Something Evil This Way Comes

I know driving is very bad. It’s a very bad thing. It will probably be the end of North America society, I know. It is most especially bad to be driving a great honking 4×4 in the city to get to a friend’s house, a mere ten blocks away.
But sometimes there is good in the bad, and on a day, just the other day, I was doing just that, driving my great honking 4×4 from my home to a friend’s house, a mere ten blocks away.
And as I drove two things happened.

The first was I was completely smitten by the way the leaves are turning red. We don’t get so much of that in these parts and I think those deep colours are a marvelous thing, even it is about things ending and dying. At least they do it in a magnificent way. That colour of red brought up a sort of satisfied happiness that I haven’t felt in a long time, and it was so nice to feel it and just be blown away by that colour and by something that is so much bigger than me and my itsy-bitsy problems.

The second thing that happened, on the heels of the first, was I was struck in that moment by the thought that I am glad I am me and given the option, I wouldn’t want to be anyone else. Even though my life has been a shitstorm of unpleasantness and struggles for the last two years, I am glad I am who I am.

I’m not gonna say that I am happy I had cancer, but I am glad that I had the team of folks supporting me, and helping me find my way through it. I am happy that so many of the folks I know or have known over the years made a decision to show up and help. I had a really amazing group of folks, friends and loved ones and health care professionals, who did what they could to help me, and I am grateful for all that.

I could wish I had a better paying job, but I have a job that works really well with me getting my library courses so hey, I am not a bank president and I don’t have a yacht. And I know I am gonna have to squeeze to make ends meet over the next while…
But it all works for me for right now.

And I have some really good friends.
I am pretty much at the end of my rope when it comes to talking about whatever the latest crappy thing is that I am dealing with. Cuz frankly, if I didn’t know me and was just reading my text on-line, I’d say, “Whoa, that chick has a personality disorder or somesuch, cuz like Roseanne Rosannadanna said, it’s always something.”
Through the cancer, lots of folks showed up, some of them from out of the blue.
Now it’s divorce time, and lots of those same folks are still out there, propping me up with their care and attention and sweet words. I really appreciate the folks who have stepped up, especially lately, and patted me on the head, called or e-mailed to see how I am doing. Bunches of folks have made gestures to let me know that they care. Thanks.
And I am grateful to have been able to spend the last 5 – 7 years (depending on when you start counting) woven into Elaine’s life and she into mine.
Before it all went to hell on a handjack, we had the best time and had the best adventures, even when that was just going to get cat food together.

We were there for each other no matter what.
We had great vacations and we had a great time running errands. We had Christmas dinners that brought our friends together in our home and some of the best time was just the two of us at home alone.
It’s hard to stitch that gaping wound closed and wander off into the future but apparently that’s what we do now. So, this is me trying.
Dunk a chien, darlin’.

So, it’s been a rough ride and there have been losses I never anticipated and that leave me scrambling to find some new direction.

And even with all that, I am glad to be me, and wouldn’t want to be anyone else.

Thanks to everyone who has written in with their support.

The situation really really sucks. Sometimes I feel paralyzed by the grief and then I think, ‘that’s not really grief, that’s more like agony’ and then I think, ‘well sometimes it’s agony and sometimes it’s an overwhelming despair’.
I know folks go through this sort of thing all the time.
It’s funny, cuz when I was doing chemo, lots of people went out of their way to tell me how brave they thought I was. I always found that odd, since I really had a limited number of choices and I was making the best of the lousy choices I had.
And I don’t mean to be freaky, but I just don’t know how to imagine myself on the other side of this, at that point in my life where I say, “Ahh, sure it hurt like the Dickens at the time, but I see now that it’s all for the best.” I can’t ever imagine thinking this was a good thing.
I reckon that day will come, cuz I have lived through lesser heartbreaks, but damnation, sometimes the best I can do is just slip into a wee coma and wait for it to pass. Those are the good moments.

I don’t know which arsenal of personal strength I am supposed to draw on to give me the strength and hope to make my way back to shore on this one.
In some ways, it’s like I lost my sense of purpose.
How am I going to carry on with the crazy world of cancer and all those follow-up appointments without holding each other’s clammy little hands?
Who is going to hold my hand so I don’t faint when I do bloodwork?
Who is going to keep me from coming right out of my skin and punching the lab technician when I do an MRI?
I guess we get tough and figure out how to do this stuff on our own. But I ain’t looking forward to it.
Really, I am scared. I’ve already gone to a few appointments by myself, which was weird and freaky, but I guess it was a good dress rehearsal for the new world order in cancer land.

Scared, scared, and scared, but one foot in front of the other. Off we go.
So far, I seem to still be at Ground Zero but I guess I can work my way somewhere safe from there.

But, thanks to everyone. Your kind words really, really do help me.
Thank you.

You guys rawk, as the kids now say.

Really. You all help a bunch.

Thanks.

Some friends and I did the OVCA Winners Walk of Hope, sponsored by NOCA. It’s the first time the walk has happened in Vancouver.

It was a beautiful day for a walk through Van Dusen Gardens and my little team raised over $1,000. It remains to be seen, but we may break the $2,000 mark. A big thank you to everyone who sponsored me or any of the other folks on my team.

Two days ago, my brother called me to tell me that my dad was visiting my sister and had collapsed and was taken to hospital by ambulance. They diagnosed him with pneumonia and said they wanted to run some more tests on him. The pneumonia is extra distressing because he was diagnosed with COPD last year so these days any sort of lung issue is extra bad news.
They did a CT scan and found a nasty mass on his lung, which they are almost positive is cancer. They will be doing a biposy to make sure, of course, but in my medical experience, doctors don’t toss the “C word” into the conversation unless they have a pretty close-to-certain sense that they are right.

Me?

I am horrified and lonely and worried and so tired of all the hard stuff. Kind of feels like I have had my skin torn right down to the bone.

And I would rather gnaw through my own wrists than deal with my family, but you do what you have to do. I guess the upside of it all is that it means I pay more attention to the things that are really important and spend less time thinking about id-jits and stupid crap. I suppose I needed a break from that.

The Old Man. I dunno. It remains to be seen and I don’t know how much fight there is left in the dog.

Stay tuned.

I seem to have convinced myself to do this , and I seem to be dragging a few friends along for the ride.

I haven’t set myself up with a “team” on the site yet, cuz I have yet to think of a brilliant name for my team. But as soon as I have that name thing nailed, I will get set up and then, if any old internet-ers wish, you can sponsor me.

I don’t normally do this sort of thing, but obviously I think it’s pretty important.

And if you are good with creating catchy names for a bunch of queers, do let me know. I am still scratching my head and the sooner I can get a name, the sooner I can get this show on the road.

Roger Dodger.

Over and out

I just popped by Cancerbaby’s site. There is a post up there from CBF (Cancerbaby’s friend), saying they are going to take the site down on July 15th. Thankfully, they are running a bit behind schedule, because it was still up a few minutes ago. But it is going to come down and she was a great writer, and if you haven’t read her blog, you should. She was an amazing writer, and I continue to miss her and her brilliant posts that cut through all the confusion and laid the painful details out in the light of day. And, she was funny. And biting, and did I say brilliant? Go read her blog. If you read it before, go read it again. You usually have to pay money to read something this well-crafted and stunning and witty and bitter and funny and smart as anything.
Y’all should also know that I had one of those 3 month check-in visits with my oncologist, well, actually his boss because my oncologist is on vacation, and all my deets are good, beautiful and wonderful.

The old CA-125 comes in at a respectably low 8. And, as they say, I can live with that.

Beyond that, summer is moving too quickly. School is taking too much of my time. My sights are set on the wide open opportunities for hedonism in August, when my only hurdle will be hedonizing around my work life.

School is the classic balancing act of one course I really enjoy and one course that I despise. It will all be over in a few weeks.

I feel like things are improving, in little baby steps. Which is probably best because if they got absolutely great overnight, I may have been whiplashed.

There are more deep thoughts brewing. Unfortunately, you folks have to come second to my fascinating homework.

But don’t go very far. I’ll be back just as soon as I get this school work dealt with.

I hope everyone is having a lovely summer.

9 Responses to “Cape Fear”

1. tara Says:
   June 22nd, 2006 at 5:43 am i might be stranger than you, but i would ask for more butter for the popcorn if i wanted it. ya know?

   it was great to see you and watch the hiccuping HP. i had no idea this stuff was going on in your bleached head. please feel free to unload some of this stuff or just rant. otherwise i’ll have to keep reading your blog to know what’s up with you.

2. jawnbc Says:
   June 22nd, 2006 at 11:44 am this is a very good start. But there is also some insulation in these one-way modes of communication. So let your fingers do the walking. Operators are standing by (though we’re going campin Fr-Sun.

   Love you, knew all this, so there.

   JE

3. Vicki Says:
   June 23rd, 2006 at 2:28 pm From a keyboard friend+ovca sister… sorry had slight interuption, my cat LOVES to eat my hats…. There always seems to be the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Although as I get more involved in my life – my new life because the old normal life is gone – I sometimes forget that I have this cancer… I can go minutes-hours-sometimes days without really thinking about it. I think as long as the numbers are good that’s where our life is time without thinking about it… and getting our lives to its new normal.
   Hope that makes sense… I appreciate your brashness and forthright attitude toward your cancer that you write in your blog, but there are always feelings behind it. Take care and go find your new normal life.
4. Jennysue Says:
   June 23rd, 2006 at 2:34 pm All I have to say is that you just wrote out all of the word that go through my head each day!!! I also live in constant fear of recurrence. Cancerbaby’s death threw me for serious breakdown, because of the reality it represents. I must say though, I have (lately) been trying to voice my fears to more people, because it is very hard to walk around with it all by yourself. So I would suggest giving it a try and if not, keep writing about it! I am with you my friend.,
5. Liz (suburban girl) Says:
   June 24th, 2006 at 5:07 pm Spike, that “powerlines buzzing in the rain” is a perfect description of the recurrence anxiety thing. Over the last 11 months the powerlines have kept buzzing in my head but they seem farther and farther away. Ocassionally they get overwhelming once again.
   You are not alone. I tell most people I’m in remission and grateful to be here. Makes me feel good to be honest but not go into great detail.
   The old adage prepare for the worst(within reason) and hope for the best is working for me.
   Being aware of the razor’s edge has its advantages. I don’t waste my time worrying (as much) about what other people think anymore. When someone asked my daughter how she liked 1st grade and she said,”It was H-E-L-L compared to kindergarten.” I laughed instead of ducking under the table.
   Take comfort that you have people who care about you. Please know that I do and think of you often.
   Love, suburban girl
6. Liz (suburban girl) Says:
   June 26th, 2006 at 6:44 am P.S. The first months after chemo, I remember having emotional outbursts. My husband and I argued, I yelled at the children, etc. A nurse told me that that was a response to holding everything in while going through chemo. Lexapro and time helped.
   You mentioned a while back how you were looking forward to camping. I appreciate nature so much more now and being outside, gardening or hiking, comforts me and allows me to savor the moment.
   How are you doing?
7. Ladee Says:
   June 27th, 2006 at 11:10 pm Hey, Spike … Just a quick note to let you know that you’ve got folks reading this … and following along with your life. It’s not like I’ve got a lot to offer … no words of comfort, nothing sage-ly to pass along. I wish. Except that maybe … whenever I catch up with what’s going on for you, I’m sending energy along your way. I choose to believe it counts for something. Like your courage. Rage on, for as long as it serves you …..
8. Fi Says:
   July 1st, 2006 at 11:35 am Spike,

   Being an out of town “in-law” for such a long time and now having been closer, I know we haven’t spent all that much time together or talking but I figured that some of the things you just spoke of, had to be in there, how could you not feel all those emotions.

   I am not good at putting things into the written word, but here goes.

   Please know I am here if you ever want to come visit and talk, or if there is anything I can do.

   Love
   Fi

9. Femmeflame Says:
   July 16th, 2006 at 7:59 pm Hey Spike,

   You posted for friends in your life to check in. Well. I am not one of them, I am a stranger to you *grin* but I am also your neighbour – flying past your house everyday almost… sometimes more than the requisite home-work-and-home-again run for almost 3 years aware that you were going through this challenge.

   I was at the folk fest and standing watching the show Ivan had put together I saw a couple I knew had moved out of town and we were talking then an old creativewriting school buddy of mine who had just performed came to say hi to them/me and an address book was opened and there was your blog url posted.

   So you passed through my mind.

   Not that is the first time. My mom’s lymphoma came to light last year and returned this April so we are on to more chemo with less options than I would like. devastating to the pocket some would say – We say most expensive to the spirit.

   So I want you to know that I read your blog throughout last year. every now and then… and having plunged into the deeper than last year’s twilight world with no signposts, no bright lights, no all clears and nothing but wondering if I should read Dante and update his version of the seven hells….well. I think … if I could be so bold – something called surviving not only your body going awry but also someone else who was working on survivin’ too and seeing em not make….. it is a helluva thing.

   So while my mom climbs up into her mental hammock of peace and looks down her body and procedures goings on. I hang on and strip the pleasantries often exchanged without much truth to it – down to the facts without frightening the folks used to me being the supportive, witty one.

   Sometimes sapping one’s energy – staying in the fiesty, funny obnoxiously witty mode – surprised how it bounced back when I mention the dark side- which you just did. Some people run. Some are on stun and then some of us pipe up. No advice here – I’z jus’ sayin’ for me…I think I hear you
   and to he… er I mean to France with those who can’t deal with it! (that’s me chanelling my grand aunt lucille)

   I want to let you know that I’v been sending good vibes your way while getting through running past the trees around the track, past the hedge ’round your house, dodging little kids, smoking teens, baby strollers, oldladiessteamrollin’ – to catch that damn 135….even though I don’t think you and I have ever exchanged a word that I can remember.

   I’ll just say it takes more courage to tell the truth in these times- so as they would say where I am from: Come with it!

   See you meebee at BofP….

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