every day and figuring out what food to buy so I can feed everyone with the least amount of complaining. Also, dishes, which I completely hate doing.

come on

During the last 4 days, when we knew my BIL was dying we were driving back and forth to be in the house with him and his wife. It as really a strange ritual, as there was nothing we could actually do to comfort him, or really to help her out much. I told him that I loved him, and that we would take care of his wife, she was family and that wasn't going to change. I told him he was a fighter, and had been fighting for as long as I knew him but it was ok if he wanted to stop fighting now. And then I told him I loved him some more. I told him I was sorry he was suffering and that I'd miss him. 

One day on the way home we stopped into a deli that the BIL loved (we would bring him sandwiches from that deli when he was hospitalized) and we sat down for something to eat. Unfortunately, there was some kind of large business group (which was strange because I am almost positive it was on Sunday) there and they were loud and obnoxious.  Especially one guy. You know how there is always that one guy who is so loud the whole restaurant can hear him and then wonder how long until the women in his group actually file a claim against him for sexual harassment? One of the less than appropriate tid bits I had the non pleasure of overhearing was the guy practically shouting to the three women sitting directly across from him Nothing says I love you to my wife like a vasectomy on Valentine's Day! Make that appointment!

OH MY GAWD.

No one laughed and the uncomfortable vibe in the air was as thick as the thousand island dressing, which I originally suspected might be frozen when it wouldn't come out of the little plastic cup as I shook it in the air over my chopped salad.

Sometimes I just hate everyone and this guy made it easy to be a hater that day. I do not want to know who has had a vasectomy, EVER unless it directly affects me, and obviously, no vasectomy on the face of the earth affects me. Such yuck. I should have tapped his shoulder and just dove into a description of my post natural childbirth hemorrhoid situation. I had the inside seat in a booth and I couldn't get out gracefully, besides, I was furiously trying to chew through my thousand island dressing when that golden nugget was broadcast for all to hear. I just jotted it down on a napkin and stuck it in my pocket instead of confronting Mr. RudeAndInconsiderate. 

Speaking of being a hater, I was sharing stories of people who are easy to hate with one of my favorite trader joe's employees today. People are so rude to her. Which makes me angry because this woman is incredible, she has the potential to be the kind of person to really make a difference in the world (about to go for her second master's degree- really, just like me!) and apparently folks get hostile when she doesn't dish out the free samples fast enough. HOSTILE. Over free samples. Good lord.

Speaking of my favorite TJ employee, Did I ever tell you how I went in there after hearing the BIL had cancer and she saw me looking like I had been crying (I had) and she ran and gave me a little bouquet off flowers and it totally made my day so much better? I think I did. It was about a month ago. Anyway, I saw her hysterical in the parking lot on Tuesday, so I tossed my groceries in the car and ran over to her with a box of tissues, and she was crying on the phone over a family crisis. I tried to comfort her and I said It will all turn out ok. You know it will be okay. And I felt a bit bad about saying that because I didn't know if it would be okay. Today she told me that her sister bought a winning lottery ticket and won a little bit of money and could fix everything that was making her cry. I was so happy that her troubles were over and also that I didn't lie to her. Then another woman joined our conversation and said she had won a BINGO jackpot at her church game, and another woman came over and said her husband had won $200K on the lottery! AND then a guy came over and told us how he goes to the casino to play black jack and has an uncanny ability to win. I made them all rub my arm for good luck and went off and bought a lottery ticket. True story. If I win.....

Pretty much I make myself happy these days about fantasizing about winning the lottery. I am going to use that money to make such good change if I win big! I will be a very charitable winner. I promise that. Come on big money! 

I loved you

My BIL died yesterday.  Every death is sad and many are tragic but this one really hit high scores on the tragedy/sadness scale.  Recall, he got a heart transplant almost three years ago. And he was one of the people that get the heart transplant at the very last moment when it looked like he wasn't going to make it. He had been sick for what seemed like forever. Last spring he was finally feeling well enough to get a dog. My BIL loved dogs. He used to dog sit our dog when our dog was the best dog ever and we went on vacation. When we would come back a week later he would have more photos of our dog than we would have of our vacation! He was so cute like that. He finally talked his wife into getting a dog and he was finally getting healthy enough to go for some real hikes with the dog when things started falling apart for him. First he thought all the pain was coming from his hip and he had a hip replacement in December.  Then he got worse and worse until the cancer diagnosis last month.  I think it was five weeks from diagnosis to death. 

I'm so sad for him that he never got to experience good health and be carefree. He never got to travel in good health. He never got to be really happy or not be in pain. There are so many nevers. I was really rooting for him to at least have some period where I could turn to someone else who knew him when he was so devastatingly ill and say "Isn't great that he's enjoying life?!" I really wanted that for him. It's just so freaking sad. 

But, no secret here, cancer fucking sucks, and dying of cancer sucks and he was in enormous pain, so I'm glad he didn't suffer any more than he did. He had enough physical suffering in his one life for a whole crowd of people. 

It's just sad, and one of those lives that make you wonder about fairness and how there doesn't seem to be much fairness. Life wasn't fair to him and he could not catch a break. I wish it had been different for him. I really saw this adorable vulnerable guy beneath his tough guy gruff exterior. I was hoping that life would let up on him long enough for him to let that adorable pussy cat of a man out for everyone to enjoy. But, not this life. This life did not let up on him. 

I hope he's somewhere doing cart wheels and feeling excellent. I hope he's dancing and happy and whole.

I loved you Max.  I'll miss you.

34,533

I couldn't write anything in my novel for a week after the memorial. 

I told myself I had to give it a try this weekend and I forced myself to start tapping away again on Friday. I'm over 35,000 words (totally unedited-first draft) and happy with what I got down this weekend. Somehow writing seems frivolous right now. It just seems so unimportant in the bigger scheme of things, but I am forcing myself to continue because for me this has become a sort of life line, something to hold onto, a goal for the future, a plan, a way of possibly supporting myself, and empowering myself and taking care of myself.

A friend said "Wouldn't be great if your novel took off? Went viral?" I said That's my goal.

Ratter

 I was trying to take a photo of sweet pea this morning while she was doing this thing she does in the snow. She plunges her head in the snow sniffs around beneath the surface and then with her head out of the hole just after I snapped this photo sweet pea brushed some snow away from next to a fallen tree  A mouse was squeaking wildly and I screamed like a baby on fire. It's scared sweet pea so much that she just stared at me and then I realized the two other people walking their dogs in the woods probably thought I was being murdered so I called to sweet pea in a cheerful voice and quickly walked away from the terrified little mouse 

I started writing my novel again last night and I am closing in on 30,000 words. I'm pretty happy about the progress I've made.

mind set

So, there have been about 40 different art exhibits in 40 different states all under this umbrella of Nasty Women (what trump called Clinton during a debate) group.  When I tell people that I am participating it is kind of surprising to me how many people do not get the nasty woman reference. This nation has a short memory span!!

Anyway, I put some photos in the Connecticut show and went to the opening reception last night.  It was unbelievable.  The inside of the gallery was completely mobbed, you had to rub against people to move through the gallery and outside there was a line down the block to get in!  Pretty fabulous. On a personal level I loved being surrounded by people who have the same concerns as I do.

Much of the art was very angry and straightforward, there was a great deal of printed word on the art, things like RESIST, there were vaginas everywhere, there were some other pretty graphic pieces, and sprinkled in-between these artworks were the more implied, less literal pieces, like mine, which viewed as a group (I put up four images in a grid) speak about intimacy and also solitude.  I chose 4 images of trees which grow intertwined with other trees almost as if they are lovers, or protectors, or even parent trees.  Anyway, rumor has it there is a collector who is interested in three of the images.  I'm not getting worked up until I know for sure.  I pledged 1/3 of my asking price to planned parenthood, so was hoping that there would be interest.  In the case of photos, I can make multiples, (thinking about a limited edition of 10 of each print) so I could make a bigger donation than an artist selling a one of a kind piece could.

The BIL starts chemo on Monday. I'm worried about him, emotionally and physically. If you ever knew anyone on chemo I don't have to explain it to you.  If you haven't known anyone on chemo, let's just say it's like taking just enough poison not to kill you 100%. I hope my BIL is strong enough. 

I still haven't been working on my book, but I am going to do some writing today.  After dinner seems to be a good time for me to write.  Since it was a snow day today (the best kind where we got 5 inches but it all melted on the driveway so there is nothing on the driveway!) I theoretically had all day to write but I ended up binge watching a ridiculous amount of netflix.  I forgive myself.  A girl has to do what a girl has to do. I might go outside and enjoy the snow with sweet pea soon. I'll probably bring my camera too, even though I really hate the snow. Then I'll make an early dinner so I can have a nice long stretch of after dinner writing.  My goal for the day is 2,000 words.  I can usually put that much down if I really set my mind to it. Gotta get the mind set going on.

dying isn't optional

I'm telling myself to force myself to write but I am just not feeling it at all.  You have to really be living the moment to write about people who are slightly off doing unusual things.  I just feel bleh. After my mom died I binge watched 5 or 6 seasons of a TV show to get through the summer.  I feel like doing that now.  I just want something to take me away from all the sadness swimming around in my head. 

My BIL is going to take chemo in an attempt to get some more time on this earth. My stance on the whole thing is that this is his ride and I am here for support, so I would never ever try to influence his decision or even offer an unsolicited opinion but in all honesty I'm pretty conflicted about the whole chemo thing.  I feel like every time something is offered as an alternative to dying what the doctors really mean is that you're dying anyway. It was like that with my father in law, they said we could amputate his leg or let him die of gangrene, we amputated because we were hopeful he would be around another year or maybe even two and he died weeks later anyway. They said amputate my 96 year old grandmother's toe or let her die of the bone infection, my mom and uncle chose amputation and she ended up with MRSA. She had a miserable 6 months . My mom was told at Sloan Kettering that she should not treat and just enjoy the time she had left, they estimated 18 months, she opted to treat with someone else, endured surgeries, and chemo, kidney failure, heart failure, and multiple hospitalizations due to the chemo and died a year later.  This tremendous suffering happened when the doctors said there was a choice between treating and just letting illness take it's course.  I think that if I were in that position, and they weren't guaranteeing me some substantial amount of bonus time I would not treat. I really think that if dying is one of the options they present to you as an actual option or alternative to treatment ..... it is code for nothing really is going to help out here anyway. I just don't want to suffer when my time is here. Hopefully not soon.  I have things to do.

gotta write

I haven't written a thing for my novel in a bit.  Going to the memorial service for such a young person has really thrown me.  My heart breaks for the family and all that they are going through. I know I can't even imagine their pain and yet here I am, crying for them every day. It's made it hard to find motivation.

I was looking through some tabs I had open in my browser and I happened upon one of the 40 or so Nasty Women art exhibits.  I signed on. I spent the entire day first servicing my printer (head clog) then printing some images, then disassembling some old work from their picture frames (almost embarrassing to look at old stuff these days) and framing and reassembling and then wrapping and packing the work.  Then I got together everything I would need to hang my work, level, measuring tape, hooks, nails, hammer, pencil... and put it all in the car so tomorrow morning I can just drive off to the exhibit and hang the work. In between I did manage to make a wholesome meal for dinner too.  SO impressed, I kind of shocked myself.  I'm telling myself that I'm getting back on the horse and next step is to regain my lost momentum with the book I'm writing.

I got to meet our state representative as a person who is currently caring for someone with an Alzheimer related brain disease. The woman who was running the show told me she thought I did a great job.  Another woman there was very official and ran through all the way her husband's disease had depleted their entire savings and retirement accounts, etc... so I figured I would go another direction and try to hit an emotional chord.  It worked. I told the organizer that if she ever again needs a cryer to give me call. 

As far as the books goes, I am about 25,000 words in right now and if I can really put aside a couple of hours each day I can get about 2,000 more words written.  I'm making 10 thousand words a week my goal and hope to have this first edit of the book written by mid May.  I did some research and it seems like the average novel is 80-100 thousand words, so I am thinking anything in that range works.  I don't want to go shorter though, because I want this to be on the more substantial side.

I've been listening to music which is supposed to be so soothing that it actually owners blood pressure and stress hormones while writing. I don't know if I have any physical responses to it, but it sure does help me tune out the rest of the world and focus.

low these days

When I was little my mom used to pretend that if we made noise when she was baking anything it would fail to rise.  When I learned about soufflés, which I vaguely recall mom attempting once, I knew I had been tricked.

Just thought I would share that with you.

I'm pretty sure me and lil sis were on the rowdy side. I'd love to go back as a fly on the wall and see what we were like. If I did get to go back, I'd bring a tiny little fly sized camera with me because there are so many things I wish I had photographed. 

Whatever.

I've been lugging my heavy human sized camera around more than I have been photographing  with it. Inspiration is low these days. 

The hospital oncologist gave the BIL a time limit. He said 6-12 months without chemo. I'm not sure what my BIL is going to do, take the chemo or not, but I am imagining he will say he doesn't want to suffer more than he has to and I will support him. That's my job, as a family member, right? Unconditional love and support. I can do that part, the unconditional part and the support part. It's his life, his journey, and in a world where he has no control over what is happening to him, this little amount of control through making his own decision is something we all need to respect.  I have talked to the husband about it, and that was weird. The husband shows no signs of emotion.  It's freaky. He rationalized his brother's diagnosis away with some reasoning I will not repeat here.  

Please, universe, do not let my kids have this brain disease. Please universe, let my children be the whole people they were meant to be and not fade away into strangers like their father.

There has been a death which has shaken me to my core.  It's the child of one of my beloved girl friends.  I won't say who it is here out of respect for their privacy. I try to imagine what it must feel like to be in their place, saying goodbye to a child, and I cannot even bare the pain of imagining. I just don't know how the family is holding up.