Well, I can tell you that her talent doesn’t come from her formal education. She dropped out of that as soon as she could, so she didn’t have many people telling her what she couldn’t do or say, and trying to squeeze her onto some shape she couldn’t fit in, which she wouldn’t have done anyway — but her going her own way saved everyone a lot of hassle. But she was a voracious reader, and a discerning one. And she was always happily juiced up. She would have been outrageous if she weren’t so good natured. That’s what gets her through the tough ones like this. She’s a lot like her mother, come to think of it. As one of my sons said, “I’m not sure I could even be a fraction of that upbeat, but that’s her and I’m me.”

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Saturday, August 8, 2015

It just never fails. The minute the plumbers show up, I am overcome by roaring attacks of flatulence that will not be denied.It is completely involuntary, and clench what muscle I may, any movement at all will release a noise so loud there's not even any point in pretending it didn't happen. The poor plumbers' assistants look as though a chandelier has fallen from the ceiling, and I feel as though my cover as La Patrona is kind of tarnished. I'm Melanie Wilkes, blowing her own hoop skirt up at a tea for Scarlett.
    I must carry on, with my chin held high. I have spent nearly twenty years with Bruno trying to create the illusion that this never happens at all, and now I am reduced to blowing air pockets into my pajama pants in front of the work crew. And woe betide us all when I think I'm alone in the room! I will make a sound like the Queen Mary saluting the Statue of Liberty with a couple of deafening blasts and when I turn around, there again is the plumbers' assistant, looking thunderstruck.

So. Let's move on, shall we? This is not the only indelicacy that somehow has become my new normal. Cancer and it's treatment is gross, and that's that.

   I was so sad when I wrote my last post. Many of you could tell and wrote to me, and I thank you.That feeling of going down for the third time has passed. It always does, and I know that.
   So what happened? I dunno. You tell me. The Big Giant Something got a hold of me before I went down for the fourth time, and I realized that night in bed that I was back.

Of course. It always passes. Always.

 I knew it would pass because I'm fifty seven, and I've been through some shit. I knew it would pass because my sister and my step daughter, who are my Spirit Guides, kept telling me so, although there were many times when it was only because my sister and my step daughter,(the unlikeliest Spirit Guide in the world, by the way, with her Fendi and glossy hair),  kept telling me so. That's the bottom of the cycle, when all you've got is knowing that it will get better, and hopefully someone to tell you so, but you can't remember that it's ever been any different, and you can't believe that it's ever going to change. Horrible. Hurts.

And passes.

And then there's this plumbing thing that's happening. Really? Plumbing problems, now?
This is what happened practically the minute that I published that post, from the depths of that well where I knew only God was going to be able to save me. The plumbers came. It doesn't matter why, but I'm ridiculously panicky about things having to do with home repair.They did their job, and then came to me and reported that they suspected a leak, either under the floor or in the walls. Excavation would be required. This would be a CSI operation, since they had no idea where to look. This was not exactly what I was expecting from God. Hmm. Mysterious ways and whatnot.

In the state I was in, I felt...nothing. No, what happened was, a clear image of a tree branch presented itself in my mind, and then snapped itself in two. I could not absorb the tearing up of tile floors until a leak was found. And what then? Putting the tile back? Putting back the concrete walls? No. Broken branch. I had been crying buckets all week, sobbing when the breeze blew, and that just dried it up. For a little while. It made me feel so scared, which my therapist, Valerie Rhoda, explained was me feeling like the cancer had spread to the house. Yes, possibly. I was thinking it might be about costing money we couldn't possibly have to undertake an operation like that, but mostly it, it just sounded ...impossible.

   But you know what? When Bruno got home, he didn't throw his hands in the air and say " Oh, Lawd!" When a new cast of plumbers came to look, none of them looked at each other and cried "Oh, no,what shall we do!?" In fact, nobody that knew anything, which does NOT include me, freaked out at all. Below you will see pictures of all my worst nightmares coming true. Thank you, God. Hilarious.
Is it here? No!
How about here? No!

CSI Detective Brad Grieve using sonar so the house didn't have
to be completely torn up.It ended up being maybe 5 locations they
had to excavate before they found the leak.
Pretty cool.

Somehow, it was during this chaos that I got tossed back up on the beach from the ocean of black depression that I thought might just drown me. Hate my life? That's crazy talk! I love my life, and want it and wish some things were different. I'll try my best to make them different, to get to the finish line even if I am stumbling. I am already being held up by my friends--you know how they do as you get closer and start really falling down-- my friends and my husband and my spirit guides hold me up and make sure I don't fall apart or fall down with the finish line in sight.
I went from feeling despair to living my life, feeling normal, having my house torn up, getting chemo on Monday. What happened? Like I said, you tell me.

Mind you, the dial has only swung to the middle, not all the way to the other side.
I mean,I'm going to chemotherapy on Monday, and I haven't done laundry in eight days because my house is torn up from end to end .I think my posse would be a little alarmed if I was feeling joyful about it.
No, I am right in the middle. I will spend a lot of days just boringly being me.
This entails;
   Wishing I was better at meditating. wishing I was motivated  to attend free online College courses instead of watching Judge Judy. Wishing I would study Spanish. Thinking I need to start exercising.
   I will wish I had that elusive gene, the Pinterest gene, that makes it impossible for some people to sit in their house if it's not spic 'n span, I will spend hours on Pinterest. I will be grateful and delighted that I'm out of the abyss, There's going to be a lot of gratitude involved.I will dream about the day that I  feel that charge of electricity that comes with joy. At Christmas, maybe, or on a beach vacation with my family. Oh, I know it's there.
It's not far now.


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