Fucking Pigs

Wu Tang
The Wu Tang Clan weirdly featured in my life recently. It seemed like it was just always there. I randomly fell into a conversation with my new boss about them, the first person in OH who knew who they were (and by "in Ohio" I mean the first person since moving to Ohio and works with me that knows them - dude is actually in Oklahoma). Then I was driving down the street and saw a kid wearing a Wu Tang Clan t-shirt. Then a blogger I follow mentioned the Wu Tang. I commented twice but they eventually got erased (he probably thought I was a troll). Wait, no, my comments are back so he knows I'm not a troll. I'm just some weird chick who really likes the Wu Tang. They were, after all, part of the first concert I ever attended (they opened for Rage Against the Machine... I know, right, bad ass for a first concert). Still, after years of no one knowing the Wu Tang, they featured heavily in my life recently.

Summit Submit

Broad Summit was another success. Actually, it was interesting. We had to meet a bit early because two members had Bible Study. About 90 minutes before hand, I met with, uhm, what the fuck do I call her? I'm so bad with pseudonyms but I think I call her Wonder Woman (the chick who helped me move) Anyway, she and I chatted/vented for about 30 minutes outside of work and it was really awesome. Then we all met up, had a bunch of beers and terrible for us food and bitched about work as usual. The idea that we reschedule future meetings came up because Bible Study is always on a Wednesday but the four of us who do not do Bible Study agreed that no, fuck that. For one, why should four of us reschedule for two people and for two, I sent out the invitations months ago and so if you can't skip study for one night, well, we meet at 5 and if you can only stay for 30 minutes that's fine. We can also have impromptu sessions. BS (heh) is really just so we can meet up, vent, have some non office girl time, let off some steam, and get advice. Wednesdays are perfect. In fact, we usually meet the second Wednesday of each month, right when you want to slit your wrists and just as you are pulling out the razor your calendar alerts you to the meeting. We all have various priorities and we all have to make that judgment call. Come if you can. We'll welcome you.

Medical Stuff

I found out in a weird way that my neurologist is leaving the clinic and going to Yale. My office had a diabetes screening and as I was waiting for my results (all clear), the lady who checked us in and I got talking. Turns out we were diagnosed by the same doc and that we saw the same neuro. She told me he was leaving but that they were going to take care of the patients. I hope so because it was a bitch to get into this clinic.

In more troubling news is our Johan. I'm going on a business trip to the Irving office in a couple of weeks (Hunter and Austen, you'd better not let your wives know) and so will have to board piggy again. They will only board if the animals are up to date on their check ups so I brought him in. Johan has a little growth, a little lump like a pimple, on his back. He didn't let me know that it was there, didn't complain or seem upset; I just noticed it one day when I was petting him. I hoped it would go away but it didn't. The vet told me it wasn't normal but that he didn't know what it was. If it gets bigger, we'll have to have it removed. So I'm to keep an eye on it.

I'm not pleased, having something that isn't normal with Johan. I'm not pleased that the vet couldn't tell me anything about it. But it wasn't his usual doc because she is on maternity leave until August. He didn't seem like he was as thorough as usual doc but then, he did things behind closed doors for the most part so maybe he did all the usual stuff (I know he checked Johan's mouth because he commented on how that was the worst part with pigs and that Johan's teeth are fine). And, to his credit, he did tell me that I should be giving piggy more veggies, 50% of his diet (his diet is mostly hay, a small amount of pellets, and then a piece of bell pepper and a handful of cilantro or parsley a day). So pig and I went to Kroger afterwards (again... we always seem to hit the store after the vet) and I bought carrots. Like many pet owners, I'm more concerned about this than I am about my neurologist issue.*

What if he has to have the mass removed? What do you do for that, anesthesia, surgery, overnights in the hospital? What if they want to do imaging on him? How much am I willing to spend on him?

Hear that? That is the sound of my burrowing my head in the sand in order to ignore the situation. 

Oy

 I am in the shittiest of moods today. I got a letter last night saying I now owe $120 on my bullshit ticket. It's a camera red light thing and the picture shows me turning right on the red where there is no sign saying this is prohibited. I looked up the code, found I was in the right, and then called the mother fuckers who then said it was because my four wheels did not all come to complete stop. Bullshit. I know they did because I know that intersection and at that time of day, it is fucking busy so of course you have to slow to a stop. And there is a mother fucking cop in the picture behind me! I know the cameras are to allow cops to do other stuff but shouldn't the City be a bit embarrassed about that? So bullshit but I'm paying it and including a nasty letter, a copy of the picture, and a copy of the ordinance that says this is bullshit. I'm sure some admin will just charge my credit card and then wipe his or her ass with my carefully thought out and strongly worded letter.

Also, Hunter convinced me to keep my GPS in my glove box. It was stolen last night.

Also, my boss routinely stands me up for meetings and then gives me five minutes to talk about something I have no clue about.
 

Books

And finally, on a better note, books! I really enjoyed Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn, so much so that I borrowed Dark Places, her second novel, and read it in a day and a half. Certain things I like about this author before reading anything about her:

• She seems to always place her stories in the middle west, Kansas and Missouri. I assume that is where she is from since people always say to write what you know but I like when authors base their books in towns that are similar to their home towns. I don't know why that is but I do. I think it's because they give you a better picture of those areas. 
• She writes women differently than anyone I've ever read before.
• She's damned good with a twist.

So I finished Dark Places, liked it so much that I reserved Sharp Objects, Flynn's first novel, and looked her up on line (fucking LOVE google). The "about the author" page is charming but, even more enticing, is this little tidbit. I love ballsy, honest broads and Flynn strikes me as being one. I've never heard a woman express this sort of sentiment and so she impressed me. So I highly recommend this author and I like her work a lot; however, that being said, it is a bit disturbing what some people can imagine.

*I called eldest brother about Johan. I called my eldest brother who features so rarely in this blog that he doesn't have a pseudonym. He told me, very cavalierly, that Johan most likely has a tumor, that it is cancer, and that none of his pigs ever had such a growth. And he said it with a nastiness that it made me wonder what I might have done to him. He and his wife have had guinea pigs for years, hence my going to him.  He was all but gleeful with the news. I chalk it up as a lesson in stupidity because what the fuck was I thinking going to him?????

Top Shelf

I Said No, No, No! 
Where have I been? I've been 2,500 miles away visiting my Viking. She had bilateral iliac stent surgery, trying to get blood flowing through her legs. She developed a clot that didn't break up with heparin and nitropatches so they had to do more surgery. And I was so fucked up with what has been going on in my life that I needed my momma to take care of me.

So I booked a flight and flew to the desert. I have my issues with my mother and I complain and bitch about her. But one thing I always tell people is that she is incredibly strong. I didn't really understand how strong until this trip. I saw my beloved Viking in the hospital and she looked so frail and weak. Things got bad, she couldn't stand on her own, and mom had to spend a lot of time in the hospital. Then they transferred V to a rehab facility. Mom and I went to drop off her clothing and we ended up staying for awhile because it was evident that V was sicker than we'd been told. I watched as a nurse helped V up off the bed into a wheelchair. V had a lot of trouble and was wearing a diaper. I felt traumatized seeing that happen. That's when I realized that my mother has been watching this sort of thing for years. She's been sitting in a chair listening to V bitch, hallucinate, and cry because of the pain. I don't know if you've ever watched a loved one suffer, but if you have, imagine sitting with that person for ten hours at a time. Imagine seeing that person needing help to stand just to get into a wheelchair in order to get to the bathroom only to not make it in time. It is heartbreaking and I couldn't handle it. I dealt with it for maybe two hours. My mom has been dealing with it, witnessing it, and taking care of it for years. That is strength. One of my last nights there, mom had to go back to the hospital at 11pm when the rehab facility called and told her they were transferring V to a general hospital because she was too ill. Mom went and didn't come home until 3:30 a.m. She was called by the admitting physician at 4:00 a.m. She got no real sleep and was up the next day to go back to the hospital at 8 a.m. Then she came home around noon to take me to lunch and visit with me before taking me to the airport.

That is strength. She does it on her own. I went to see my Viking and be taken care of by my mother and I ended up treating my mom to various meals and cleaning parts of her home. In the end, everyone assumed I went out to take care of her. She even felt bad when she was driving me to the airport, saying she felt bad that I did not get pampered, that I had come out for a ruined trip. She asked if I regretted it but I didn't and I don't. I'm glad I was able to be there in some small way. She had one full day with me when she was able to window shop and eat out and relax. She gets so few breaks that I feel good that I was able to provide her with one. And I admire her all the more for the strength that she has.

First Class All the Way

The best part of my trip turned out to be the flight home. My flight out was terrible. The plane was an old one, tiny, with no room whatsoever. I'm not huge, I'm probably just average for an overweight American. But I couldn't read without lifting my arms up or else I'd hit the arm rests. I was in the middle, which is always awesome, and the seat in front of me was all up in my grill, as the kids say. My overhead light didn't work and if I wanted to use my tray table, I had to remove all the god damn magazines to put it up or down. I spilled shit all over my bag and felt like I was bothering my neighbors every time I went to get something.

So I splurged for an upgrade on the way home and experienced my first ever flight in first class. It really is all that you could imagine. You get to board first and as soon as you sit down the flight attendant offers you a glass of wine (or beer, or soda, or water, or whatever cocktail you might want). They give you a real meal! Not a box with a sandwich and some grapes but a real meal. I had ravioli with a mushroom cream sauce. That's what she said when she gave me my choices. Do you know what they brought me? A pre meal savory snack back followed by my ravioli with a side salad and a plate with smoked salami, fresh mozzarella, a gouda. Then she came out with a bread basket. I had a small wine glass that she kept refilling and when I couldn't eat more, she asked if I had room for dessert, delicious cheese cake.

Oh, and that wine? From a full size wine bottle, not those little ones they sell for $7 a pop.

And soooo much leg room! I was obviously the only person there who was a first class newbie and I was totally enjoying it. I even took pictures of the leg room and my food and my wine glass. The flight attendant took my picture and people behind me asked her why. I'm sure they thought it was hilarious when she told them. It was just so fucking rad. My friend told me I could have gone to sleep (night flight and I arrived home at 1:10 a.m.) but I told her "I couldn't! I had to stay awake to enjoy every minute of it!"

I will admit to feeling a bit snobby and awful when I breezed through the security line without any real wait (though I ended up being screened) and when I was sitting there with a glass of wine as the others slowly boarded and some ended up having to gate check their bags. But I think I've been ruined for coach and will have to plan way in advance before traveling again so that I can save up. I even signed up for the dividend program with hopes of being able to send J on a first class flight one day because it was amazing.

I don't know if it was on my bucket list, I'll have to look. But everyone should fly first class at least once.

Emo Brother

I have been weirdly emotional for the past few weeks. I feel a tremendous about of guilt for feeling like I'm over J so quickly but yet I am weepy and moved to tears very easily. I feel fine but I'm all fucked up. It doesn't make sense.

Yesterday, I started to really miss my older brother in a major way. Not my brother who moved to the UAE, but my other brother, the one I haven't spoken to in a real way for maybe ten or twelve years, the brother who was never really that much my friend. I don't know why, but I missed the hell out of him so tried to call him. He was working so I spoke with his wife, my ever indomitable sister-in-law, who probably regretted picking up the phone seeing as I dissolved into little pieces and puddles. I just wanted to hear his voice.

And I think I do know why I missed him. S is a person from my past. We grew up together and lived under the same roof for eighteen years. We lost our father, experienced pretty poor times, went on family vacations, bickered, fought, and occasionally laughed together. I haven't seen him since our middle brother got married. We don't keep in touch, at all. But we still exist. S is from my past, which is over and done, which makes it safe. S is my history and the certainty that goes along with knowing what happened and how it turned out.

And I just craved that last night. I received notification from my physician's office that my iron stores are low and so that is why my blood count was screwy. Anemia, take iron, no big deal. I was relieved, obviously, but it still triggered something in me that caused me to flip the fuck out. The future is uncertain and unknown and it terrifies me. I don't know what is going to happen with my disease. I don't know what is going to happen with my marriage. My follow up appointment looms ahead of me and J is constantly on my mind, his absence and my silence gaping like a cavern just in view. I can see it, I know it is there, but I'm trying my hardest to stay still and not take even one step forward because I don't think I can handle the depth of that cavern.

I never appreciated how awesome the past really is, the fact that it is over. It's like finishing a suspenseful novel or movie and feeling a sense of relief when it is done and you know what happened. I think I view S as a reminder that things have been awful before and that we have both gotten through it. Like I said, our father died and we saw tough times. But we got through it and we both saw our own personal shitty times later in life. His wife had part of her leg amputated due to cancer for fuck's sake. And that is still going on. She is doing well but it is never over. This too shall pass and no matter hard it gets and no matter how painful, I'll deal with it. What other choice do I have?

I need to just suck it up now. I need to just remind myself that getting hysterical isn't going to help anything. Yes, talking to my extremely kind neighbor last night, crying and being allowed to just get it out, was nice and helpful, but I need to get my shit together. The diagnosis was made in June - it isn't going to change so I need to just fucking deal with it. The separation... well, that I don't know about. But I need to remember that I do have a life and that I should probably live it, not just cry and hide.

And, most importantly, I need to do these things that I tell myself, not just write them down.