Friday, July 16, 2010

Go To Your Bosom

"Go to your bosom:  Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know."  William Shakespeare

Hello bosom.  Hello Flopsy.  Hello Mopsy.  Hello girls. 

Knock knock.

Whassup Heart?

It started out small, this little peaceful feeling returning in me.  I looked around.  Could not find nausea anywhere.  Checked the house. Checked the yard. Checked the closet and under the bed just to make sure.

I think it's safe to come out now.

The monster that was in this house and in this body and in this heart and cells and soul has given me a rest.

The monster is gone, and a a peaceful grateful joy that usually abides in me is coming around again.  Like a small little light that burned down so low, it is coming around again and getting stronger in me.

Whassup?

How you been while I was gone?  I hope ok.

Have I mentioned I say your names in prayer out loud too?  I do.

Sometimes the only thing that helped me feel better was saying your names out loud.  My family and friends, old ones and new ones, my coworkers and the people that take care of me, and the stranger angels that lovingly come to me.

I say your names out loud when the house is quiet and a candle burns on my night stand.  I say your names to lobby for you that the universe will be kind to you and put you on a gentle path.  Make your money and learn your lessons the easy way.  Not the hard way like writergirldreams.

Remember that pocket full of starlight I put in my pocket and saved it for a rainy day?

Sure came in handy.  A girl scout is always prepared.  I was a girl scout you know.

Thank God I stuffed the starlight that is me safely into my pocket while the monster visited me rainy day after rainy day.

I feel better now.  I am rising again.  I am getting my light back.

Had some glitches at chemo today.

Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister

Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister


He met Marmalade down in Old New Orleans
Struttin' her stuff on the street
She said, "Hello, hey Joe
You wanna give it a go?"

Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da
Gitchi gitchi ya ya here
Mocha chocolata, ya ya
Creole Lady Marmalade

Glitchi Glitchi ya ya da da
Gitchi Glitchi ya ya here
Mocha Taxol-lata, ya ya
Chemo Lady Marmalade

Menopausal Scorpio with cancer, Rising.  Wait, let me put my wig on and some lip gloss.  There that's better.

Chemo Lady Marmalade.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, glitches.

So remember that sunless sunburn last Saturday after the new chemo?  Remember the cold sores and the skin on fire and the port on fire too?

I told Kitty all about it today, and showed her my incision just below my port.  It's been 10 weeks and that damn thing still has not healed right.  It's just not right I tell you.

Kitty was concerned.  She called in some backup, another chemo nurse.  They concurred.  Needed to hold up chemo and talk to the Good Witch and make sure we could still proceed.  Good Witch was not in the office so Kitty texted her and we waited.

Hello Vonda girl.  So good to see you today.  Missed you.  Sorry I was such a pain in the ass when you were trying to take my blood pressure today, all talking and worked up.  Good for you shoving that thermometer in my mouth to shut my Tink ass up.  Lovingly of course.

Vonda don't take my crap.  She throws it right back at me.  Me likey.

So we waited.  Kitty was concerned.  She kept looking at my incision.  She just didn't like it.  It's been 10 weeks.  That damn thing should have healed by now.  It still should not be so ornery and tempermental.

I brought snacks today.  A banana.  When Batman was little he used to say "Banama?  Banama?" I also brought some almonds and those dark chocolate blueberries I told you about.  You get some yet?  You have to have snacks at chemo and drink lots of cool water.  This was my second time going by myself.  I think its good to stand on my own, but every now and then, this little debbie inside me gets scared and wants to sit in somebody's lap during chemo, and not that vinyl green chair.  I'm going to steal one of those chairs and burn it in my funeral pyre for chemo in the Fall.  I told you, look for the light in the sky, right next to the orange moon.  It's coming.

The Good Witch came back with The Word.  She had Kitty mix up my poison lifesaver a little differently, got me a couple new prescriptions and a slightly different plan for next week.  Also wants me to see the plastic surgeon to get that ball rolling.  Kitty said the plastic surgeon could look at my incision too.

It could be there is scar tissue from the first surgery under there wreaking havoc.  Who knows. I am just getting damn tired of it acting up.  I got the acting up covered.

When Kitty poked me today, she kind of massaged the port and tried to maneuver the skin from around the incision away from my port.  My port itself is much better, it has really popped up now, and you can really feel the topography of that Lego just under my skin.

The poke was much much better.  What a difference.

So today my pre-chemo cocktail had less dexamethasone (a corticosteroid) and less Benedryl.  I also got a prescription for Valtrex, an antiviral for the cold sores.  Kitty said I may still get the sunburn redness reaction to the Taxol but just keep an eye on it.  Call in over the weekend if I get a fever or start blistering or my palms start getting really red.  Damn.  I could be one of the Avengers.  Flame On Girl.

We will see if this works.  First thing I noticed when she plugged me in was it didn't hurt so much.  Thank you Jesus.  Second thing?  An immediate strange taste in my mouth.  Kitty was mentioning it right while I was having my wicked amuse-bouche before chemo.

"This might taste salty or some people say it tastes like the Dr.'s office, like alcohol."

Not exactly the martini I was hoping for; no gin and a splash of rubbing alcohol?  That's just wrong.

This chemo is weird man.  It's weird and it's hard.

Welcome to the Overkill Business.

Kitty said she knew several people who rejected treatment and tried a more holistic approach.  Most of those people aren't around anymore she said.  Yes its overkill, but its the best we have, she continued, and it works miracles.

Ok Kitty, I'm listening.

I should be the last person protesting overkill.  I think I am the Queen of Overkill.  Is recognizing it the first step?

Hello.  My name is writergirldreams and I am an overkill-aholic.

A few hours after chemo, I was all cranky, buzzed, and wired up.  I even snapped at my Robin.  Not like me.  Poor Husband coming home from work soon.

Mft texted me.  "How you doing?"

"Like Lorena Bobbit so staying away from the kitchen knives."

"Uh oh."

Then the best idea ever.

"There is no shame in popping a lorazepam."

Thank you honey.  I would rather sip a martini but will take a ride on  the "L" train to take the edge off this bitch.  I don't know why I didn't think of this the night before I have chemo.

I don't know if I told you, my insomnia on those nights goes NASCAR, and I usually can't fall asleep till 3 or 4 in the morning after traveling at extremely dangerous speeds in my former blond brain.  I will try a new plan next week.  Can you say "lorazepam?"  Open your mouth and swallow and feel the bitch soften.

I also got a prescription for the Dex in pill form, to take the night before chemo next week.  The Good Witch wants me to try this to help with the Taxol.  Ok Doc.

I will be a good girl.  I am listening.

Oh I saw my Safeway Lady today!  Hello B.  She got to see me in my new hair.  She loved it and gave me a big big hug.  You should see how adorable her hair is coming in after chemo.  Big Hug B.  When I hugged her, she smelled so good.

"What is that?" I said.

She whispered in my ear.

"Jellybeans."

LMAO.  B, if you are not up on the lingo, that means laughing my ass off. :)

So, the moral of the story here, another day in this life lived, go to your bosom and knock knock and ask your heart what it doth know.

My heart doth know that I am turning grit into pearls.  One layer at a time.  One day at a time.

At this rate with what I still have ahead, somebody thinks I need a strand.

Strand.  That made me think of Mark Strand.  One of my favorite poets.  Of all time.  Listen to this.

Eating Poetry

by Mark Strand

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.

The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.


The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.


Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.

She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.

I am a new man.
I snarl at her and bark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.

Ain't that fine?  In college Lit, I used to fantasize about kissing him with all that ink dripping from his mouth.

Wipe your chin baby.  Yeah, I'm talking to you, my reader.  You got poetry dripping from it.

and don't forget

to ask your heart what it doth know.

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