Meanwhile back in 2010...
My sweetie had begun receiving daily radiation treatments for the tumor in his lung. Pretty quick and easy...it was not unlike getting an x-ray. Every day we'd show up at 9am and wait our turn. We'd go into the back and he'd strip off his jacket and shirt and hop up on the table. I'd hang out and watch while the techs got him lined up properly and inserted the lead shield that would direct the beam of radiation, then follow them out of the room to watch on a monitor as he received his treatment. In and out. It really only took a minute.
He was scheduled to start getting his chemo at the end of the first week of radiation, but he had to meet with his new oncologist first. Enter his mom... She decided that she wanted to meet the oncologist and was going to come to that appointment, and she did. We arrived for the appointment and discovered she was already there waiting for us, notebook at the ready. We got his radiation out of the way and then went to sit in the lobby where he had some new forms to fill out while waiting. I remember my sweetie sitting there trying to fill out the paperwork while his mom kept giving me sad looks and fussing with his hair. I was giving her the silent treatment. I did not want her to be there, she was fouling the atmosphere with her negative 'this is all hopeless' attitude.
Body language speaks volumes and my sweetie was increasingly leaning away from her and toward me as he struggled through the forms while she continued stroking his hair. Finally he had enough. "Mom! I don't think I care about my hair as much as you seem too" he said, batting her hand away. She immediately stopped her fawning and asserted that she did in fact care about more than his hair - but I didn't really believe her. I hadn't had a single conversation with her since January that didn't include her mentioning his hair and how awful it would be if it fell out. For my part I'd told him before he even started getting treated that while I also thought he had the prettiest hair ever, it really wasn't the most important thing in the world to me and I'd still love him til the end of time even if he was bald.
Shortly after that, my sweetie was called back to meet the doctor and discuss his chemotherapy treatments. He, his mom and I were now sitting in a small exam room listening to the doctor talk and she was again taking copious notes. I remember having a feeling of deja vu. She was asking questions about the treatment and...possible hair loss. *sigh* The doctor told us that the chemo they wanted to try did not typically cause hair loss. My brain was doing a boogaloo. I thought 'Ha!!! In yer face woman!'. I think I may have even cracked a smile. Soon enough the meeting was over. He would receive the chemo once a week for the next 6 or 7 weeks, each session would take about 2 and a half hours.
His mom offered to drive him to his appointments and we politely refused. I spoke up and said 'I can get him to his appointments, no problem' - and he was happy to let me. Over the next month and a half she kept offering. If not her, then maybe this friend of hers that lived near us? No? She knows so many people that want to help. I took offense at that. It felt like she was implying that I was incapable of taking care of this or she thought I didn't really want to do it. Couldn't be farther from the truth, really. I had decided to become his human shield and wanted to protect him from the many well intentioned people who wanted to 'help' him. Many of his moms friends are 'spiritual' people who wanted to take this opportunity to bring him the good word and 'raise his spirit'. (For the record my sweetie maintained that he was an atheist.) Neither of us are church going people and it would have been uncomfortable for both of us.
We met with a nutritionist who gave us a lot of helpful advice about his diet and we attended a 'class', more of a meeting really, to learn about chemo
and what to expect from it. He was being prescribed a mild form of
chemotherapy and we were surprised to learn that most people not only didn't lose
their hair from it but they actually felt good after their treatments. Really? I'd always heard chemo left you feeling weak and sick. This was big news! We left the class actually looking forward to starting the chemo.
Even so, I was pretty nervous the day of his first chemo appointment. I was sitting in the infusion room keeping one eye on him and the other on the iv bag as it slowly dripped into his arm. After about an hour, I began to relax a bit. They'd said that if he was going to have a reaction to the drugs, it'd happen right away. But there wasn't a negative reaction, in fact he looked quite relaxed...and a little stoned. We sat there watching the big tv hanging from the ceiling by his chair and every so often a nurse would come by to change one iv bag for another. Two and a half hours later and he was done. We left and he surprised me by announcing he was hungry - he wanted some McDonalds. No problem! There's one very close to our house and I swung through the drive thru on the way home.
We got home, he ate his sandwich and then an amazing thing happened - he pulled his guitar down from the wall and started playing! Holy shit man! It wasn't until that moment that I realized he hadn't played his guitar since at least January. How the hell did I not notice that? He'd slowly stopped playing because of the pain in his arm and shoulder and amid all the drama I had somehow not noticed. He enthusiastically cranked out a few tunes - Cliffs of Dover, Purple Haze, For the love of God... My heart soared! This was a very good sign indeed! For him to have stopped playing he had to have been hurting pretty damn bad and just knowing that hurt me as well.
He was a huge lover of music and loved the guitar gods in particular being a guitarist himself. He turned me on to a lot of stuff that might have otherwise escaped my notice (thank you sweetie) and music was a constant in our house. Sometimes front and center, sometimes in the background - but always there. There were times when he was practicing or trying to learn something new that he drove me just a little bit insane, hearing the same brief bit over and over and over again. The seemingly endless repetition would get to me after a while and I'd beg him to take a break. Please, PLEASE!! For the love of every thing holy please play something else for an hour before I become homicidal! I always felt bad about that. We lived in a tiny one room apartment at the time but practicing is important and he had no place else where he could do it. I could have split for a while or found something to do outside...what if, what if. Listening to him play now, I had a hard time believing I'd ever found his playing annoying and I was acutely aware that one day it would be gone for good. I tried not to think about that and happily lapped up every note.
The chemo was helping and he was feeling better. We quickly fell into a routine; arrive in the morning, get zapped and leave, and plan to be there for a few hours on chemo day. While he was getting his chemo I'd jet across the skyway to the hospital cafeteria and grab him a sandwich and bottle of ice tea from their deli. (Hospitals have deli's now - who knew?) We'd eat our sandwiches and I'd draw while he watched tv or napped in the chair until it was time to go home. The chemo was having a noticeable effect, he was feeling better and it was lasting longer with each dose. We also got good news from the techs - one day after the daily zapping routine they asked us to stick around because the radiologist wanted to see my sweetie. They said it looked like the tumor was shrinking and they wanted to do another scan so they could fine tune the beam. The scan confirmed it - the tumor had shrunk significantly! The treatment was working! They made a new lead shield and we left in a celebratory mood.
I drove him downtown because he wanted to share the good news with his buddies at the guitar store. He loved that shop and thought the world of the dudes who own it - and they clearly liked him too. He promoted them shamelessly everywhere he went - stickers, word of mouth, he even had their store logo tattooed on his forearm. Like I said, he loved that shop. The fellas were glad to hear the news and my sweetie picked up some new strings for his guitar and a new t-shirt.
It was nearing the end of March and true to their word, the doctors were going to have my sweetie feeling better in time for summer. At least once a week they did a new scan and each time it showed more shrinkage. He had a large odd shaped sunburn from the radiation, but he still had all his hair and he was feeling more and more like his old self with each passing day. We started feeling like we might beat this thing.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Piece of My Heart
Let's climb on board the way back machine and try to find some good memories:
Welcome to 1998! Please keep your hands inside the car at all times and remain seated until the ride comes to a complete stop...
I had finally gotten the man of my dreams, but all was not well. I had recently quit my job delivering auto parts and was skipping rapidly from one crappy low paying job to another. After the drama went down with vapid girl my sweetie fell off the wagon...well, that's kind of an understatement. He didn't just fall off the wagon and land in the dirt; he fell off the wagon, through an open manhole and directly into the sewer. He wasn't just drinking again, he had decided to start dabbling in crack too. Oh joy. One evening he was acting completely unstable and ranting but I didn't know why. I had plenty of experience in dealing with drunk people, but he wasn't acting like your average drunk. I knew there had to be something else supplementing the alcohol but I didn't know what. Now I knew and I was wondering what I'd gotten myself into.
This new development led to our first fight. He'd crossed a big line for me and I had a screaming hissy fit and ordered him out of my apartment. After he went downstairs I saw some of his stuff sitting in my place, scooped it up and angrily stormed down the stairs to dump it in his apartment. Unfortunately I didn't notice the plastic runner on the hall stairs was wet and I went ass over tea kettle down the steps, landing in a heap at the bottom under a pile of clothes and other sundry items. It knocked the wind right out of me. He'd heard the thump and came out to see what happened. I was laying there gasping and bent into a position normally attainable only by master yogis and he scooped me up, helped me into his apartment and sat down on the couch with me in his lap, gently rocking me and stroking my hair while I quite literally cried on his shoulder. The fight was immediately over and he decided he probably didn't need to be smoking crack after all.
All of this went down just as we were getting ready to go on a camping trip together and now I was nervous and not sure I wanted to go. He was pretty excited about it and in the end I threw caution to the wind and got ready for the trip anyway.
I had no idea where we were going - just that I was driving, and it was 6 hours away in northern Minnesota. It was just going to be a short trip because I was set to start a new job as a shipping clerk the following week. We piled into my thoroughly packed caprice at 3am and off we went. One of the nice things about leaving at that ridiculous hour was that I had the roads all to myself until we got to Duluth, and once we passed the small towns in the iron range we were again the only people on the road. It was a long drive and about half of it was in the dark. No problem. I'm very familiar with the stretch of road between the Twin Cities and Duluth and there's really not much to see. It's a long stretch of road lined with stands of trees acting as wind breaks, punctuated by the occasional random casino and the beginnings of urban sprawl between the cities.
We filled the time talking about anything and everything - the loknar, the Blues Brothers, Tower of Power, the month he spent in Hawaii...do I stay on this road or take that one, and then the sun started coming up and we were surrounded by trees and foggy mist. It was just covering the tops of the trees and it felt like we were driving under a giant white silk sheet. It was surreal and beautiful. We pulled over for a moment to get out of the car and enjoy it; standing on the trunk of the car trying to touch the bottom of it with our fingertips. I was surprised at how quiet it was. It was like we were the only people on the planet. A few minutes later the fog was disappearing with the morning sun and we were still a few hours away from our destination - time to go...
I remember it felt like I had been driving forever - "Seriously, are we sure we aren't actually in Canada now?!" "No" my sweetie replied, "just a little farther." Up ahead, the road curved to the right and as we reached it a parting in the trees revealed a river sparkling in the sun like it had diamonds floating on the surface. I gave a happy little gasp of surprise and my sweetie smiled. He said the other side of the water was Canada and that we were very close to our campground now.
Soon after that, he was telling me to take the next right and we were there! This, he told me, was the smallest state park in Minnesota. His dad had brought him camping there when he was a teenager and he'd loved the place. I could see why. We picked campsite #12 to call home while we were there and wasted no time in setting up the tent and finding some firewood. Then we grabbed the fishing gear and walked down the path from our site to the river. The shore of the river is covered with huge boulders and I remember having a good time hopping from one big rock to the next while my sweetie got his fishing pole ready. He looked over at me and said "This is how you catch a walleye" and cast his line into the water. I laughed and said "no way!" and then I saw the end of the rod bounce. Now it was his turn to laugh - he actually reeled in a walleye! "Way" he said and gave me a wink. If I didn't already think he was the most awesome dude on the planet before, I did now.
We climbed the path back up to our site, got a fire going and ate walleye for lunch. We had a great time exploring the park by day and each other by night. I fell in love with the place - it was so quiet compared to the neighborhood we lived in. No cars blaring hip hop driving by, no car horns, traffic jams or screaming neighborhood kids. If you stood still and listened, all you could hear was the sound of the river rapids, the crackle of the the campfire and occasionally a train over on the Canadian side of the river. It's very rustic; no electricity, running water or street lights. At night you could see a million stars, it was the first time I'd ever really seen the milky way in all its glory.
All too soon it was time to leave and we were wistfully packing up our site and preparing to hit the road. We didn't want to leave. The trip home was filled with as much talk as the trip up, except that this time we spent most of it planning our next trip to the park. We made notes to remember this item or that, what had worked out well and what hadn't. We also decided that campsite #12 was 'home' and we'd somehow make sure we got it every time we went there.
We made one more trip up there in '98 - this time in September - and we brought another old friend of mine, the dungeon master. We claimed site #12 again. The dungeon master found a site down near the river and was pleased to discover a healthy population of toads and other critters to play with when he wasn't exploring the trails or hanging out at our campfire. My sweetie was an expert at fire tending and I was an expert at watching it. I enjoy the flickering flames and watching the embers glow and fade hypnotically and my sweetie enjoyed keeping the display going, poking the fire with a big stick and occasionally adding new logs to the pile. When he wasn't fishing he spent a fair amount of time dragging fallen birch trees back to our site and chopping them down into firewood, but he seemed to enjoy it. I went hiking with my camera and hauled the occasional log back as well. As before, we had a marvelous time and the dungeon master loved the place as much as we did.
Back home in St. Paul though, the rest of the year set the tone for the next several years of our relationship. My sweetie had made good on his promise to leave the crack alone, but his drinking was spiraling out of control. Weekend binges had become week long binges. He lost his job over it. We had a lot of arguments followed by a lot of make up sex. I was simultaneously in love with and infuriated by him on any given day, but the one thing I was certain of was that I didn't want to be without him...
Welcome to 1998! Please keep your hands inside the car at all times and remain seated until the ride comes to a complete stop...
I had finally gotten the man of my dreams, but all was not well. I had recently quit my job delivering auto parts and was skipping rapidly from one crappy low paying job to another. After the drama went down with vapid girl my sweetie fell off the wagon...well, that's kind of an understatement. He didn't just fall off the wagon and land in the dirt; he fell off the wagon, through an open manhole and directly into the sewer. He wasn't just drinking again, he had decided to start dabbling in crack too. Oh joy. One evening he was acting completely unstable and ranting but I didn't know why. I had plenty of experience in dealing with drunk people, but he wasn't acting like your average drunk. I knew there had to be something else supplementing the alcohol but I didn't know what. Now I knew and I was wondering what I'd gotten myself into.
This new development led to our first fight. He'd crossed a big line for me and I had a screaming hissy fit and ordered him out of my apartment. After he went downstairs I saw some of his stuff sitting in my place, scooped it up and angrily stormed down the stairs to dump it in his apartment. Unfortunately I didn't notice the plastic runner on the hall stairs was wet and I went ass over tea kettle down the steps, landing in a heap at the bottom under a pile of clothes and other sundry items. It knocked the wind right out of me. He'd heard the thump and came out to see what happened. I was laying there gasping and bent into a position normally attainable only by master yogis and he scooped me up, helped me into his apartment and sat down on the couch with me in his lap, gently rocking me and stroking my hair while I quite literally cried on his shoulder. The fight was immediately over and he decided he probably didn't need to be smoking crack after all.
All of this went down just as we were getting ready to go on a camping trip together and now I was nervous and not sure I wanted to go. He was pretty excited about it and in the end I threw caution to the wind and got ready for the trip anyway.
I had no idea where we were going - just that I was driving, and it was 6 hours away in northern Minnesota. It was just going to be a short trip because I was set to start a new job as a shipping clerk the following week. We piled into my thoroughly packed caprice at 3am and off we went. One of the nice things about leaving at that ridiculous hour was that I had the roads all to myself until we got to Duluth, and once we passed the small towns in the iron range we were again the only people on the road. It was a long drive and about half of it was in the dark. No problem. I'm very familiar with the stretch of road between the Twin Cities and Duluth and there's really not much to see. It's a long stretch of road lined with stands of trees acting as wind breaks, punctuated by the occasional random casino and the beginnings of urban sprawl between the cities.
We filled the time talking about anything and everything - the loknar, the Blues Brothers, Tower of Power, the month he spent in Hawaii...do I stay on this road or take that one, and then the sun started coming up and we were surrounded by trees and foggy mist. It was just covering the tops of the trees and it felt like we were driving under a giant white silk sheet. It was surreal and beautiful. We pulled over for a moment to get out of the car and enjoy it; standing on the trunk of the car trying to touch the bottom of it with our fingertips. I was surprised at how quiet it was. It was like we were the only people on the planet. A few minutes later the fog was disappearing with the morning sun and we were still a few hours away from our destination - time to go...
I remember it felt like I had been driving forever - "Seriously, are we sure we aren't actually in Canada now?!" "No" my sweetie replied, "just a little farther." Up ahead, the road curved to the right and as we reached it a parting in the trees revealed a river sparkling in the sun like it had diamonds floating on the surface. I gave a happy little gasp of surprise and my sweetie smiled. He said the other side of the water was Canada and that we were very close to our campground now.
Soon after that, he was telling me to take the next right and we were there! This, he told me, was the smallest state park in Minnesota. His dad had brought him camping there when he was a teenager and he'd loved the place. I could see why. We picked campsite #12 to call home while we were there and wasted no time in setting up the tent and finding some firewood. Then we grabbed the fishing gear and walked down the path from our site to the river. The shore of the river is covered with huge boulders and I remember having a good time hopping from one big rock to the next while my sweetie got his fishing pole ready. He looked over at me and said "This is how you catch a walleye" and cast his line into the water. I laughed and said "no way!" and then I saw the end of the rod bounce. Now it was his turn to laugh - he actually reeled in a walleye! "Way" he said and gave me a wink. If I didn't already think he was the most awesome dude on the planet before, I did now.
We climbed the path back up to our site, got a fire going and ate walleye for lunch. We had a great time exploring the park by day and each other by night. I fell in love with the place - it was so quiet compared to the neighborhood we lived in. No cars blaring hip hop driving by, no car horns, traffic jams or screaming neighborhood kids. If you stood still and listened, all you could hear was the sound of the river rapids, the crackle of the the campfire and occasionally a train over on the Canadian side of the river. It's very rustic; no electricity, running water or street lights. At night you could see a million stars, it was the first time I'd ever really seen the milky way in all its glory.
All too soon it was time to leave and we were wistfully packing up our site and preparing to hit the road. We didn't want to leave. The trip home was filled with as much talk as the trip up, except that this time we spent most of it planning our next trip to the park. We made notes to remember this item or that, what had worked out well and what hadn't. We also decided that campsite #12 was 'home' and we'd somehow make sure we got it every time we went there.
We made one more trip up there in '98 - this time in September - and we brought another old friend of mine, the dungeon master. We claimed site #12 again. The dungeon master found a site down near the river and was pleased to discover a healthy population of toads and other critters to play with when he wasn't exploring the trails or hanging out at our campfire. My sweetie was an expert at fire tending and I was an expert at watching it. I enjoy the flickering flames and watching the embers glow and fade hypnotically and my sweetie enjoyed keeping the display going, poking the fire with a big stick and occasionally adding new logs to the pile. When he wasn't fishing he spent a fair amount of time dragging fallen birch trees back to our site and chopping them down into firewood, but he seemed to enjoy it. I went hiking with my camera and hauled the occasional log back as well. As before, we had a marvelous time and the dungeon master loved the place as much as we did.
Back home in St. Paul though, the rest of the year set the tone for the next several years of our relationship. My sweetie had made good on his promise to leave the crack alone, but his drinking was spiraling out of control. Weekend binges had become week long binges. He lost his job over it. We had a lot of arguments followed by a lot of make up sex. I was simultaneously in love with and infuriated by him on any given day, but the one thing I was certain of was that I didn't want to be without him...
Sunday, February 20, 2011
You can't bring me down
It was February 2010. We were on our way to the hospital to meet with the oncologist and discuss the available treatment options. Up until now, only his mom had been going with him to his appointments for moral support but her attitude was pissing me off so I decided to start going with him myself. The last time they'd been to the hospital they couldn't find the oncology department and canceled the appointment because my sweetie was tired of walking. They had rescheduled and went shopping to get stuff for his road trip instead. I suggested that they could have maybe grabbed a wheelchair or something since it was such a long walk. It was just a cop out though - his mom didn't think he should do anything but lay down and keep increasing the pain meds until he died. She seemed to have the idea that if he didn't fight it, he'd die a peaceful death and stay pretty.
We arrived at the hospital and she parked in the main ramp. It turned out that the oncology department was on the opposite side of the building - a city block away. As soon as we stepped off the elevator, a man in a blazer stepped forward, greeted us and asked if we needed directions. I wondered when hospitals got doormen, and asked him for a wheelchair and directions to the oncology department. Blazer guy produced a wheelchair and when my sweetie went to sit in it he tried to stop him assuming we wanted it for his mom. I immediately piped up - 'Yo dude, he's the patient - let him sit, eh?'. Blazer guy apologized and insisted on pushing the chair and walking us all the way to oncology.
Now we were sitting in a consultation room with an oncologist talking about treatment options. His mom was taking notes as usual - she always takes notes. I have no idea if she ever found any of her notes useful but I think maybe it made her feel like she was paying attention better. I was sitting quietly on the couch next to my sweetie, listening. The doctor was recommending a combination of chemotherapy and radiation and was telling us the possible side effects as his mom scribbled them down in her notebook.
She began asking him questions about the treatment and saying things like "Won't his hair fall out?" and "Chemo will just make him feel icky - why would he want to go through all that just to die in two months anyway?". The doctor seemed surprised by her questions - he had just told us that my sweetie could add significant time back to his life if he tried treating it. He repeated himself and said that this is what he would do if it was him or anyone in his family. He went on to say that although there's no hope of curing it completely - and she interrupted, gesturing at me. She said "See, she doesn't get that - she's still holding out hope for a cure." Ugh! The doctor finished his sentence saying 'we can seriously slow it down which can offer better pain management and add time to your life.'
I was furious with his mom, her attitude, and now she was sitting there talking about me as if I weren't there or could not speak for myself. I had heard enough and excused myself to go grab another cup of coffee. A moment later she stepped out of the room so the doctor and my sweetie could talk and came over wanting to 'comfort' me (translation - she wanted she hug me) but I was angry. She had talked about me as though she thought I was delusional or just didn't 'get' it. I knew there wasn't a cure but I also didn't think he should give up without a fight! Why would she discourage her son from getting treatment?! What kind of mother would not encourage her child to fight for his life?! I remember angrily saying to her "They said this it the way they treat it - why are you discouraging the chemo?" and stormed off after my sweetie who was being taken to an examination room. After the exam, the doctor ordered some new scans and set us up with an appointment to get them. We said goodbye and left.
I decided to push the wheelchair on the return trip. I am a deceptively fast walker and having had more than enough of his mom I quickly left her in the dust. (I'm short, my sweetie was tall - early on I learned to walk fast to keep up with him.) On the ride home my sweetie was saying he didn't really like the hospital we were just at or the doctors there. We were passing the St. Paul Cancer Center and I asked if we couldn't go there instead. They were affiliated with a different hospital, they were much closer to the house and they had better parking. He echoed the question at his mom - 'Any reason I can't get treated there instead?' and she said she'd look into it when she got home.
Later we went and got the ordered scans and she called on that same afternoon with appointment info for the new place. They said the scans he just got could be transferred over to them and they could begin treatment right away. I said I would handle driving him to his appointment so his mom didn't have to, but she said she wanted to come along anyway. She'd just meet us there.
As luck would have it, she couldn't make it to the appointment after all and I was secretly relieved. It was a sunny day, the waiting area was warm and bright and the staff was friendly. We went in with a positive attitude and met with a radiologist who matter-of-factly told us he expected to make my sweetie feel better in time for summer. He prescribed the same treatment options the other doctor had told us about and I remember noticing how much more relaxed the atmosphere was during this appointment. My sweetie asked when we could get started and the doctor said 'We can start today if you like.' What? Really? Today? Now? My sweetie said 'Right on man, let's get started!' and the next thing I knew I was sitting on a bench in a hallway waiting while he got a scan to calibrate the machine. I met the other people who would be treating him and we got appointments set. For the next six weeks he would receive daily doses of radiation to his right lung and shoulder. He would receive chemotherapy once a week after he met with his new oncologist.
We went home feeling hopeful for the first time in over a month.
We arrived at the hospital and she parked in the main ramp. It turned out that the oncology department was on the opposite side of the building - a city block away. As soon as we stepped off the elevator, a man in a blazer stepped forward, greeted us and asked if we needed directions. I wondered when hospitals got doormen, and asked him for a wheelchair and directions to the oncology department. Blazer guy produced a wheelchair and when my sweetie went to sit in it he tried to stop him assuming we wanted it for his mom. I immediately piped up - 'Yo dude, he's the patient - let him sit, eh?'. Blazer guy apologized and insisted on pushing the chair and walking us all the way to oncology.
Now we were sitting in a consultation room with an oncologist talking about treatment options. His mom was taking notes as usual - she always takes notes. I have no idea if she ever found any of her notes useful but I think maybe it made her feel like she was paying attention better. I was sitting quietly on the couch next to my sweetie, listening. The doctor was recommending a combination of chemotherapy and radiation and was telling us the possible side effects as his mom scribbled them down in her notebook.
She began asking him questions about the treatment and saying things like "Won't his hair fall out?" and "Chemo will just make him feel icky - why would he want to go through all that just to die in two months anyway?". The doctor seemed surprised by her questions - he had just told us that my sweetie could add significant time back to his life if he tried treating it. He repeated himself and said that this is what he would do if it was him or anyone in his family. He went on to say that although there's no hope of curing it completely - and she interrupted, gesturing at me. She said "See, she doesn't get that - she's still holding out hope for a cure." Ugh! The doctor finished his sentence saying 'we can seriously slow it down which can offer better pain management and add time to your life.'
I was furious with his mom, her attitude, and now she was sitting there talking about me as if I weren't there or could not speak for myself. I had heard enough and excused myself to go grab another cup of coffee. A moment later she stepped out of the room so the doctor and my sweetie could talk and came over wanting to 'comfort' me (translation - she wanted she hug me) but I was angry. She had talked about me as though she thought I was delusional or just didn't 'get' it. I knew there wasn't a cure but I also didn't think he should give up without a fight! Why would she discourage her son from getting treatment?! What kind of mother would not encourage her child to fight for his life?! I remember angrily saying to her "They said this it the way they treat it - why are you discouraging the chemo?" and stormed off after my sweetie who was being taken to an examination room. After the exam, the doctor ordered some new scans and set us up with an appointment to get them. We said goodbye and left.
I decided to push the wheelchair on the return trip. I am a deceptively fast walker and having had more than enough of his mom I quickly left her in the dust. (I'm short, my sweetie was tall - early on I learned to walk fast to keep up with him.) On the ride home my sweetie was saying he didn't really like the hospital we were just at or the doctors there. We were passing the St. Paul Cancer Center and I asked if we couldn't go there instead. They were affiliated with a different hospital, they were much closer to the house and they had better parking. He echoed the question at his mom - 'Any reason I can't get treated there instead?' and she said she'd look into it when she got home.
Later we went and got the ordered scans and she called on that same afternoon with appointment info for the new place. They said the scans he just got could be transferred over to them and they could begin treatment right away. I said I would handle driving him to his appointment so his mom didn't have to, but she said she wanted to come along anyway. She'd just meet us there.
As luck would have it, she couldn't make it to the appointment after all and I was secretly relieved. It was a sunny day, the waiting area was warm and bright and the staff was friendly. We went in with a positive attitude and met with a radiologist who matter-of-factly told us he expected to make my sweetie feel better in time for summer. He prescribed the same treatment options the other doctor had told us about and I remember noticing how much more relaxed the atmosphere was during this appointment. My sweetie asked when we could get started and the doctor said 'We can start today if you like.' What? Really? Today? Now? My sweetie said 'Right on man, let's get started!' and the next thing I knew I was sitting on a bench in a hallway waiting while he got a scan to calibrate the machine. I met the other people who would be treating him and we got appointments set. For the next six weeks he would receive daily doses of radiation to his right lung and shoulder. He would receive chemotherapy once a week after he met with his new oncologist.
We went home feeling hopeful for the first time in over a month.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Photograph
I'm outta luck, outta love
Gotta photograph, picture of
Passion killer, you're too much
You're the only one I wanna touch
I see your face every time I dream
On every page, every magazine
So wild and free, so far from me
You're all I want, my fantasy
Oh, look what you've done to this rock n' roll clown
Gotta photograph, picture of
Passion killer, you're too much
You're the only one I wanna touch
I see your face every time I dream
On every page, every magazine
So wild and free, so far from me
You're all I want, my fantasy
Oh, look what you've done to this rock n' roll clown
~ Photograph - Def Leppard
There was a photo of my sweetie at the memorial that just captured him beautifully. He's sitting on the grass basking in the sunshine, eyes closed, head tilted back, a smoke dangling casually from his lips, his long hair glowing golden orange in the sun. I'm pretty sure his mother took the picture but I'm not sure why she didn't give me a copy until after he died. The date stamp in the bottom corner is cut off, but the year is an '0 so I know we were together at the time. She had given me so many pictures of him over the years - why not this one?
There's no doubt she loved her son, but she apparently caused him some trauma in his youth. After her divorce she began hanging out with a feminist crowd and as a young boy he was subjected to a lot of anti-male rhetoric - something he would rant about a lot when he got drunk. Eventually she transitioned from radical feminist to a more hippie-like hugs make everything better mindset, but the damage had been done and it followed him the rest of his life. I'm sure she wanted to undo the damage, she just didn't know how. She had wanted to raise her son to respect women and had somehow alienated him in the process. Years later as his girlfriend, I would bear the brunt of it.
She tried very hard, but it was clear she didn't really know how to relate to him. As an adult he had some very different opinions and viewpoints than the ones she'd wanted to teach him - and that's where I came in. As I said in earlier, he and I were on the same wave length. We were two pages from the same book, but where he was very outgoing and social - I am a quiet and shy homebody. Several times over the past year, his mother had said to me "he really gets you T..." but I think that translated to "he really gets you, but we don't really know you at all". I usually keep most people at arms length and I tend to dislike people touching me (my sweetie had carte blanche but everyone else was hands off). His mothers side of the family are very 'huggy' people, and I think my aversion to their hugs confused them somehow. Like they couldn't figure out who I am without hugging me. All I can say is hugs never made me feel better unless they were from my sweetie - anyone else and it just felt suffocating and wrong. They were just going to have to get over it, and my sweetie was a staunch defender of my no contact policy.
They kept trying though, forcing hugs on me at family events... Eventually I started to withdraw and stopped going to his family's house for holidays, it was nearly always too crowded and someone would inevitably want me to hug them - I just couldn't take it anymore. After a while, he began to follow suit - much to their consternation. He simply decided he'd rather hang out at home with me instead. I tried to tell him 'Don't let me stop you - go and have a good time. Tell 'em I said hi.' But for some reason he didn't want to.
If I had to hypothesize, I'd say it might have been because I turned out to be the one constant in his life. I loved him unconditionally. Even when he was a drunk and I was pissed at him, I still loved him and he knew it. I kicked him out of the house from time to time to go sober up, but I always let him come back home. His family had passed him from relative to relative like a joint. His mom couldn't handle him as a boy and shipped him off to his dad and he was bounced from parent to parent to aunt and uncle and homes for troubled youth until he reached adulthood. As an adult with a drinking problem and they continued to limit their contact with him, telling him that they cared about him while keeping him somewhat at a distance. Once while he and I were talking about it, we did the math and figured at that point in his life he'd lived with me longer than he'd lived with anyone in his family. When he sobered up, that all changed. They suddenly wanted to spend more time with him and I think that while he was initially pleased to be welcomed back into the fold, it also bothered him on some level that their acceptance of him hadn't been unconditional.
His loyalty to me hadn't gone unnoticed in any case, and members of his family were unable to figure out what was so special about me that he frequently chose my company over theirs. They realized that just didn't know him the way I do. I lived with him and I got to see a version of him that they and the rest of the world weren't and never would be privy to and he got a version of me that the rest of the world never sees as well. I think a few folks may have been just a bit jealous about that.
Now I have a copy of that photo from the memorial. I made an 8x10 print of it, it's been matted and framed and I've hung it on the wall in our living room. I still feel butterflies in my stomach when I look at him.
I don't know why I was never given a copy before - but I'd like to hope it was just an oversight.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
The blessed hellride
Back to the future - it's the end of January 2010...
My sweeties dad had come down from St. Cloud with his trailer. The plan was to trailer my sweeties motorcycle and take him down south and southwest where it was still warm and the roads dry so he could go for a ride, clear his head and decide on a course of action. I was surprised that there was anything that needed deciding, but I guess there was... My sweetie was of the opinion that it was too late for treatment to be of any use, I believe the phrase he used was 'making beds in a burning building'. My take on it was 'Really? ...Really?! So you're just planning to go down without a fight? Dude, that's so not like you at all.'
Even more surprising to me was how his family was taking the news. Both his dad and his sister invited him to come live with them at their houses so they could take care of him. He politely declined their offers and said he didn't want to leave his sweetie. They said I could come too, but he turned them down saying he liked our house and planned to stay here as long as he could. His mom didn't want him to fight it at all. Of all the different reactions people had, hers shocked me shitless. She said chemo would just make him feel sick and his pretty hair would fall out, she didn't want him to die bald and why go through all that when there's no hope of a cure? I was angry at her for that. I spent a lot of time those early months feeling pretty pissed off at a lot of different people for things they did or said in the name of 'comforting' us. Yeah...go comfort someone else you *&^%$##@.
Before the fellas had left on their road trip, I paid a visit to one of my girlfriends and spent some time crying on her shoulder about our current state of affairs. As luck would have it, her neighbor across street stopped over and from him I received some hope and encouragement. He had been diagnosed with cancer 4 years ago and like my sweetie was given the 2 month to 2 year life expectancy. He recommended going for the chemo and any other treatment they were willing to try - he said it could help a lot in the way of pain management and slowing the tumor growth. For a guy who'd been given the same bleak diagnosis as my sweetie, he looked like he was feeling pretty good.
Armed with this information, I went home feeling a little better and had a chat with my sweetie. I told him I was in this for the long haul and that if he decided to try and fight I'd have his back and do everything I could to help him. I told him about my girlfriends neighbor and what he'd said, and asked him to please think about it.
So off they went - destination south and southwest. The plan was to head down through Texas and then over to the painted desert. Once they got to a place where the weather was nice and the roads were dry, my sweetie would ride his bike while his dad followed in the truck. My sweetie was already in pretty rough shape though and the weather just wasn't cooperating. They had to go much further south than they'd planned in Texas because of it, and the trip west was scrapped because the area was having heavy rains and flooding.
My sweetie called me in the evenings when they'd stopped for the night and gave me the days progress. The weather wasn't good, the trip was physically hard on him and he missed sleeping in his own bed. He sent me photos he took with his cell phone on the way... The next day he told me they'd finally taken the bike off the trailer in southern and he went for a ride. It only took an hour or so before his shoulder started bothering him. He decided an hour was going to have to be good enough, there was more stormy weather in the forecast and he was tired of being rattled around in the truck. Time to head back home then.
I remember feeling so happy to see him when he got back. I wanted to squeeze him for all he was worth but not wanting to hurt him I settled for a gentle hug and kiss. He'd been on the road with his dad for just under a week but it felt like an eternity to me.
He and his dad had done a great deal of talking on the trip, and it seemed the plan of action was going to be fight, but know when to quit. No life support, do not resuscitate, do not intubate. He also made plans to move to a hospice facility when he was near the end. He didn't want me to have to be his nurse, he thought it would be too hard on me.
For my part, I was thoroughly put off by his mom's defeatist attitude and I decided to start going to his doctors appointments with him.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
I heard it through the grapevine
And so it came to pass - the ginger had hooked up with vapid girl. This was a double edged sword because on the one hand, he moved in and became one of the roomies. I was now able to see a lot more of him as a result. The downside was that he now had vapid girl attached to his hip most of the time. It was almost unbearable for me. Every so often though, he'd come hang out in my room and watch me play video games and visit...
It was during this time that I learned he had developed a pretty serious drinking problem. I was sad to learn this news, but it didn't diminish him much in my eyes. We were all pretty young and did a lot of partying and I really didn't know what to say or do about it at the time.
Eventually, roomie #1 pissed off vapid girl and she decided to move back to her dad's house taking my ginger with her. A few months later, I too had reached my breaking point and followed suit. I moved out and finally had my first apartment of my own - no more roommates. By this time vapid girl and my ginger had found a place of their own as well and moved out of her dad's house. We visited each others places and talked on the phone often.
Then one day I got a phone call from vapid girl. She immediately blurted out that a mutual friend of ours (the sister of roomie #1's girlfriend) had been found murdered in her apartment. In shock, I took down the funeral info and made plans to attend. When I got to the funeral, I paid my respects to the family and ran into my ginger as I was heading back out of the room. He gave me the biggest hug, and I swear it felt like we we two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together. As he was hugging me, my mind screamed..."Dump her! DUMP HER and be with ME!! *whimper* Please be with me?"...I never wanted him to let go, but vapid girl was approaching and we broke apart. After the funeral we went back to vapid girls place for some recreational smoking and he ran off to the liquor store. While he was gone she complained about his drinking and I suggested that if it was that bad perhaps she'd be better off without him. She dismissed that idea, she said she didn't want to live alone and he helped pay the rent.
As time went on however, she began to change her point of view. One day I went over to their place and found him sitting on the couch looking very sad. He was drunk and talking like he was moving out. My heart skipped a beat. Even knowing what I knew about him and his drinking, I still wanted him. Vapid girl arrived home and shot him a frowny face, he said good bye to me and wandered out of the apartment. After he left, vapid girl filled me in. She'd had enough of his drinking and had insisted he go to rehab. My heart sank. They weren't breaking up - he was just moving to in patient treatment for a while. *sigh* "Oh well" I thought, "at least he'll get some help with the drinking problem."
At some point during all of this, roomie #1 and his girlfriend had broken up. She now had a new boyfriend and was living at his house with him and his roommate the dj. Vapid girl developed a crush on the dj and started seeing him on the side while my ginger was in treatment. They'd had sex and she wanted a serious relationship with him but he made it clear that he was only out for a good time and as long as she was ok with that, they could do business. I gritted my teeth while she moaned to me about her broken heart and being shot down by the guy she was cheating with.
The next thing I knew, she had another dude on the side. It was the cook at the restaurant she waitressed at. Meanwhile my ginger was due to be released from rehab. She told him she didn't want him to move right back in - he had to have his own place for a while and prove he was going to stay sober. I was the building caretaker where I lived and helped him out. I mentioned there was a vacancy and put in a good word for him with my boss - he got the apartment and moved in downstairs from me. I couldn't have been happier! I got to see him every day again and we'd hang out chatting about anything and everything. He seemed to be trying to maintain sobriety and I really enjoyed his company. Unfortunately he was still vapid girl's boyfriend.
I continued visiting vapid girl at her house while he was living downstairs, and during one of those visits she said to me - quite cheerfully - that she was 'so through with the ginger, but she was going to continue to string him along a while longer because she had him wrapped around her finger so tight he'd do whatever she told him.' Inwardly I bristled, but managed to remain composed. I asked her how things were going with her other boyfriend and sat nodding politely while she went on about how much better he was than the ginger. Ugh. I was baffled. I thought the ginger was so beautiful in so many ways, inside and out - didn't she see it? For me the sun came out every time I saw him - he just lit up the room! He was charming, funny, smart, handsome...it seemed beyond criminal to cheat on him, he was such a gentle and trusting guy.
I wanted to tell him she was no good. I wanted him to leave her and be with me. I anguished over the information I had and what to do with it while at the same time maintaining my 'friendship' with vapid girl. She invited me over one night for some recreational smoking and tv watching, She said she'd order a pizza and we could hang out. While I was there, her other boyfriend showed up and she said she need to talk to him privately. She took him into the bedroom to talk and left me sitting on her couch for 45 minutes before I finally got bored and said I was going to split. At this point she popped out of the bedroom and said, 'no, no - you don't have to leave' but I was offended by that point and left anyway.
It was about 2 weeks later that word started to circulate in our circle - vapid girl was pregnant. "Shit" I thought, "now my ginger will never be rid of her." Then I learned it wasn't his baby - it was the cooks. Whoohoo! Unfortunately the ginger was crushed to hear this news. He then decided that he was single and cracked open a beer. He told me that being pregnant with another dude's baby was a deal breaker for him. But in my mind I was happy dancing. I realized that she had probably been giving the cook the 'I'm pregnant' talk that night she left me sitting on her couch.
He started spending more time with me, and invited me down to his apartment for dinner. He made falafels and was surprised to learn I'd never had them before. I thought they were delicious. I started catching him staring at me from time to time, and one afternoon after a bunch of us had gone down to the river to exercise my friends rottie, she told me matter-of-factly that she was 100% certain he liked me. I protested. "No" I said, "I don't think he's interested." I had been right in front of his face for years - surely he'd have made a move by now. She disagreed and said it again. "No. He likes you. I'm so sure that I'd bet money on it."
Later that night after I went to bed, the phone rang. I answered and it was the ginger. He said "At the risk of making a fool of myself - I'd like to grow old with you." I paused and then stammered, "what?" and he asked if he could come upstairs. I said ok and he was there in under a minute. I let him in and he asked if he could spend the night. Before I could answer he said he wouldn't 'try anything', he just wanted to sleep next to me. Obviously I said yes, and we both crawled into bed. True to his word, he didn't try anything - but I could feel him staring at me while I was trying to fall asleep. My whole body felt like it was buzzing just from being in such close proximity to him. I don't think either of us got any sleep that night.
This went on for about a week before he made his move, and when he did - fireworks! I was the happiest woman on the planet. The man I had been lusting after for years was finally mine and I was determined not to fuck it up.
Out of the blue I received a visit from vapid girl. She wanted to apologize for abandoning me in her living room and also to tell me of her pregnancy (she didn't know word had already gotten out I guess). She sat on my couch and gushed about how she 'wasn't ready for this' and that she wasn't supposed to be with the father (it'd already gone bad and she had a restraining order against him) but she was with him anyway because 'he was the baby's father and dammit the sex was good'. Then she asked how the ginger was doing and I answered "Well, speaking of good sex..." and told her that after the news got out, he and I had hooked up - but he was doing well.
She continued smiling and acted like it was no big deal, but I could see the flames roaring behind her eyes and after a little while longer she left for home - still acting like everything was cool. Once she got home though, she apparently had a major mental meltdown over it and she called my ginger and left a long shrieking rant on his answering machine. She actually had the nerve to be pissed that we hooked up after she got pregnant by some other dude. Lol, whatever bitch. He's mine now...
And he was mine from then until the day he died.
It was during this time that I learned he had developed a pretty serious drinking problem. I was sad to learn this news, but it didn't diminish him much in my eyes. We were all pretty young and did a lot of partying and I really didn't know what to say or do about it at the time.
Eventually, roomie #1 pissed off vapid girl and she decided to move back to her dad's house taking my ginger with her. A few months later, I too had reached my breaking point and followed suit. I moved out and finally had my first apartment of my own - no more roommates. By this time vapid girl and my ginger had found a place of their own as well and moved out of her dad's house. We visited each others places and talked on the phone often.
Then one day I got a phone call from vapid girl. She immediately blurted out that a mutual friend of ours (the sister of roomie #1's girlfriend) had been found murdered in her apartment. In shock, I took down the funeral info and made plans to attend. When I got to the funeral, I paid my respects to the family and ran into my ginger as I was heading back out of the room. He gave me the biggest hug, and I swear it felt like we we two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together. As he was hugging me, my mind screamed..."Dump her! DUMP HER and be with ME!! *whimper* Please be with me?"...I never wanted him to let go, but vapid girl was approaching and we broke apart. After the funeral we went back to vapid girls place for some recreational smoking and he ran off to the liquor store. While he was gone she complained about his drinking and I suggested that if it was that bad perhaps she'd be better off without him. She dismissed that idea, she said she didn't want to live alone and he helped pay the rent.
As time went on however, she began to change her point of view. One day I went over to their place and found him sitting on the couch looking very sad. He was drunk and talking like he was moving out. My heart skipped a beat. Even knowing what I knew about him and his drinking, I still wanted him. Vapid girl arrived home and shot him a frowny face, he said good bye to me and wandered out of the apartment. After he left, vapid girl filled me in. She'd had enough of his drinking and had insisted he go to rehab. My heart sank. They weren't breaking up - he was just moving to in patient treatment for a while. *sigh* "Oh well" I thought, "at least he'll get some help with the drinking problem."
At some point during all of this, roomie #1 and his girlfriend had broken up. She now had a new boyfriend and was living at his house with him and his roommate the dj. Vapid girl developed a crush on the dj and started seeing him on the side while my ginger was in treatment. They'd had sex and she wanted a serious relationship with him but he made it clear that he was only out for a good time and as long as she was ok with that, they could do business. I gritted my teeth while she moaned to me about her broken heart and being shot down by the guy she was cheating with.
The next thing I knew, she had another dude on the side. It was the cook at the restaurant she waitressed at. Meanwhile my ginger was due to be released from rehab. She told him she didn't want him to move right back in - he had to have his own place for a while and prove he was going to stay sober. I was the building caretaker where I lived and helped him out. I mentioned there was a vacancy and put in a good word for him with my boss - he got the apartment and moved in downstairs from me. I couldn't have been happier! I got to see him every day again and we'd hang out chatting about anything and everything. He seemed to be trying to maintain sobriety and I really enjoyed his company. Unfortunately he was still vapid girl's boyfriend.
I continued visiting vapid girl at her house while he was living downstairs, and during one of those visits she said to me - quite cheerfully - that she was 'so through with the ginger, but she was going to continue to string him along a while longer because she had him wrapped around her finger so tight he'd do whatever she told him.' Inwardly I bristled, but managed to remain composed. I asked her how things were going with her other boyfriend and sat nodding politely while she went on about how much better he was than the ginger. Ugh. I was baffled. I thought the ginger was so beautiful in so many ways, inside and out - didn't she see it? For me the sun came out every time I saw him - he just lit up the room! He was charming, funny, smart, handsome...it seemed beyond criminal to cheat on him, he was such a gentle and trusting guy.
I wanted to tell him she was no good. I wanted him to leave her and be with me. I anguished over the information I had and what to do with it while at the same time maintaining my 'friendship' with vapid girl. She invited me over one night for some recreational smoking and tv watching, She said she'd order a pizza and we could hang out. While I was there, her other boyfriend showed up and she said she need to talk to him privately. She took him into the bedroom to talk and left me sitting on her couch for 45 minutes before I finally got bored and said I was going to split. At this point she popped out of the bedroom and said, 'no, no - you don't have to leave' but I was offended by that point and left anyway.
It was about 2 weeks later that word started to circulate in our circle - vapid girl was pregnant. "Shit" I thought, "now my ginger will never be rid of her." Then I learned it wasn't his baby - it was the cooks. Whoohoo! Unfortunately the ginger was crushed to hear this news. He then decided that he was single and cracked open a beer. He told me that being pregnant with another dude's baby was a deal breaker for him. But in my mind I was happy dancing. I realized that she had probably been giving the cook the 'I'm pregnant' talk that night she left me sitting on her couch.
He started spending more time with me, and invited me down to his apartment for dinner. He made falafels and was surprised to learn I'd never had them before. I thought they were delicious. I started catching him staring at me from time to time, and one afternoon after a bunch of us had gone down to the river to exercise my friends rottie, she told me matter-of-factly that she was 100% certain he liked me. I protested. "No" I said, "I don't think he's interested." I had been right in front of his face for years - surely he'd have made a move by now. She disagreed and said it again. "No. He likes you. I'm so sure that I'd bet money on it."
Later that night after I went to bed, the phone rang. I answered and it was the ginger. He said "At the risk of making a fool of myself - I'd like to grow old with you." I paused and then stammered, "what?" and he asked if he could come upstairs. I said ok and he was there in under a minute. I let him in and he asked if he could spend the night. Before I could answer he said he wouldn't 'try anything', he just wanted to sleep next to me. Obviously I said yes, and we both crawled into bed. True to his word, he didn't try anything - but I could feel him staring at me while I was trying to fall asleep. My whole body felt like it was buzzing just from being in such close proximity to him. I don't think either of us got any sleep that night.
This went on for about a week before he made his move, and when he did - fireworks! I was the happiest woman on the planet. The man I had been lusting after for years was finally mine and I was determined not to fuck it up.
Out of the blue I received a visit from vapid girl. She wanted to apologize for abandoning me in her living room and also to tell me of her pregnancy (she didn't know word had already gotten out I guess). She sat on my couch and gushed about how she 'wasn't ready for this' and that she wasn't supposed to be with the father (it'd already gone bad and she had a restraining order against him) but she was with him anyway because 'he was the baby's father and dammit the sex was good'. Then she asked how the ginger was doing and I answered "Well, speaking of good sex..." and told her that after the news got out, he and I had hooked up - but he was doing well.
She continued smiling and acted like it was no big deal, but I could see the flames roaring behind her eyes and after a little while longer she left for home - still acting like everything was cool. Once she got home though, she apparently had a major mental meltdown over it and she called my ginger and left a long shrieking rant on his answering machine. She actually had the nerve to be pissed that we hooked up after she got pregnant by some other dude. Lol, whatever bitch. He's mine now...
And he was mine from then until the day he died.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
No Rain
All I can say is that my life is pretty plain
I like watchin' the puddles gather rain
And all I can do is just pour some tea for two
and speak my point of view
But it's not sane, It's not sane
I just want some one to say to me
I'll always be there when you wake
Ya know I'd like to keep my cheeks dry today
So stay with me and I'll have it made
And I don't understand why I sleep all day
And I start to complain that there's no rain
And all I can do is read a book to stay awake
And it rips my life away, but it's a great escape
escape......escape......escape......
All I can say is that my life is pretty plain
ya don't like my point of view
ya think I'm insane
Its not sane......it's not sane
I like watchin' the puddles gather rain
And all I can do is just pour some tea for two
and speak my point of view
But it's not sane, It's not sane
I just want some one to say to me
I'll always be there when you wake
Ya know I'd like to keep my cheeks dry today
So stay with me and I'll have it made
And I don't understand why I sleep all day
And I start to complain that there's no rain
And all I can do is read a book to stay awake
And it rips my life away, but it's a great escape
escape......escape......escape......
All I can say is that my life is pretty plain
ya don't like my point of view
ya think I'm insane
Its not sane......it's not sane
~ No Rain - Blind Melon
I'm going to take a little trip back in time and talk about when we met.
It was 1993, and I was working a minimum wage job at a local convenience store. I couldn't afford a place of my own at the time and my roommate was charging me most of my paycheck for rent. To get by I needed to be resourceful and I was earning some extra cash by selling some herbal recreational products. *wink*
One day an old high school buddy called me to order a delivery of said product, I said 'no problem' and headed over. When I got there, I saw his roommate in the kitchen talking to the most beautiful ginger haired man I had ever laid eyes on. I was instantly smitten...so much so that I almost forgot to get the money for my delivery. My buddy asked me if I wanted to hang out a while but unfortunately I couldn't. I had to leave for my crappy job as a convenience store clerk. I never wanted to hang out more though, and all night at work the mental image of that dazzling red head kept crowding my brain. I decided to ask my buddy who his roommates friend was the next time I saw him.
As it turned out, I was sidetracked by other events in my life - my roommate turned out to be schizophrenic and had a freaky scary meltdown on me, and about a week after that I got robbed at knife point at the store. This was just too much for me so I was busy looking for both a new job and a new place to live. I still couldn't afford a place of my own so I needed to find a new roommate pronto or it was back to my dad's house.
My new roommates turned out to be my high school buddy and his roommate. My buddy's dad had recently bought and remodeled a duplex that had been fire damaged and now he needed tenants. The upper unit was a 3 bedroom and since my buddy and his roomie were already moving in they decided to let me move in with them. Huzzah! I had a new place with non-psycho roommates and reasonable rent! I had even found a new job - things were looking up.
I settled into the new place and started my new job cleaning at a casino. And then one day I came home from work and there he was! The beautiful red head was sitting on our living room couch... I was completely flustered and just mumbled 'hey' as I cut through the living room to my bedroom in the back of the house. Once in my room, my heart raced and I quickly changed out of my lame work uniform and into some 'normal' clothes. By the time I got up the nerve to go back into the living room however, he was gone. He'd been waiting for roomie #2 and they had taken off while I was in my room changing. Dammit. My buddy roomie #1 was still home though, so I grilled him for info. What was his name? Is he single? The usual stuff... I was unsurprised to learn he had a girlfriend. Of course he did! It was just my luck that any guy I thought was attractive would already be taken. Inwardly I sighed and felt disappointed. I would have to admire him from afar then.
Life went on, and he kept coming over - he was my roomies buddy after all. And since the pressure was off, I got brave enough to start talking to him. Every time I saw him I'd smile and say 'hey!' and he'd reply 'Happy _____' ('____' being whatever day of the week it was - ie: Happy Wednesday!) He always seemed genuinely happy to see me, and I would just buzz for hours from his smile alone. Through our chats with each other we discovered we had many interests in common, and similar points of view on many things. We liked the same bands and the same movies. And we were already showing signs of being on the same wavelength - once we were sitting around in the living room and the song No Rain by Blind Melon was playing on the radio. A friend of mine began to trash the song, it wasn't to his liking - he being a thrash metal fan. I defended it - "I like this song" I said. "Me too" the ginger replied and in unison we both said "it has nice harmonies" and then laughed at the coincidence.
Deep inside I knew... my gut was telling me this was the one - and I began secretly hoping he would break up with his girlfriend - soon.
More time passed and roomie #1 pissed off roomie #2, so roomie #2 moved out. This began an era of revolving door of roommates that roomie #1 found to take up the slack. They came fast and furious and left much the same way. One of them was a young lady, who eventually became roomie #1's girlfriend. Secure in that position, he moved into her bed and found some more revolving door roomies to fill the empty room. The next was the young lady's friend, looking to move out of her parents house. We all got along reasonably well and it seemed the roommate situation had stabilized for the moment.
Then one day I got my wish! I got home and heard from roomie #1's girlfriend that the pretty ginger I'd been lusting for had split up with his girlfriend! *happy dance!* I resolved that the next time I saw him, I'd turn on the charm. He came over as I was leaving for work the next day, not his usual cheerful self but he still gave me a smile and a Happy Tuesday or whichever as I was heading out. I had a new job at this point - delivering pizza - and worked shorter hours, so I was home about 6 hours later and completely stoked when I saw his car was still there. I walked in the door and there was about 15 people hanging out in the living room watching tv. All I saw though was the pretty red head on the couch, completely enveloped by the arms of the young lady's friend. And in my head I heard the fail trombone play. With a mumbled 'hey' I quickly retreated into my room. My mind reeled...how could this be?! That fast? And of all people, why her?! She was completely vapid and was always trying to one-up people. Didn't he know I liked him? How could he not know? I absolutely ached for him and thought of practically nothing else - it had to be visible from space!
Dammit, dammit, dammit!
Deep inside I was certain it wouldn't last that long, I was going to have to wait it out.
I wound up waiting 4 more years.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Down Deep into the Pain
It was January 7th, 2010 and my sweetie had just come from the doctors office with his biopsy results. He had been complaining of a chronic ear ache and pain in his neck and shoulder for years.
He'd been going to the pulmonologist for the past few years complaining of shortness of breath and these aches that would not go away. The doctor said she thought he had asthma and wrote him a prescription for an inhaler. When that didn't help, she said she thought it was bronchitis and gave him a prescription for another inhaler. Then she said she thought it was copd and wrote him another prescription for yet another type of inhaler. Finally after about 2 years of this, she said walking pneumonia and prescribed some antibiotics.
It wasn't helping though, and he still had this chronic ear ache bothering him so he went to a different doctor to have it looked at. That doctor said he couldn't see anything obviously wrong in his ear and asked if there was anything else he needed. My sweetie said 'well, I've had pain in my neck and shoulder for a long time and it really hurts when I cough' and that doctor decided to order an x-ray. It came back showing a large mass in his right lung and a biopsy was ordered.
And now the results were in. He came home, pulled up a chair, took my hand and told me it was cancer - stage 3b. I immediately burst into tears. No...please god, please...no. Anything but that! Why?! We were supposed to grow old together! We should have had another 30 years together easy... This just can't be happening!
But it was happening. He had been misdiagnosed by his pulmonologist for the last few years and now that we knew what it was, it was too late. I was an emotional wreck and I took to my bed and laid there crying into my pillow for a week, inconsolable.
I could hear him on the phone in the other room talking to one of his friends, saying that he was surrounded by weeping women but the worst part for him was seeing how hard his sweetie was taking it. He had been trying to comfort me for days; spooning me in bed, stroking my hair, telling me he loved me and asking what I wanted him to get me for my birthday. My birthday? My birthday?! Fuck my birthday! It so doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things! I blubbered that I wanted a cure for cancer, I wanted him to live...and he gently told me he'd love for that birthday wish to come true but he was hoping for a more immediate idea.
He had spoken to his dad on the phone who offered to drive down from St. Cloud with the trailer and take my sweetie and his motorcycle down south so he could go for a ride, clear his head and decide on a course of action. They left for Texas the weekend after my birthday. The house never felt so empty or me so alone.
He'd been going to the pulmonologist for the past few years complaining of shortness of breath and these aches that would not go away. The doctor said she thought he had asthma and wrote him a prescription for an inhaler. When that didn't help, she said she thought it was bronchitis and gave him a prescription for another inhaler. Then she said she thought it was copd and wrote him another prescription for yet another type of inhaler. Finally after about 2 years of this, she said walking pneumonia and prescribed some antibiotics.
It wasn't helping though, and he still had this chronic ear ache bothering him so he went to a different doctor to have it looked at. That doctor said he couldn't see anything obviously wrong in his ear and asked if there was anything else he needed. My sweetie said 'well, I've had pain in my neck and shoulder for a long time and it really hurts when I cough' and that doctor decided to order an x-ray. It came back showing a large mass in his right lung and a biopsy was ordered.
And now the results were in. He came home, pulled up a chair, took my hand and told me it was cancer - stage 3b. I immediately burst into tears. No...please god, please...no. Anything but that! Why?! We were supposed to grow old together! We should have had another 30 years together easy... This just can't be happening!
But it was happening. He had been misdiagnosed by his pulmonologist for the last few years and now that we knew what it was, it was too late. I was an emotional wreck and I took to my bed and laid there crying into my pillow for a week, inconsolable.
I could hear him on the phone in the other room talking to one of his friends, saying that he was surrounded by weeping women but the worst part for him was seeing how hard his sweetie was taking it. He had been trying to comfort me for days; spooning me in bed, stroking my hair, telling me he loved me and asking what I wanted him to get me for my birthday. My birthday? My birthday?! Fuck my birthday! It so doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things! I blubbered that I wanted a cure for cancer, I wanted him to live...and he gently told me he'd love for that birthday wish to come true but he was hoping for a more immediate idea.
He had spoken to his dad on the phone who offered to drive down from St. Cloud with the trailer and take my sweetie and his motorcycle down south so he could go for a ride, clear his head and decide on a course of action. They left for Texas the weekend after my birthday. The house never felt so empty or me so alone.
Cosmik Debris
The mystery man came over
And he said "I'm outta sight!"
He said for a nominal service charge
I could reach nirvana tonight
If I was ready, willing and able
To pay him his regular fee
He would drop all the rest of
His pressing affairs and devote
His attention to me
But I said "Look here brother
who you jiving with that cosmik debris?
Now who you jiving with that cosmik debris?
Look here brother, don't waste your time on me"
And he said "I'm outta sight!"
He said for a nominal service charge
I could reach nirvana tonight
If I was ready, willing and able
To pay him his regular fee
He would drop all the rest of
His pressing affairs and devote
His attention to me
But I said "Look here brother
who you jiving with that cosmik debris?
Now who you jiving with that cosmik debris?
Look here brother, don't waste your time on me"
~ Cosmik Debris - Frank Zappa
The alarm was going off - Frank Zappa singing about the mystery man and a trip to nirvana on my sweeties cell phone. It was 9pm and time for his evening meds. I rushed to get the pills and turned off the alarm.
He had been diagnosed with cancer on January 7th, 2010 and since that day had been prescribed long acting medication for pain to be taken every 12 hours along with another prescription as needed for break through pain. They said he had non-small cell lung cancer - stage 3b. Inoperable and incurable. Regular doses of pain drugs quickly became routine in our life and this was the song he chose for the alarm to remind us it was time for his meds.
I heard it twice a day, every day for the rest of 2010 and January 2011. I lost him on Saturday, February 5th at 3:15 in the afternoon.
I'm not sure I'll ever be able to hear Zappa the same ever again...
I decided to write this blog to help me with the grieving process and to tell the story of our lives together. It may seem a bit disjointed at times as I intend to write about things as I remember them, but I'll try to keep the time line intact.
We were two people very passionate about each other. We were so on the same wave length that he often joked that we shared a brain. He truly was my other half and since his passing I feel as though someone has amputated the part of me that he once occupied.
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