Tuesday, December 20, 2016

My belly is making weird noises. Last night, it sounded like the ocean and now it sounds like Saturday morning cartoons. 


I don't always miss my Mother like normal people seem to do. I lived with them for three years after I got divorced and moved back to Chicagoland and my best gift was to tell them the truth. This was/is not always valued in my family but they knew who I was. We had miles of communication toward the end. She kept saying she was so proud of me and I'd be like, what are you talking about? I'm not even done yet. 

But there is this one thing. 

I was making some soup the other day. Potato. I got all the stuff from Aldi-hoisted it up in a giant paper bag-maneuvered my 25 cent rental cart around the parking lot like a boss. I think those vitamins are really helping. 

A man noticed me. Offered assistance. Said I was a 'beautiful woman' and I thought yeah, that's because I can clearly bring home the bacon, hoist it into my car etc etc. But I appreciated the non-creepy sentiment. I must be feeling better, thought me.  

Got home, opened the potatoes and there was one that was the size of Grantley's head. It was YUGE(as they say in New Jersey). And just for a second, achhh (as Benita Epstein would say)I missed my Mom. 

If she found two carrots that had grown into an embrace or a tomato with a nose or whatever--because she was a finder of these things for sure--she would find you and show it to you. 

Once she made me come outside in my pajamas(horrors!)to see a turtle walking through our backyard. 

And there I was with a giant spud and nobody to show. 

Today, I was peeling some other not-quite-so-mutant potatoes for a sort of a white bean vegetable soup extravaganza, and I peeled? And a face appeared. Like an eye with a smile. 

I guess these things-they never leave you. 

I'm working on the book again. 


I had intended to walk you through the colonoscopy so when it's your turn, you won't be scared. Here we go: You have to be there 45 minutes early. So 8:15-ass in chair-for a 9:00 appointment. You need your phone for distraction. A whole lotta people cancel on this particular procedure. I can understand it but there's such a huge investment in time-why not just get 'er done, right?

You check in. They call you. You have to say what you're there for. You get taken to a room with a really weird open garage-type/curtain covered door but that's because once you get in the bed? You're going to be wheeled around. 

They give you yellow socks and two plastic bags to hold your stuff and that gets shoved under the bed. You have to take everything off. You put the gown on-open to the back and you hop on the bed-there are towels underneath you-and you get under the white blanket and wait. 

I try not to act like a sick person once I hit the hospital bed. Try it. It's not easy. 

They start a line in a vein. They take your history. The anesthesiologist comes and chats. The doctor stops by for one second. And then a younger anesthesiologist comes and tells you it's kiss and hug time. You wave to P who's head is bobbing because he worked the whole night before in the ice cold and they give you an injection into that line that's supposed to help with nerves or something like that. I was fine and then I was gone. 

You get rolled into a different room. It's got a lot of computers and stuff in it. Somebody tells you to scoot over onto your left side and you wake up in your room with plastic tubing all over the place-all covered up. 

There is absolutely no mortification involved. 

Now you know. 


P has a friend who's having some medical crap happening. I mean like authentic crap. Like hey, guess what? You're hanging out in rehab until your medicare runs out sort of stuff. 

I said, well, how is she? 

Her knee hurts, her ankle hurts and her ass hurts. 

Her ass hurts?  

Yeah that's her sister Eleanor. She's a pain in the ass. 

I walked right into that one. I am so off my game. 

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