Thursday, March 30, 2017

What if you had a gofundme and your 3 friends who already assisted you financially (without even asking) felt like they had to open their butterfly-filled checkbooks again, and then you'd feel like you owed them at least a kidney and there are three of them and only two kidneys?

What if you had a gofundme and you were sitting at Subway savoring the 11th inch of a foot-long and one of your gofunders passed by the window and frowned at your extremely unnecessary extravagance? 

And what if you-gasp-Made A Meal out of it and you had to use your improvisational skills to fill up your cup using "the water button" as opposed to the lemonade fountain of joy and then you had to shove your chips and/or 3 cookies into your coat pocket and they get all squished and you get melted chocolate chip on your very best glove?

What if, on the day you were trying to get gofunded, there was some sorta more attractive gofundme-er with worthier people with floppier inside-out pockets and sadder faces and you just looked like a sniveling douchenozzle?

What if somebody questions the whereabouts of your pride when it was so clearly surgically removed? 

What if people got wind of the fact that you'd cut off your own contributions to gofunding based on the stern lecture you'd received on the ridiculous notion that you had enough cash to gofund someone else? 

What about that?

What if your friends who post photos of glamorous photos of big lives and exotic vacations-what if they declined to pay a bit of attention to your gofunding and from then on, your opinion of them would-if it had not already-most certainly change? 

What if you gofunded and something even worse happened- like you move to Kansas and your house falls on top of a lady with red sparkley shoes and it's-double gasp-actionable? 

What if you developed a gofundme habit and you meet your friends for tea and when the bill came you just sat there with a gofundme smile? Or what if, for the rest of your life, your friends would sit there and expect you to fund them based on this giant fantasy payday? 

What if you ask for what you think might be an exorbitant amount of money and find out later you could ask asked for a little bit more? 

What if you got gofunded and from then on-to the end of eternity-you'd be obligated to gofund everybody else's gofundery?


What if you gofunded and nobody came?

Saturday, March 25, 2017

So, I get to the gastrointestinal medication pharmacy talk and they say the (light) refreshments haven't arrived yet and I take my seat and read the powerpoint notes which ruins any mystery about what words will be spoken(sigh) and we pass 'Constipation' and we're deep into the middle of 'Diarrhea' and the pizza arrives and they say, Hey-do you want to take a break here? Or everyone can just get up and help themselves as we go along. 


And I am thinking about just how far I am from where I was when this all began. I'm looking at a square of lukewarm Lou Malnati's and hearing about the Sitz Bath and no one is batting an eye. 

Except for me. 

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It started over The New York Times. I see it via Facebook and they let you read 10 articles fer free and that's when the headline writers get really good and I am tortured because I can't see these delicious collections of letters lumped into paragraphs. Oh yeah no, not the political stuff or the front page or all those reporters risking their lives sprinkled across the globe. It's the ethics columnist or something like this one: 

Going Under the Knife, With Eyes and Ears Wide Open


This I have to read. So, I asked two different people if they wanted to split a subscription and they both declined for different reasons which is absolutely cool but the second one (helpfully)suggested something like The Washington Post which I could get fer free by signing up for signing up for Amazon Prime and I was like(imaging me mentally stomping my foot) but I don't WANT the f-ing Washington Post and I don't WANT the stupid Amazon Prime. I want The Times, dammit. 

And I recognized that feeling of like, Here Little Lady, you don't want that big ole nasty pick-up truck, do you? Why don't you come on over here and pick yourself out a nice Chev-ro-lay.  


I felt like I was asking for permission. And that shit. Had to stop. 

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That's when I rearranged my life so I could go to improv. I took a cut in pay that I can ill afford but I never got to rest after the cancers moved in and I was really feelin' it. Can you believe next Wednesday is going to be the last Wednesday in this series? It's astounding. 

The beginners group-which is what I signed myself up for-it took a long time to get to where we ended last week and that was-we were playing a game called Left-Hand Louie and the category was swear words(you have to go around and say different swear words and if you mention one that's already been said? You have to put your hand down. When your two hands are down, you're out.) but here are these people, who in some form or another, have found themselves mashed by cancer and we are saying reprehensible words and it was So. Funny. 

There were a lotta frustrations along the way-like one woman who was clearly Too Sick To Be There or the guy who at the first class introduced himself as a registered sex offender-like that was supposed to be funny-and ya know, listening to the instructors who Are Young-hearing them complain about their day jobs and this quibbley minor life stuff to a room where there's a woman with who takes three busses to get to Gilda's Club starting near Central and Lake where the shootings have closed the BBQ place because the owner is too scared-she said as I hoisted her walker out of the back of my car the one night I gave her a ride home. She can't stand for very long but her improv is as sharp as a knife. 

Maybe the instructors could work on their sensitivity possibly maybe or maybe that's the point of the whole thing. To not think about cancer for 2 hours a week.

I asked if our group could keep going. We'll see what they say.

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I am watching a GoFundMe. They say it's 'in my network'. I say I'm way too nosy. We're both right. 

It's woman with stage 4 colon cancer and her husband. He's asking for 45k. She's doing a 4 month chemo, them major surgery to remove her "colon, appendix and other linings", then a 2 month session with a different chemo and he says they're anticipating it will take between 8 and 10 months and I think of how glorious it is-that this man I do not know-has no idea of what he's in for and he's not even the patient. 

I mean the blindness to the rest of the story-if you will-is a wonderful thing. 
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I had something wonderful happen. It's happened to me exactly four times so far. Where one of my friends has massively interceded on my behalf and it feels like when you see runway lights go on in a movie. 

Like FWOOOMP. 

And all of a sudden all systems are go and you're running like hell to try and jump up onto that plane. It's the craziest thing.

I hope I can do that for someone else someday. And I hope I never have to. 













Friday, March 10, 2017

Here's what happened. 


A recommendation for Imodium, nearly bawling in the Apple Store and a picture of this: 


Photo by Christine Tripp




When last I left you, I was having big trouble in the Department of Digestion and my insurance reorganized itself enough to allow a visit to my Primary Care when I brought my usual laundry list. I think he likes when I laundry list him because we just get down to business very quickly and cruise through my list and I'm imagining it's like being on a Medical game show for him because I have these rapid fire questions.

The surgeon-after having been consulted by Primary Care- suggested Imodium. Which was sort of a good thing because it meant there wasn't anything specifically busted-so to speak and sorta of a gigantic bummer because I take enough stuff and I felt like, ugh, ya know? Not another pillllllll. (Read that in a whiney voice, won't you? Thanks.) 


Then somehow, my beloved friend Christine Tripp from Deepest Canada posts something on Facebook about a commercial she sees where it's some douchebag who is experiencing some sort of intestinal distress and he takes some some of magical TeeVee pill and at the end of the commercial he goes directly back to eating at the trough of the food that got him into trouble in the first place. 

She says it wasn't this commercial but you get the idea. 
The Sweet Taste of Victory



And then she posts this:



And I say, hey what is that? And ya know, it was all sort of 'off we go' since then. 

I made this stuff


And then I e'ed Chris and I said, okay what are we making next? And she said, the chicken soup. And I thought, oh god. I'm not really crazy about chicken soup. Like water with a greasy bomb of a bird, a couple of carrots and some noodles and ugh just the smell of it when you take off the lid. Ya know what I mean?

Oh this was not that. 

It was like we all wanted to lick the spoon it was so good. Mysterious good. Like how did it seem to be creamy and what was that flavor exactly? We ate every bite-no kidding. And I? Well my intestines got a whole lot happier. Fast. 

Right now I'm steeping ginger for tomorrows breakfast Ginger Chai. And I've got the stuff for the berry muffin and the whipped sweet potatoes and the roast beef roll up things and the bone broth. We just have to get organized enough for the making of the bone broth. 

This is all new to me and I'm just dipping my toe in and seeing what happens, but so far? To be completely honest there's been four trips to different grocery stores in as many days and then there's the actual cooking-which is no big deal but I feel like I'm adding value to my existence as opposed to stripping A&W Root Beer Pop-Tarts* away. 

Here's the website if you're interested. 

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We went new phone gathering in glorious Oak Brook. The sky was the color of some sort of stunning blue crayon that is instantly your favorite and gets worn way faster than any of the others. They asked how they could help and I said, "Baby's first iPhone" and this time-I got to play the role of the caregiver in that-I smashed my lips shut so as to permit the transaction to happen at the speed in which he needed to take it all in. 

We worked with a lovely kid who's nickname is 'Mustard'. The only things I asked was if the phone would be unlocked and was if there was a charge for the instructional classes and we all turned our heads to look at a table full of seniors leaning to crank on their various devices and I was looking around at all the different people and after a good bit, we got to the end of the transaction and we all shook hands and I said, "This is a very big deal." and Mustard said, "It's a good day." And I'm looking at this floor to sky window drowning in sunlight and that color blue and my eyes just completely welled up. 

It's been a very long ride, hasn't it. 









*No I don't eat those. My cousin and I are wondering who does.