JOB UPDATE
i've missed you. it pains me that it's been 8 days since i wrote last for the jones. the copywriting job is really truly cool so far. it's filled with appropriateness and tastefulness. i appreciate the former, the latter not so much, but overall the experience has been a boon to my self-confidence and nervous system. boon. is that right? sometimes i just know the sound of the word i want, not necessarily how it's spelled, if i haven't seen it in print very much or ever. boon, is one of those words. boom? nah.
BLOOD UPDATE
so i just got back from the gyno. what a cool guy. yeah, a guy. haven't seen a guy gyno since i was 18 and didn't know better, until now. he rules. he's the greatest. very thorough. he talks slowly and draws pictures for me of what he's talking about. then i have a chance to ask questions. there usually aren't many because he is so thorough. today, i prescribed my own course of action. how cool is that? i LOVE being a fake doctor. LOVE. today, i was my own fake doctor.
SEX MAGIC
i have something called endometriosis endometriosis is an example of how crazy cool the body is. how intriguing and magical it is that the lining of my uterus has broken apart and travelled to other parts of my body, namely my ovaries, and because this lining is designed to bleed once a month, that is what it does no matter where it is in my body! i'm not being sarcastic here folks, that is fucking cool!! it doesn't feel cool, but i have to say, i really appreciate something about it.
my doctor said i have three choices of how to deal with this and i pointed out that there are four. we decided to go with my idea: the fourth choice, because I'M so cool!
TREATMENT CHOICES
1. keep taking birth control pills the way i have been and if it gets bad again, take two. my answer: NO. NO WAY in fact!
2. induce a temporary menopause. huh? yep, apparently there is a new drug out that induces menopause via an injection. this is healthy and fine up to one year. there are no problems returning to a normal life after that. it completely stops all functions and they just supplement drugs for the problems menopause causes, namely hot flashes and calcium depletion. my answer: I DON'T KNOW...hmmm...
3. Surgery. a HYSTERECTOMY to be exact. take the whole damn thing out. do you want children? the doctor asked me. um, yeah, i think i might. well then, he said, that is not an option. (and there in that second i found out for sure that i might. that i really truly might! that's exciting. i was never so sure before. i could never tell if it was outside influence telling me that i might want kids.) my answer: NO.
4. and this was my suggestion: what if i keep taking hormones and we see if the brand new addition of progesterone works better with the estrogen, than the estrogen on it's own. it's really too early to know if this is going to be a success since i just started it a week ago. let's see if it works. if not, then we do the menopause injection. HEY, the doctor said, THAT sounds like the best idea. WE'LL do that.
i love my doctor. when i left his office, he gave me a kiss on my cheek. not in a creepy way. in a grandfatherly way. it was really nice.
it's all going to be ok, i will tell guy. it's all going to be OKAY.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Monday, October 16, 2006
Blood Sister
there is only one picture that could adequately portray this post, and i can't find it. it's that scene in the Shining when the blood comes flowing out of the elevators of the Outlook Hotel, as danny sees it in his mind.
friday: i wake up hemorrhaging. i can't stop the blood. i wake up feeling it run between my labia majora onto my underwear and further. i feel down there with my fingers, it's sticky. i make a noise like "uh" and jump up and run to the bathroom. i sit down and the blood starts to flow. it runs out of me like i'm peeing blood. it is blood running out of my vagina like pee. there are blood clots the size of ping pong balls falling out of me. it makes me feel sick. there is something inately wrong with feeling anything run the entire course of the vagina and it not being a baby. i've never felt this before. it makes me nauseous. i want to vomit with each ping pong ball. they fall through me and PLOP, PLOP, PLOP, PLOP. i've never felt something so pure, in a way, i mean, this is humanity right here and i want to barf on the reality. when it slows down to a drip, i clean up my legs, the toilet seat, my crotch, my underwear, i change, i get up, i swallow four advil and two aleve immediately because that's how quick the searing pain across my abdomen comes. like fire.
i lay down and moan.
guy is asleep but gets that something is happening, he puts his arm over my ribcage with a light touch of love. i moan.
i turn onto my left side and curl up. it's weird how this is less painful than lying on my back with my legs straight or OR pulled up. why? the muscles are less pulled out so it's less strain? there is only position allowed and that is on my side, curled up. knees to chest, head to chest, like an acorn. soon, i jump up again and pee more blood, this makes me feel so sick, i feel vomit actually coming, i get up off the toilet and put my face forward instead. i vomit a few pieces of smoked gouda i took down with the pills, and a whole lot of water. you can imagine what is coming out of the other side of me as i throw up, and what rug it is ruining.
when it is over, i get in bed, i lie there and wait for the advil and aleve to take affect. soon, guy wakes up for his day. he says "did you call the doctor?" upon hearing of what is happening. "no, i've got to wait until 9am" i tell him. he leaves for work, he kisses me goodbye, "let me know what the doctor says" and he's off.
about 8:30, right after i leave a message for the doctor to call me "in case of emergency," i eat a piece of marijuana fudge. marijuana is a great herbal painkiller. fortunately, i have some that my friend made me for my birthday. i eat a chunk and lay down, waiting for all of the drugs to finally take effect and relieve me of the stomach-churning dullness of my organs bleeding.
they do. i fall asleep. i wake up when the doctor's nurse calls with questions. i tell her of my myriad of pain and the timing of such pain and then i pause, i have suddenly forgotten which pain i'm talking about. i pause, i'm faltering, i have no idea which point in the three-point pain story that i am currently describing. i tell her, "i'm panicking. i don't know what i was saying. um, nevermind." i realize i am actually stoned. huh, who knew. she proceeds to explain a "brick and mortar" analogy of what they've been trying to do by prescribing me birth control pills to stop the bleeding and consequent pain. suddenly, i remember, while i'm trying to follow her analogy, "oh, i know what i was saying," i tell her and go on. she says there are still no earlier appointments than october 24th to see me and discuss surgery and the end of this fucked up two.five month experience of constant bleeding and pain. so, she says, we will give you more hormones to take with the pills. do you need more vicodin? yes, i tell, yes, it helps. we hang up.
i get the pills, i take them, i take some vicodin, i spend all day saturday and sunday in bed.
monday morning is my new job, i feel better. i wake up, i'm bleeding "normally" vs. a hemmorhage, and i get ready for my first day. i dress, i feel good. i'm set. i get on the bus, i get down to the final underground train stop and get off, and feel that labia feeling again. more flow. holy fuck. there is no more bathroom access in the train stations since 9/11. i'm screwed. i have my connecting train coming, with no more on the horizon, i have to take it. there is no time to run up the escalator and and get to the hyatt regency on market street a block away to use the facilities, so i pray for the flow to be slow. at the same time, a goth guy proceeds to pick up on me. he's somewhat sophisticated, not a teenager or anything, he talks to me about my jewelry and my job that i'm hurrying to and tells me i should read chuck palahniuk. how crazy, i just started reading my first chuck novel, DIARY. we chat, the train goes, i get off, he's headed to the south bay, so it's a nice and quick conversation.
i get off, i run to GAP, INC and hurriedly ask the receptionist for the bathroom as the blood drips down my short-skirted, high-booted legs. Five minutes later, i'm all cleaned up, report to my new supervisor and as she explains my new job to me, in detail, i face excruciating abdomenal pain and i grin, and i bare it. i have forgotten my trustworthy and fast-acting advil liqui-caps and am faced with an hour of pain before the two aleve i have swallowed, take effect.
the rest of the day is pretty cool. i am being paid to write. this is something i have done only on the side, in the past. this is something i have had to do on the sly, during my usual design hours for years, and here i am, handed a collection of gorgeous leather men's bags, and told to write descriptive copy about said bags. amazing. i love it. i go through my own process: get the facts down first: 1. details that are known like how many pockets, their description and location, i open each bag, i inspect how they're made, their hardware etc. 2. look at them. how do they make me feel, what do i think of when i see them? what kind of guy wants these bags? what do they do? what are these guys looking for? etc etc etc. i really love it. i can't believe i have been granted this hall pass.
and the bleeding subsides. i will find out if i will have surgery in a week. i find out if i get a permanent job with this company in six months. i am only concerned with one thing and that is balance.
they both must work.
friday: i wake up hemorrhaging. i can't stop the blood. i wake up feeling it run between my labia majora onto my underwear and further. i feel down there with my fingers, it's sticky. i make a noise like "uh" and jump up and run to the bathroom. i sit down and the blood starts to flow. it runs out of me like i'm peeing blood. it is blood running out of my vagina like pee. there are blood clots the size of ping pong balls falling out of me. it makes me feel sick. there is something inately wrong with feeling anything run the entire course of the vagina and it not being a baby. i've never felt this before. it makes me nauseous. i want to vomit with each ping pong ball. they fall through me and PLOP, PLOP, PLOP, PLOP. i've never felt something so pure, in a way, i mean, this is humanity right here and i want to barf on the reality. when it slows down to a drip, i clean up my legs, the toilet seat, my crotch, my underwear, i change, i get up, i swallow four advil and two aleve immediately because that's how quick the searing pain across my abdomen comes. like fire.
i lay down and moan.
guy is asleep but gets that something is happening, he puts his arm over my ribcage with a light touch of love. i moan.
i turn onto my left side and curl up. it's weird how this is less painful than lying on my back with my legs straight or OR pulled up. why? the muscles are less pulled out so it's less strain? there is only position allowed and that is on my side, curled up. knees to chest, head to chest, like an acorn. soon, i jump up again and pee more blood, this makes me feel so sick, i feel vomit actually coming, i get up off the toilet and put my face forward instead. i vomit a few pieces of smoked gouda i took down with the pills, and a whole lot of water. you can imagine what is coming out of the other side of me as i throw up, and what rug it is ruining.
when it is over, i get in bed, i lie there and wait for the advil and aleve to take affect. soon, guy wakes up for his day. he says "did you call the doctor?" upon hearing of what is happening. "no, i've got to wait until 9am" i tell him. he leaves for work, he kisses me goodbye, "let me know what the doctor says" and he's off.
about 8:30, right after i leave a message for the doctor to call me "in case of emergency," i eat a piece of marijuana fudge. marijuana is a great herbal painkiller. fortunately, i have some that my friend made me for my birthday. i eat a chunk and lay down, waiting for all of the drugs to finally take effect and relieve me of the stomach-churning dullness of my organs bleeding.
they do. i fall asleep. i wake up when the doctor's nurse calls with questions. i tell her of my myriad of pain and the timing of such pain and then i pause, i have suddenly forgotten which pain i'm talking about. i pause, i'm faltering, i have no idea which point in the three-point pain story that i am currently describing. i tell her, "i'm panicking. i don't know what i was saying. um, nevermind." i realize i am actually stoned. huh, who knew. she proceeds to explain a "brick and mortar" analogy of what they've been trying to do by prescribing me birth control pills to stop the bleeding and consequent pain. suddenly, i remember, while i'm trying to follow her analogy, "oh, i know what i was saying," i tell her and go on. she says there are still no earlier appointments than october 24th to see me and discuss surgery and the end of this fucked up two.five month experience of constant bleeding and pain. so, she says, we will give you more hormones to take with the pills. do you need more vicodin? yes, i tell, yes, it helps. we hang up.
i get the pills, i take them, i take some vicodin, i spend all day saturday and sunday in bed.
monday morning is my new job, i feel better. i wake up, i'm bleeding "normally" vs. a hemmorhage, and i get ready for my first day. i dress, i feel good. i'm set. i get on the bus, i get down to the final underground train stop and get off, and feel that labia feeling again. more flow. holy fuck. there is no more bathroom access in the train stations since 9/11. i'm screwed. i have my connecting train coming, with no more on the horizon, i have to take it. there is no time to run up the escalator and and get to the hyatt regency on market street a block away to use the facilities, so i pray for the flow to be slow. at the same time, a goth guy proceeds to pick up on me. he's somewhat sophisticated, not a teenager or anything, he talks to me about my jewelry and my job that i'm hurrying to and tells me i should read chuck palahniuk. how crazy, i just started reading my first chuck novel, DIARY. we chat, the train goes, i get off, he's headed to the south bay, so it's a nice and quick conversation.
i get off, i run to GAP, INC and hurriedly ask the receptionist for the bathroom as the blood drips down my short-skirted, high-booted legs. Five minutes later, i'm all cleaned up, report to my new supervisor and as she explains my new job to me, in detail, i face excruciating abdomenal pain and i grin, and i bare it. i have forgotten my trustworthy and fast-acting advil liqui-caps and am faced with an hour of pain before the two aleve i have swallowed, take effect.
the rest of the day is pretty cool. i am being paid to write. this is something i have done only on the side, in the past. this is something i have had to do on the sly, during my usual design hours for years, and here i am, handed a collection of gorgeous leather men's bags, and told to write descriptive copy about said bags. amazing. i love it. i go through my own process: get the facts down first: 1. details that are known like how many pockets, their description and location, i open each bag, i inspect how they're made, their hardware etc. 2. look at them. how do they make me feel, what do i think of when i see them? what kind of guy wants these bags? what do they do? what are these guys looking for? etc etc etc. i really love it. i can't believe i have been granted this hall pass.
and the bleeding subsides. i will find out if i will have surgery in a week. i find out if i get a permanent job with this company in six months. i am only concerned with one thing and that is balance.
they both must work.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Disease-free
Disease-free, that is me. when i woke up this morning, and realized i never had to get on the Krazee Bus again and never had to endure the pain that was my old job, again, i felt clean, like i had just been told that the terminal illness i used to have, has suddenly disappeared, that i'm well now and nothing can stop me. i actually feel giddy.
my friend (G) down in mexico just sent me a link that describes how i feel more perfectly than i can. thanks g!
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
War Eagle
my parents divorced when i was 1 year old. my dad gave me up for adoption to my stepdad and lost all rights to me by the time i was 18 months old. this pretty much guaranteed he could continue to be the irrepressably irresponsible party boy he had always been.
i didn't even find out he existed until i was 10 years old. my mom told me and cried. we were sitting on the floor in her master bathroom, cleaning out cabinets. i remember not being surprised. i remember feeling like i already knew.
i did not actually spend time with him, get to know him, until i was 26 years old and started visiting him periodically, in louisiana. we got along great. i saw he and my mom in the same room once, about this time. it was very very weird. i can't describe the feeling.
last night i talked with him on the phone for a long time. while i was talking to him, my mom called on the other line and things suddenly got exciting. i clicked to my mom, told her i was talking to bio-dad, she says, "tell (G) i said WAR EAGLE." (this is her college football team - Auburn, fierce rivals with his college team - LSU) she had told me earlier that week that her team had kicked his team's ass and she was thrilled. i clicked back to him, i gave him the message. he said, "oh yeah, tell her the only reason LSU lost is because of bad coaching!" i clicked back to her, gave her the message. when i hung up with both of them, i realized i had just been in the middle of a fight between my divorced parents for the first time ever in my life.
and i loved it.
kids dealing with fighting divorced parents has got to suck, i never experienced that. what i experienced was people so completely disconnected that fighting would have been a healthy step for them.
i have to say, i wish my parents would fight with each other through me more often. it felt like we were some kind of family in some kind of way. finally.
i didn't even find out he existed until i was 10 years old. my mom told me and cried. we were sitting on the floor in her master bathroom, cleaning out cabinets. i remember not being surprised. i remember feeling like i already knew.
i did not actually spend time with him, get to know him, until i was 26 years old and started visiting him periodically, in louisiana. we got along great. i saw he and my mom in the same room once, about this time. it was very very weird. i can't describe the feeling.
last night i talked with him on the phone for a long time. while i was talking to him, my mom called on the other line and things suddenly got exciting. i clicked to my mom, told her i was talking to bio-dad, she says, "tell (G) i said WAR EAGLE." (this is her college football team - Auburn, fierce rivals with his college team - LSU) she had told me earlier that week that her team had kicked his team's ass and she was thrilled. i clicked back to him, i gave him the message. he said, "oh yeah, tell her the only reason LSU lost is because of bad coaching!" i clicked back to her, gave her the message. when i hung up with both of them, i realized i had just been in the middle of a fight between my divorced parents for the first time ever in my life.
and i loved it.
kids dealing with fighting divorced parents has got to suck, i never experienced that. what i experienced was people so completely disconnected that fighting would have been a healthy step for them.
i have to say, i wish my parents would fight with each other through me more often. it felt like we were some kind of family in some kind of way. finally.
Somatic: of or pertaining to the body
today my shrink called me somatic.
simply put, my emotions make me sick.
they're so gross. gross emotions! gross!
Monday, October 09, 2006
Happy Birthday John
today would be john lennon's 66th birthday if he wasn't dead. i was 10 years old and watching little house on the prairie when he died, and newsbreaks broke in and interrupted the show. i asked my mom why it was such a big deal, as i did not grow up with pop culture in the house. or music. in fact, the tv we were watching was the family first. my mom told me this man dying was a big deal because he was in a band. that's all she said, "he was in a band."
3 years later i was old enough to understand the real reason why and embarked on an obsession. i read everything written, but refused that goldman book that was nothing short of sacreligious. seriously, what a prick.
16 years later i spoke face to face (or rather her face to my waist) with yoko ono. i had the EXTREME priviledge of speaking with her, an artist and woman i greatly respect on june 16, 1996. meeting her, after years of adoration was fucking unreal to say the least. more on that story later.
21 years later, i got a job photographing yoko ono at a dance club in the middle of the night, where she was performing a re-release of her song "kiss, kiss, kiss." TWO yoko encounters? MINDBLOWING.
i love john lennon for his music, art, writing (A Spaniard in the Works, In His Own Write and Skywriting by Word of Mouth), and revolutionary ideas more than i ever loved the beatles. even though he fessed up to being a misogynist as a young man ("i've been mean my woman and kept her away from the things that she loved and man, that was mean but i'm changing my scene and i'm doing the best that can") - i cleared him of guilt because he fessed up.
happy bday JL. god, i wish you were still around. fucking hell.
"you love me! you really love me!"
it's my second to last day at this job. i just wrote a whole paragraph about what went wrong with this job, but fuck that. i'm not dwelling there. my time with those thoughts is over.
besides, i have something nice to report from the frontlines of humanity.
i went in to get coffee today from Axis Cafe, a place i visit nearly everyday for my afternoon wake-up coffee or the amazing spicy ahi tuna salad for lunch. i have made friends with the cafe girls over time and one especially is very friendly to me. she reminds me of my best friend from the college dorms...my cute, scatter-brained blonde surfer/stoner girlfriend, so i liked her right away. this morning i walked in for morning coffee and told her that i wouldn't be coming in anymore, that i have a new job. she said, hold on a minute, i want to give you something, and she wrote out a certificate for a free lunch. she signed it with a heart and the words, "good luck! we'll miss you!"
i mean, really. that's what i'm walking around with today. not the confused, jealous, scowling, black nightmare in the corner who won't talk to me.
thanks miss "ox"!
(above quote from sally field during some acceptance speech at the oscars in the 80s. anyone remember?)
Friday, October 06, 2006
Peter, my first african friend
she's 57, she's grey. she was neglected for two decades and stopped talking. she has a good home now, but still does not speak. now she just whistles.
she's a parrot named peter.
i've worked here for a year and a half, here where peter lives. as an animal lover, i was suprised when we didn't become friends for the first year of that time. truth is, she made me nervous. other birds don't make me nervous. this was weird. whenever i put my hand in her cage to pet her, as is the protocol, she would move quickly towards me and i would feel myself on the whitehot edge of panic, the same panic i get around german shepherds and other very smart dogs. smart=panic. hmmm.
then i started talking to her and everything changed. i get close and talk softly. i say "hey girl. hey, what are you doing? how are you, beautiful?" she looks at me. she whistles. i talk to her. quietly, very quietly. we communicate. i can feel her and there is no panic. suddenly, i can pet her with no withdrawing. suddenly, we're buds.
when i think about how i won't be around her anymore, i am filled with a sense of dread and sadness like my presence somehow keeps her out of danger or...like now i won't know if she is depressed and then be able to fix it by talking to her. we won't have any more communication. next tuesday, that'll be it.
i don't know. this part of leaving my job really sucks. she's so smart. smart animals...you have to be careful. a bad life, or an abused life...much more likely. if she wasn't so smart, i wouldn't be worried.
is it like that with people too?
Schizo Eat-ffective Disorder
i have no self control. it's true. in general, if i want something, i get it. i eat it. i take it. i go there. but now i'm 36, and i'm apt to gain weight, and i have to care about what i eat because i don't want to be overweight. i don't want thick thighs. i like cute clothes. i have been able to blame a lot of my weight gain in the last year on medication. it's totally true that my antidepressants put 20 pounds on my chest, ass, stomach and thighs and now the doctors have prescribed me copious amounts of hormones in order to control the symptoms from ovary problems that i am having to endure, until tests "ok" surgery. and i'm getting bigger. and bigger.
i am here now fessing up that i have very little, if any, self-control and cannot blame all of the weight gain on meds.
for instance.
this morning, this is what i do. i go to safeway to buy a salad that they carry that i like. one trick i play on myself is i get myself excited about healthy food. this is possible in some cases and one is called the Safeway Brand Chinese Chicken Salad. it's delicious. and huge.
and they no longer carry it. so i wander the store until i settle on a big-ass fucking sandwich. great. to make myself feel better i also buy a nonfat yogurt and an orange for my breakfast. then i go to mcdonalds because my bus isn't waiting for me and i can't sit and stare and wait for it. so i go to mcdonalds and i get a meal. not even just a sandwich but a meal.
as i walk out i pinch off a piece of the hash browns. ew. i pull out the sandwich. mack mack mack i take four bites and then my bus comes. i put it away and get on. by the time i reach my work, five blocks away, i have gained enough resolve to throw it all away. and i do.
i'm sitting here at my desk now with a lesson learned. if i fail myself that miserably again, which i will, i must take a few bites and then throw it away. it's not neat. it's a waste. i don't like it, but i will do it.
it's the new rule in the land of queen schizo eat-ffective.
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