Everybody sees you're blown apart

I would like to say that it's getting better, but i cannot.  Every time i reach to touch my finger, i get a little shock that my ring is not there.  I never realized that i touched it so often.


People are offering me what they can.  And i am accepting all offers of comfort.  There's no room for pride inside the shattered thing that is my heart.

In case you ever need to comfort someone in a situation like this, here are some examples of what you can offer:

My friend Eileen has come over to spend the night with me, and will be coming back over on Tuesday night.  My brother asked me to come along on his weekly Saturday walk/run with a group of friends.  My sister bought me some (pretty expensive) natural sleeping aids.  My friend Kim gave me the key to her house and has let me spend the night twice, so far.  People have e-mailed, called, IMed, texted.  One of my squash buddies brought me flowers.  Another friend sent me a sweet card.  Another friend is coming over tonight just to spend some time with me.  People leave me comforting comments.  Three people have offered me pot.  (Really!)  Today a friend offered me her leftover sleeping pills.


It's awkward for people.  Nobody really knows what to do for me, in fact, there really isn't anything anyone can do, but i accept each gift knowing that it comes from a place of caring.  (Okay, i haven't accepted the pot.  I don't know if that's a good idea, but i appreciate the thought.)


Last night i went out with one of my gay boyfriends.  He's a therapist.  He told me that i am not usually a leaner, and that it was nice to see me leaning.  He said he was happy and honored to be leaned on.  *sniff*


The one person who i must stop leaning on so much is Em.  She has her own life.  I just get into a panic, and the only way i know to stop it is to contact her.  It's like i need to touch what is left of my family, and i need to do it now.  But for her, this isn't as shattering as it is for me.  She's not here, and so she doesn't see any immediate change in her life, and it wasn't her husband.

I don't even know where he is.  I've been looking after him so long that i don't know how to stop.


I look back and i keep going over and over the lies in my mind.  I try to stop and then there they are again.


I hurt.


Then, brief moments of okay.

You guys, and more shit

Really, you guys are great.  I mean it.  Your comments and support are like little pearls of moisture that i clutch to my chest in the midst of this desert landscape i find myself in.

I am having my friends take turns babysitting me.  Sometimes i am alone here too, and it is scary and makes my heart pound and my bowels loosen.  I can't eat, although i am forcing myself to do a bit of it, because i know i should.


I am still in shock.


My sweet baby girl, who is going through her own shock, is a lifeline for me.  I am trying not to lean too hard on her, but she is really the only one who can partially understand how i feel and what i see.  I hope i am as much comfort to her as she is to me, but i doubt it.

I went to my first therapy appointment yesterday.  (i don't let grass grow under my feet!) It was with the woman half of the couple that The Mister and i used to see as a couple.  (Should i ask for my money back? :)  )


I asked her for a reality check on my knowledge of The Mister, and she agreed with what i know about him.  It helps to have a pair of trained eyes, to know that my observations are not completely cocked up.  It makes no difference to the outcome of this, but it still helps to know that i am not insane.

Hanging on......


love you.

pain/bitterness

I'm looking back over the last few months, and i am seeing the lies.

It is so incredibly painful that i can barely stand it from minute to minute.

I am leaning heavily on my friends and family, and they are coming through like champs.  Thank god for friends.

Lying to someone who trusts you is the act of a coward.  It protects you (The Mister) in the moment, and damages the person (me) who was lied to forever.

Or should i call him the soon-to-be-ex Mister.

I have no fucking idea how i'm going to live through this.

Even though i know i will, eventually.

The oldest story in the world

Well,  It's about to get interesting around here.  Hang on if you like for the bumpy ride.  Or not.

The Mister left me this morning.  He's seeing someone else.

You will be glad to know that i behaved with dignity.  I told him good luck. 

Nothing is worked out, and it's going to be an unholy mess to disentangle our lives after more than 30 years.

I am numb right now.  I am not looking forward to dealing with the pain and the loneliness.  But i realize that i cannot avoid it.

I called my brother right away, and he, being the awesome brother that he is, came over and went to the doctor with me, to get some sleeping aid and some anti-anxiety meds.

I may spend the night at his house, but in all honesty, i don't know what to do with myself right now.

Not funny

Other than The Mister, no one has ever accused me of not having a sense of humor.

We are in Hawaii right now, on vacation.  We were awakened last night at 12:30am with a tsunami warning which, for us, really amounted to nothing more than losing a few hours of sleep, although the people on the 1st and 2nd floors of the resort were evacuated to higher floors. (And amusingly, told to bring their pillows with them.)

I knew this was going to happen, but today, whilst strolling the tacky shops in Lahaina, i saw the inevitable  "I Survived the Maui Tsunami; 3-11-11" t-shirt, less than 12 hours after the waves dribbled into Hawaii, and only a few hours longer after the waves slammed into Japan.

I winced when i saw it.  As Em says, "It's only funny if no one died."

I hope they don't sell any, but i know better.

Sunday Bloody Sunday

I am SO sick of being a female right now.  I never know what's going to happen.  It's like playing Russian Roulette where the gun is my uterus and the target is my underpants.

Oh, and Happy New Year, a little late.

Things are slowly returning to normal after a big upset, about which i cannot tell you.  But the gist is, it's time for me to grow up.  I am having some success with that actually.  But it's interesting how long i clung to a behavior that wasn't really working to make me happy.  Us humans do not like change.

Peace y'all. Miss you.  Really, i do.

Not suitable for F@cebook

There should be a name for the art of conveying contempt in a manner subtle enough to maintain plausible deniability.

Sometimes i sits and thinks...

Me! I signed my cynical self up and took a meditation class a few nights ago.  And i shall return and take a few more.

I'm not sure if it was epic or not.  Actally, that's not true, i am sure that it was not epic. But i am committed to sticking with it for a while and getting out of it that which i can get out of it.

Yeah, there was a bit too much "trying to feel the love and light in my heart" stuff.  I can't really feel the love in my heart behind all the fear.  But maybe that right there tells you that i need to go.

Perhaps it's really just a good excuse to sit still for an hour without the distractions of home.  (I really should put those dishes in the dishwasher and then move the laundry along, you know, that sort of thing.)

I tried doing it the next day at home, but there was a cat who insisted that he must sit on my lap.  I don't think that meditating with a cat on my lap is a bad thing, but it was distracting.

I did come home feeling relaxed.  Which lasted for all of 20 minutes, but it's a start.

Do you have a "Meno's Blog" discount membership card yet?

I get the idea of cross-selling, and i know that people in service industry jobs are required to do it, so i don't mind patiently saying "No thank you." several times during any sales transaction, but it seems to be getting totally out of hand.

I was at Barnes and Noble the other day, buying a birthday card for my dad.  Here's how it went:

Clerk: Will you be saving 10% with your Barnes and Noble member card today?
Me: No.
Clerk: Would you like to get a Barnes and Noble member card today?
Me: No thank you.
Clerk: Do you need a Barnes and Noble gift card to go with this card?
Me: No thank you.
Clerk: So you already have a gift then?
Me: (now i'm annoyed because really, is this any of her fucking business?) No, i don't like my dad enough to buy him a gift.
Clerk: (a little startled) Oh.

And at a restaurant two days ago:

Waitron: Can i get you anything to drink?
The Mister: Yes, a glass of Whatever Brand wine please.
Me: A glass of water please.
Waitron: No wine for you?
Me: No thank you.
Waitron: Are you sure? 
Me: Yes.
Waitron: But it's Happy Hour! The wine is half off.
Me: No thank you, i'd just like some water.
Waitron: (sadly) Okaaaay then, i'll leave the menu here in case you change your mind.
Me: (under my breath to The Mister) I wouldn't change my mind now if this was the last glass of wine on earth.
...a few minutes later, as she was delivering The Mister's wine...
Waitron: Are you ready for a glass of wine yet?
Me: (through clenched teeth) No thank you.

**********************************

Also, to the guy who installed a pair of fake testicles dangling off the trailer hitch of his little Toyota pick up truck; Do you realize that what this says about you to the whole world is "I AM A COMPLETE JERK!" ?

more, or maybe it should be less, boob news.

Here's something that's a screamin' deal; At the hospital, they validate your parking if you are having surgery so that you get TWO DOLLARS OFF in the parking garage.  Makes it all worthwhile i tell you!  We've saved FOUR DOLLARS in the last two weeks.

So i had my second surgery yesterday.  Hopefully that will be the end of this shit.


My boob is incredibly sore.  I am walking around hunched over like a little old lady so as to minimize the natural harmonic waves that accompany walking with boobs.  I even have two sports bras on.  Yes, at the same time.  A little wave action still sneaks in there though. Ouch!


And oh, the hospital stories;

• The condescending nurse that speaks to you as if you were 6.
• The farting people in the recovery room who just had colonoscopies.
• The nurse who keeps trying to get you to get up and get dressed and get the hell out of the recovery room even though you just woke up 5 minutes ago, who finally admits, "It's a factory around here."
• One time they insisted that i had to be wheelchaired out of the hospital, the next time i was allowed to walk out to the horrified gasp of a different nurse who said to my nurse, "You can't just let her WALK out of recovery."  (I turned to The Mister and said, "Let's hurry and get out of here before they make me take a wheelchair.")
• The chatty person in the next bay in the 'induction room' who wants to talk at you about her bladder problems.
• The young girl with mental problems who was screaming when she woke up.  (That was sad.)

All in all i can't really recommend it.

I would never admit this....

Last night i missed Em so much that i slept in her bed.

I DID IT!

Today is my dad's 84th birthday.

I used this as an excuse to take him out to lunch without the noise that is my mother.  She was a bit miffed, but that's to be expected as she does not like to be left out of anything.

My dad got all dressed up.  He had on his best old man Norm Thompson sweater (which unless i miss my guess was a present from my mother), powder blue pants (covered with cat hair) to match his sweater and shiny brown loafers with black socks.

It was so cute i almost cried.

I sometimes think my dad is not really doing very well mentally, but most of it is because he is damned near deaf, and despite wearing two hearing aids, has trouble following a conversation, especially in a crowd.

But one on one, he's doing fine.  That makes me happy.

We had a lovely time.  I need to figure out how to get him out alone again.  And don't suggest that i alternate taking my mother out alone, that's a price i'm not willing to pay.

**************************************************

Two unrelated things:

• I am wearing a pair of Carhartt  overalls.  That makes me feel good.
• I just put Bag Balm on my new boob scar.  It says it's for chapped teats.......

A bunch of pictures and the results

The Mister and i went hiking over in Eastern Washington last week.  Here are some pictures i took with my own teeny tiny camera.

Purple flowers majesty;

This is the potty at the top of Goat Peak.  If you look closely you can see the guy wires that hold it in place in a high wind:

Doug fir flowers.  Loved the colors.

Adorable mushrooms clustered in the shelter of rock.  Fairies dance here at night, you know it's true;

Okay, now for the results of my excisional biopsy.

No, the lab did not call back on the day they said they would.

Yes, it's a Phyllodes tumor.

Yes, it's benign.

Yes, the edges of the tumor were close the the edge of the excision.

Yes, i will most likely have to have more tit tissue removed. ('Nother appointment with the surgeon on Wednesday.)

Yes, i am likely to post a picture of the scar, but not now, as it is not a scar yet, but a wound.

Yes, i am anxious and annoyed.

My final word on the subject;

Topless

I have decided to go topless for the entire weekend as a homage to the last few days of having scarless tits.  Anyone want to join me in solidarity?

On Monday morning i am having an excision biopsy for the (maybe) Phyllodes Tumor.  It turns out that Phyllodes can't truly be diagnosed without actually removing the whole thing.

So i get a two inch scar on my left breast.  My career as a breast double for Uma Thurman are over.  (Check them out in Dangerous Liaisons, i assure you, they are a work of art.)

The Mister is dubious over my decision to go topless.  I will probably listen to him, but he really is NO FUN!

How do the raccoons survive?

I just left my child in Ohio for her Junior year at college.  Junior year people!

How did that happen? HOW THE HELL DID THAT HAPPEN?

I seem to feel even sadder this year than previously as it's now obvious that she doesn't really need me there except as The Wallet and The Chauffeur, roles at which i excel.

I didn't say she doesn't WANT me there, but really, she could do just as well without me.  It seems i go for myself.

I was a very 5th wheel at a dinner with Em and one of her friends last night.  It was Em's dinner # 1 as she had another dinner scheduled later in the evening.  I think this was the consolation dinner.

Ohio provided the usual entertainments, tent caterpillars, massive amounts of road kill.

Current two day count; 

4 skunks

18 raccoons

1 Canada Goose

1 bunny

5 'possums

1 deer 

1 unidentified greasy spot on road with fur.

Oh, and there was corn too. Plus lots of beautiful old barns that tempted me to stop and take pictures.

Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be......college students.

Choice

The Mister shocked the hell out of me the other day.  He told me that he is going to try and not leave the toilet seat up any more and asked me to remind him every time he does it.

That sound you just heard?  That was my jaw hitting my chest.

I grew up in a house with two older brothers, both of whom were trained to put the seat back down when they were done peeing, so i though this was the way it should be.

When The Mister and i first lived together, i used to get angry and nag him for not lifting the seat.  He was unmoved by my requests and my anger.  After a while, i gave up, as it was not worth it (although i still thought dark thoughts about him from time to time).

It all comes down to choices.  Is it more important for him to be right or is it more important for him to make me happy?

And of course, that works both ways.  Because it has often been more important for me to be right than to honor what is a trivial request because it make him happy.

Learning, always learning.....

Snippet

I like to have warning of when someone in my family is about to come home.  Usually this warning consists of a noise.  So i listen.

When we had a driveway, i knew the sound of The Mister's car, then the garage door opening.  Now it's the faint whine of an elevator i am listening for.  If it's a long lasting whine, then it's likely to be him, as we live near the top of the building.

I like to have warning so that i won't be caught doing ........ nothing.  I feel guilty doing nothing.  I feel like i will be judged for doing nothing.  Although when i am doing nothing is when i am thinking.  Which appears to the casual observer to be a lot like doing nothing.

To be clear, The Mister has never, ever criticized me for doing nothing, even when it would have been justified, so the difficulty lies in my own head.

 Picture from our hike to Mt. Baker this weekend, photographed by The Mister.

Sometimes i fail to listen and get caught doing nothing thinking deep thoughts anyway.

Unrelated Things

I've decided to keep score in a different way, one that will be sure to get me into heaven; if i believed in heaven that is.

It must be easy for nice people to be nice.  I wouldn't exactly know, but i'm imagining that less effort is required than is required for me.

Being rather a snarky person, i often have some snarky comment bubbling up inside me.  I'm now going to give myself credit for every comment that i DON'T say!  Believe me, there must  be thousands of them every year.

Brilliant!

Feel free to use my new accounting method!   

You're welcome.

*****************************************

The Mister and i were talking about orange juice the other day.  For both of us, when we were children, our mothers gave us special teeny tiny glasses of orange juice in the morning, and that's all we could have.

It's as if orange juice was this special expensive treat that must be doled out sparingly.

What's up with that?  It can't have been all that dear as we always had frozen.   Making orange juice involved getting a can out of the freezer and plopping the contents into a pitcher and adding exactly 4 and a half cans of water and then poking at the lump of orange concentrate with a wooden spoon until it finally dissolved. (Sometimes we would even lick the lump, but don't tell mom.)

Our mothers must have gone to the same mom school.  How about your mom?

Blah blah blah

Thanks y'all for the support and good wishes.  And thanks for listening.  It's nice to have someone to "talk" to.

The results?

Good news and bad news.  It's nothing cancerous, but it is (i just always have to be special and different) a rare form of tumor that will most likely have to be excised. (it's called a Phyllodes Tumor in case you are the type of person who likes to look shit like that up, which i do.)

I was advised to make an appointment with a surgeon to get her opinion.  But of course, my cynical self believes that surgeons like to recommend surgery.

So i have been and will be doing more research and getting more opinions before i agree to any such thing.

Part of me wants to throw myself on the floor and kick my feet and beat my fists on the ground because i DON'T WANT TO!  I'm guessing that's not really a useful option though.

I'm going hiking tomorrow instead, Because the hiking season has finally started around here.

Don't touch!

Ice Tits.

Sounds like something one would enjoy on a hot day.

"Hey, who wants an Ice Tit?  I have blueberry and banana."

Having gathered more information, i decided to go ahead and get the biopsy done.  My doctor seemed all for it, but of course, that would be her view.

I liked the (woman) radiologist  who did the procedure MUCH more than the (man) radiologist who did the original ultrasound.  She explained it all very carefully and told me WHY she felt it needed to be done.  Actual information, what a concept.

My left tit was numbed with some Novocaine mixture, a tiny incision made, and a small bore tube shoved in, guided by the image on the ultrasound. Then a smaller needle was inserted through the tube to shoot out 5 times and get samples.  Sounded kind of like a staple gun.

She showed me the samples afterward.  Looked like little white bits of fat floating in a tiny jar.  (Maybe next time they could biopsy my thighs and get some of the fat out there.)

Now i am sitting here with an ice pack on my tit.  Good thing it's 90 degrees outside.  I get the results tomorrow.  Oddly i don't feel worried at all.  The lady radiologist was most reassuring, saying it looked like a blah blah blah thingie.

But really, it's a lose/lose situation for the medical industry.  I will be pissed if it turns out to be nothing, and i will be pissed if it turns out to be something.

I am nothing if not contrary.