December 24, 2006

It's Christmastime in the city

A quick update before a longer essay-type post: I am stone-free! Yay!

I had the lithotripsy on Tuesday the 19th, and I am told that the kidney stone was very soft and was completely pulverized by the sound waves. Huzzah! The stent came out at the same time. I was in some fairly minor discomfort due to the stent removal; the lithotripsy discomfort has been intermittent and mostly tolerable.

My only recourse at this point is to drink lots of water; we'll never know about the composition of the stone, because it was so completely OBLITERATED that there isn't anything to analyze. (I must add that I find this minorly bogus -- I know I analyzed lots of crap in chem class that didn't have any visible chunks in it -- why can't they just spectroscope my urine?) Ah well.

Thanks for all the many many well wishes! I am very happy to have a pain-free Christmas!

Posted by Rose at 11:39 PM
Comments (0)

December 18, 2006

I live with the fear that my spirit will be broken

Taking a whole lot of risks these days, I certainly am.

My homework from therapy this week is to notice when I feel fear, and to acknowledge it and learn to coexist with it, without needing to act in response. I spent a lot of time talking to Barbara about how I think fear shaped both my parents' lives, and how it really very clearly determined how they parented me: My dad was afraid I would turn out like him, so he had to protect me from that terrible fate; my mother was afraid she would lose me (her mother had thirteen pregnancies, and only three children survive) and so had to protect me from everything in the world. It's a real wonder that I'm not more nervous than I am, I think.

I've been facing a lot of fear physically -- pain is no picnic, as I think Montaigne might've said at some point -- but what I've come to realize is that the fear is an emotion, a response to a physical state in this case. And since I know what is causing the pain, and we have a plan about how to remove the source of the pain, it's been pretty easy to master the fear. I tell myself, "Yep. Sure do feel afraid. But it's going to be okay soon." And the fear dissipates.

The other fear I'm facing is purely emotional. I've fallen wildly, madly, solidly in love with a man who lives in San Francisco. It's a lot less scary than some relationships I've tackled; he loves me too, for one thing. But loving is scary, it just is. Figuring out how a new person handles himself; feeling vulnerable and exposed and silly -- those problems come with the territory, no matter what the relationship looks like. I've got the additional stress of his being so far away, though, and learning how to negotiate needs long-distance is tricky.

Technology is helping lots. There's Flickr, and Twitter, and blogs, and email, and IM, and text messaging, and gosh -- it seems impossible that people ever attempted long-distance relationships without all that! But typing *hug* isn't really the same as giving or getting one, no matter how emotively I work my keyboard.

Which brings me to the other thing that's helping, which is Buddhism and meditation. I like that I've got ancient tech and modern tech BOTH on my side in this. When I miss him, I remember that everything is impermanent. I remember to live in the moment, and I am having lots of good moments. I consider that he is an *addition* to my life, and every bit of time I get to spend with him (in person, on IM, on the phone, reading what he and all his clever friends have written online) is a plus; when he is not with me, he is simply Not With Me, he hasn't disappeared forever. And as I read recently (and am paraphrasing): "The relationship is what happens when you are together -- if you have doubts and worries and upsetting thoughts when you are apart, set those aside and reconsider them when you are both there." I'd love to have heard that advice a long, long time ago, I tell you what. But I'm very happy that I heard it before embarking on a long-distance relationship.

So. I live in interesting times, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

More soon on Mom stories. Drama! Romance! Treachery! Pancho Villa!

Posted by Rose at 10:31 PM
Comments (0)

December 14, 2006

I truly need a year down in New Orleans

Wow! I had a great time last night, IN LOUISIANA!

Went to see two friends who left NYC for upstate last year, and have moved again, to NO, for work; my friend Sondra is teaching at UNO, and her husband is a cook.

I drove down, and Argyle asked immediately if I'd like a drink. So he made us Manhattans, deftly and quickly, and suddenly instead of sitting in my mom's little apartment hearing about god, I was sitting in Uptown New Orleans drinking and eating cheese and listening to jazz and catching up with old friends. And Argyle works in Algiers, right near the fish market, so he'd picked up three pounds of enormous shrimp, and made us New Orleans Barbecued Shrimp.

Short method/recipe: Smash a bunch of garlic cloves and put them in a baking dish. Shake some good hot sauce over them. Squeeze in a few limes, then put the lime halves in as well. Arrange shrimp over garlic, etc. When dish is topped up with shrimp, squeeze in more lime juice, shake on more hot sauce, sprinkle with herbs. Chop up more butter than you think you need and cover the dish with it. Bake until shrimp are pink and done. Eat with hands, making enormous mess. Remember to suck the heads and lick your fingers. Gorge until done.

We ate the shrimp with local wine (who knew! Local New Orleans wine!) which was great. Then we had coffee and Christmas cookies, and THEN we went out to the Spotted Cat to hear Va Va Voom, my new favorite band. Sat in the bar, drinking bourbon and listening to fine, eclectic gypsy jazz, with friends at my side, and cute girls playing hot fiddle and sax (and cute guys playing awesome accordion and guitars!), and mmmmm.

Maybe Louisiana is not all god and home and family! I forgot! Am planning t0p-s33krit trip to New Orleans with lovely new boyfriend, NOT TELLING MOM. How fun would that be! ALL THE FUN.

Posted by Rose at 01:15 PM
Comments (0)

December 13, 2006

Never knew how much that muddy water meant to me

Ah, lordy. I'm in Louisiana, ambivalent homeland. Have been here since Monday, here until Friday, having superintense Mom-time. It's wildly emotionally exhausting. I took my medicine this morning, out of my by-the-day pill container, and was stunned that it was only the second morning I'd woken up in Gonzales. HOW CAN THAT BE?

I'm feeling a bit more balanced today than I have on Monday or Tuesday; my accent has mostly returned, so maybe people are not staring Quite So Much (though of course they still stare).

There were many stories this morning, over coffee and huevos revueltos con chorizo; the hardest part was when my mom confronted me over something that's bothered her for three years. When she expressed shock and surprise at how unusual my wedding was (a long fun story for another day, children), my dear friend Todd (who has known me since I was 14) said to her, "What? Did you not KNOW your daughter was weird?"

In fact, she did not. This is not because I wasn't always weird, but because she has never quite understood who I was or what I was like. She has just always totally ignored anything about me that didn't fit in with what she wanted to believe, and so yeah, she was surprised when there was a sort of WHOLE DAY of bizarre wonderful weirdness. (For the record, my wedding was one of the Very Best Parties I have ever thrown, and to my knowledge, the only person, out of nearly a hundred, who didn't have a good time was my mom. Eh. That's a pretty good success rate!)

So. The fascinating stories I heard today *from* my mom, though, bear typing out. I guess the main one was about her courtship and marriage to my father; I'd heard bits of this story lots of times, but this time I got the whole thing in one go, and there were many amazing details.

But! Yikes! My Very Limited Internet Time is up -- I have to go be a good daughter. But I want to write this down! But but but.

NB: My mother is now aware enough of the internet to think that it is frightening. *sigh*

Posted by Rose at 02:26 PM
Comments (4)

December 04, 2006

I've got your old ID and you're all dressed up like the Cure

It's me! I'm home! Yay!

Francis did a rather brilliant job of providing updates, so I'm here to give you the final score and the color commentary.

Sunday afternoon I saw a urologist who told me that because the kidney stone was so fucking enormous (or words to that effect), there was no chance in hell I'd pass it on my own, and they'd have to pulverize it. In the meantime, however, my kidney was near exploding, because the stone was blocking my ureter (hence all the WILDLY EXCRUCIATING PAIN OMG). So he felt he should put in a stent to open up the passage.

My first reaction upon hearing this was, "Hmm. That sounds plausible. I wonder what Google has to say about it?" But I was in the ER with NO GOOGLE and had to make a medical decision just using the brain in my head, instead of relying on the lobe of my brain I keep in the ether. I said "Hell yes" and he told me he'd do it at 7pm. The procedure itself was Not So Bad, although I felt a bit shaky just before it -- the sort of shaky with repeating thoughts of "I have just signed a consent form to let them put WHAT? WHERE? Dude!" But it all went just fine.

Afterwards I got my first full night's sleep in several days, even with a catheter and a IV drip -- it was Just That Good to be not in pain and in a real bed. My room-mate tells me (because *her* medical problem and treatments kept her up all night) that not only did I snore (probably because I was heavily drugged and flat on my back) but that I also talked in my sleep. Something about someone who "had no respect". I wish I knew more! The idea of things I say in my sleep *fascinates* me.

This morning was all straightforward; I had a list of things to accomplish before they'd let me out. They removed the catheter, I had breakfast, I peed on my own (yay!), I saw the urologist. And then they gave me some prescriptions and let me go. Wheeeeeee! I have never been so happy to brush my teeth, or take a hot shower, or lie on my own dear couch knitting. Mmmmm.

The lithotripsy is going to be in a couple of weeks, when I get back from a short trip to DC and a longer trip to see my mom. He could have done it on Wednesday, but said that since the stent-insertion is a little traumatic, and lithotripsy is a little traumatic, he'd rather space them out more, and having the stent in for two weeks is not a big deal. I'm not in any kidney-related pain at all anymore, so I'm inclined to agree.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for all the nice notes and calls and everything -- it's made the whole thing a little more bearable to be able to remember that My Team is enormous and loving and wonderful, and the kidney stone is just a little 7mm scrap of mineral. We will vanquish the fucker!

There are many funny human-interest anecdotes I could relate, but I should go lie back down on the couch. Here's one, though. My room-mate, Peggy, was 63, a lifelong Windsor Terrace resident (she lives right around the corner from me). She said very sweet, but slightly strange, things to me all night and morning. "Are you a writer? You have a beautiful vocabulary," is one example. This morning she sat chatting with me about her life, which I drew her out on. Somewhere in there she asked, "So, is that goth? What you do with your hair and that little earring over your eye?" I let her know that I've got my own thing going on, and it doesn't so much have a name. (^_^)

Posted by Rose at 05:19 PM
Comments (4)

December 03, 2006

The drums march along at the clip of an IV drip

Hello again, everyone -- Rose is still "in hospital", as they say "across the pond", so it continues (albeit not for much longer) to fall to me to bring you updates. She's had the stent put in and is, at the moment, catheterized, so that the incredible amount of saline solution they've been pumping into her will have somewhere to go. Everything seems to have gone perfectly smoothly, and when I left, she had shaken off the anesthesia and was chilling out comfortably with a book on her Palm Pilot.

The catheter comes out in the morning, and then she'll be discharged not long after, and should be home a little before noon tomorrow. The night nurse, Irving, confirmed (or so it sounded) that her lithotripsy appointment (to break up the stone) will be on Wednesday; in most cases that procedure doesn't require an overnight stay, and hopefully that will hold true in Rose's case.

Thanks for all your supportive comments!

Posted by Francis at 11:43 PM
Comments (1)

This is our emergency

Hello, everyone. Francis here, with an update about the state of the Rose. We spent another night in the ER -- this one didn't have the same bureaucratic hellpit sort of feel that Tuesday night's visit had, but it still took forever for Rose to be seen by a doctor, because apparently there's never really a good night to go to the emergency room -- and, in fact, Rose is still in the process of spending the night there. But I get ahead of myself.

Rose has been having some pretty intense kidney pain over the past couple days, which we and her doctor have been assuming is to do with the post-strep inflammation that was previously diagnosed. She's been on Percocet for the pain, which was helping tremendously, but then this afternoon, while we were at the Brooklyn Museum, the pain went through the roof, and the Percocet didn't help at all. Rose called Dr. Carpenter, who apologetically said, yeah, you need to go to the emergency room, I'm afraid. We called all the car services in the area, none of whom had cars available, and our friend Adam came to the rescue and picked us up at the museum. Mostly my reaction to learning that someone owns a car in New York City is a kind of aghast awe, like, "Whoa, you wrestle cobras for a living? That's intense," but I can see how it comes in handy now and again, and thank goodness some of our friends are willing to bite that bullet.

Anyway, they finally found Rose a room in the ER, and I'm sure she will have many details to relate upon her return about the nice medical student who was very bad at putting in an IV, etc., but the upshot is, they gave her a CAT scan (and -- after much anticipation -- some pain medication that worked) and she's got a rather big kidney stone (7 mm) in her right kidney. This would also account for all the symptoms she's been having, so it seems quite possible that the whole strep thing was a red herring. We'll see.

So she's been admitted to the hospital, and is waiting for a bed to open up so they can move her upstairs from her nook in the emergency room. Until about an hour ago, she and I were both napping uncomfortably in her room, and when we both awoke from our fitful slumbers she firmly sent me on my way to get some sleep that could not be described as "in a swivel chair leaning on a sink". Happily, right before I left, Rose noticed that the reclined chair which she had been having a not-very-comfortable time sleeping in looked like the sort of thing that could be adjusted, and I managed to figure out the controls (having played many Myst games, and thus being very practiced at figuring out mysterious machines that don't come with instructions) and make it be more flat and horizontal, the better to keep her comfortable and able to sleep until they get her to a real bed.

There will be more to report in a little while (I would say "tomorrow morning", but it is already 6:30 a.m.), when Rose sees the urologist. Probably what will happen is that they will do they thing where they break up the kidney stone by shooting sound waves at it. No idea how quickly they'll be able to get the procedure done. Hopefully, Rose will be home in time to write the next update herself. Wish her luck.

Posted by Francis at 06:37 AM
Comments (7)

November 30, 2006

I piece by piece replace myself and the steel and circuits will make me whole

Update!

I was getting better, but now I'm feeling worse. It's the same thing, and my doctor still thinks it's nothing to "worry" about, while at the same time starting me on a diuretic and an antibiotic, and giving me Percocet for pain.

Because, you see, I am in a lot of pain. (Not at the moment -- Percocet, yay!) But last night, and then again just now: WORST PAIN OF MY LIFE. Who knew kidneys could cause so much pain? I mean, I know kidney stones made Montaigne want to die, and I know that people are always getting sucker-kicked in the kidneys in movies. But dude, seriously: You do not want your kidneys fucked up.

Here's the thing. I have trouble asking for people to take care of me when I'm sick, due to all sorts of stuff too wearisome to go into. But even I can tell that NOW IS THE TIME TO ASK.

I would like to be fussed over, please. Send me funny links to things, call, email, IM me if I'm online. I'm sick, and kind of not-so-secretly-worried that this is seriouser than we hope it will be, and even if it is going to resolve soon, it still sucks HORRIBLY. It's scary to feel this bad.

[NB: I think the above is all in coherent English, but I am *stoned* on Percocet right now.]

Posted by Rose at 01:30 PM
Comments (1)

November 29, 2006

Well, I'm fine, I'm alright, it's just me, you should expect it by now

post-infectious glomerulonephritis. Eeeeeek!

Came home from my wonderful Thanksgiving in Boston pissing blood. Freaked out, called doctor, went in. She took a bunch of lab samples and told me we'd know more Real Soon Now. Yesterday (Tuesday) I felt crappy but acceptable. But yesterday night I was having symptoms of high blood pressure (ringing in my ears, dizziness, headache) and she told me to go into the ER. She was very apologetic, and with good reason: I ended up spending the entire night there, twelve full hours.

I'm not writing about this just to whinge, though. A miraculous thing happened last night. I endured the strain of twelve hours in the emergency room with emotional strength and good humor, and it is all because of the meditating. I feel kind of humble, that it's taken me 35 years to learn to actually be smart.

Continue reading "Well, I'm fine, I'm alright, it's just me, you should expect it by now"

Posted by Rose at 05:43 PM
Comments (3)

November 24, 2006

Get me on the boil and reduce me to a simmering wreck with a slow kiss to the back of my neck

Oh, so much laughter, so much cooking, so much love. What a wonderful day yesterday was, start to finish!

Here are notes on dinner, which Debby and I think may be our best Thanksgiving effort EVAR. Subtitled "How you can tell that although we have assimilated, Todd and I were raised in the wilds of south Louisiana."

Snack was lovely paté, brought by new parents Josh and Judy. We'd told them they only needed to bring themselves, but they decided to show that they can still shop with the cleverest of them. V. yummy.

Throughout the day, Debby and I were somehow in seekrit competition to see which of us could suggest the most outrageous use of animal fat in our dinner. I think perhaps each was hoping to shock the other, to push boundaries until the other said No! We cannot do that! But we never reached that point, and the results were astounding.

We started out by frying breakfast sausage in butter, for the cornbread stuffing. Then we saved the butter/porkfat to use to a.) baste the turkey, and b.) sub in for butter in the biscuits. Mmmmm.

Here's our menu:

Heirloom turkey, brined with salt, sugar, and peppercorns, basted in butter and porkfat. Wild success.

Cornbread dressing, included sausage, half-and-half, and a bunch of very usual ingredients. So delicious.

Mashed potatoes and celery root. The celery root adds a bit of sweetness and lightness to the potatoes. Perfection.

Gravy. I minced up the offal (just heart and liver) and added in the bits of meat from the neck, which we'd made stock with (and added in some duck stock Debby just HAPPENED TO HAVE in her freezer). The gravy was thickened with a bit of cornstarch. Best gravy we've ever made. Rich, dark, meaty -- she and I were ready to pack in everything else and just dip biscuits in gravy for dinner.

Biscuits. Buttermilk biscuits from my favorite recipe (which I shall try to remember to transcribe). V. simple. But added in the porkfat to the called-for butter, which made them extra special this time. God, I love biscuits.

Collard greens. Cooked down with bacon, with a bit of homemade Inner Beauty hot sauce added for piquancy. These were bitter green perfection.

Squash. Butternut and acorn squash, baked with butter, mashed with maple syrup and soy sauce. A last minute addition to the menu because Debby was AFRAID THERE WOULDN'T BE ENOUGH FOOD, because she is just that sort of cook. And I love her for it, because if we hadn't made the squash we wouldn't have had the cooing and fussing and moaning that ensued as we ate the squash.

Dessert was pecan pie, made properly by Todd, with cane syrup in addition to dark Karo syrup. I'll dig up his recipe sometime; and also, caramel pumpkin tart, from the current issue of Gourmet, which turned out splendidly. Sort of a deep-dish pumpkin pie. I subbed in Todd's favorite pie crust recipe, as I did not have my own handy, and it was great, and clearly better than the requested one. We also grated fresh ginger in addition to powdered. Mmmm.

Josh and Judy also brought us ginger ice cream and pumpkin ice cream, from the local dairy in their town. Again, we'd have made do without this, but how could we refuse to let them contribute, even though their beautiful infant is only TWO WEEKS OLD. The ice cream really made the dessert course -- they were perfect with the pies.

Oh we were full. Stuporous. Sat around reading a Taschen book of atrocious and wonderful ads from the 70s, which continually made us ask, "Magazines thought that was okay to run? Good lord!"

And we laughed and we laughed all day, about nothing and everything, and it was a perfect day. One of many in my future, I am certain.

Posted by Rose at 08:56 AM
Comments (4)

November 23, 2006

So sign me up, if you're offering another dance

It's Thanksgiving, and as I have a lot to be thankful for right now, I thought I'd get on that.

Attentive folks might have noticed that the tenor of my posts has changed significantly over the last couple of months, and it's true: I'm happy!

This morning I had a lovely omen: I woke up, rested and content, and saw my husband sleeping and was filled with love. I watched him sleep for a couple minutes, then reached over to check my clock, just as my alarm was about to go off. [Alarm on holiday due to need to COOK COOK COOK.] I win!

The nature of my happiness goes much deeper than that, though. Here's how I see it: For the last several years, I have been standing on one side of an enormous chasm, thinking that things would be better on the other side. Every so often I gear up and toss myself across, without quite enough momentum to make it, and down I tumble onto the rocks. With great effort I crawl back to my starting point, wait awhile, then get to looking at the chasm thinking, "Huh. I think it'd be better OVER THERE."

This time I finally worked up enough speed and force and will to make it all the way over! I am on the other side, and I am here to tell you: THE GRASS IS GREENER.

The thing that's so different is that instead of fixing the proximal problem, then sitting around waiting for a new problem, which has been my MO for oh-so-long, I've finally fixed the main thing that's been wrong, my inability to actually appreciate how much there is about my life that is truly wonderful.

So I'm thankful for the meta thing, but here's what I'm thankful for right now in particular:

My health. I know that'll sound a bit nuts, as I've been having some problems, but really, on the whole, I am very healthy. And someday I'll be less healthy than I am now. And right now, I can do yoga and walk in the park and travel and get around town and have sex and basically do everything I want to do with my body, with only very minor limitations. Yay!

My work. I love copyediting, and I love that I get to do it for pay. I also love doing it for special friends and good causes, and there's been some of that this year, too, and that makes me feel really good.

My city. Every time I think I couldn't possibly love NYC more, I discover something new about it that I adore completely. I am home.

My friends. Brilliant, talented, compassionate, funny -- they stand by me through ridiculous trials with good grace, they celebrate my happiness with pure joy -- I have the best friends in the world.

My lovers. Polyamory has been quite an adventure, but I have learned really important stuff even from the relationships that seem to have not worked out. Furthermore, right now all my poly is INSANELY POSITIVE poly, and I am deliriously happy. And everyone likes everyone and there's this whole networked chosen family radical community thing going on and OMG I'm making the life I want to live. Yes I am.

My husband. The most important person in my life, the hub of my universe, my companion and friend and lover and entertainment committee chairman: I have chosen wisely.

Yes, truly, I am in love with the world. Filled with bliss. That's tempered with understanding how I got here, of course, but that makes it all the more precious.

Posted by Rose at 12:02 AM
Comments (4)

November 15, 2006

When I was an itty-bitty baby my mama would rock me in my cradle

So, as promised, more noodling about my mom.

A few years ago I had a flash of insight that started me along the path to better understanding and forgiving my mom for my childhood. I think I was about 31, and having some health problems of my own, and I suddenly realized that at 31, my mom had kidney stones. Now if you get kidney stones, it still surely sucks, but they blast them out with sound waves and give you some dietary advice and you go on your way. When my mom got them, it was 1976. Hers were far-advanced, and stuck in her kidneys themselves. She had two operations, each of which left an enormous bisecting scar around her middle. She was in hospital for weeks at a time, recuperating. She was only 31, barely spoke English, had a five-year-old daughter and an intermittently employed husband, and lived in a trailer. This was not her beautiful life, the one she thought she was signing up for when the handsome American fell madly in love with her.

I remembered/realized all that, and I was filled with so much compassion for her. My heart nearly broke, thinking about how hard her life turned out to be, after she'd thought it was All Going To Be Okay. I gave the rest of my childhood more thought, and really felt how hard it had all been, my dad reclusive and odd, the penny-pinching, me being strange and bookish. And the endless health problems. On top of which, she was clearly manic-depressive. So she'd freak out, get anxious and twitchy and irritable, and clean the house top to bottom, yell at me and Daddy, and then collapse in a pile of tears, begging our forgiveness. And that was all *before* she was crippled by rheumatoid arthritis, or incapacitated by endometriosis.

Feeling that compassion for my mother softened me a lot, and made it easier to bear my disappointment at how our relationship has gone. But part of me resented this. Part of me felt like, "I am making this huge effort to understand my mother, and she is doing nothing of the sort! She isn't trying at all! Fuck this!" I felt superior, and I felt hurt, and it was all kind of shitty.

I started seeing a new therapist this fall, and one of the first things that came up was my discussion with her of my changing feelings toward my mother. I explained that I used to be barely able to stand my mom, that she upset me so badly I couldn't contemplate her, but that this had shifted, because I now understand how hard her life was when I was growing up, and I forgive her. Barbara looked at me levelly, and asked, "So how was it for you?" I said it was uncomfortable, unpleasant. She looked at me with a whole universe of sadness, and said, "I hardly think a five-year-old would use the words 'unpleasant' or 'uncomfortable'. How was it for you, growing up around her?"

And I lost it.

I started sobbing, and I told her how terrified of my mother I'd been. How she would shout, and I wouldn't ever know what I'd done wrong, because I always tried *so hard* to do everything right. How my teachers were always full of praise for me, and I often wished I could just live at school. How I decided she was unreliable, and not-to-be-trusted, and how I'd try as best I could to avoid her. And the whole time I cried.

Barbara explained that until I can confront my own sadness around all that, it's never going to get better. That learning how to *not run away* from that sadness, my ur-sadness, really, is one of the big keys to making sure that I never have to go through all the crap, the depressions and anxieties and insecurities and mood troubles and fear, ever again.

She also explained that it wasn't fair, that little children deserve to have mothers they can run *to*, not *from*, and that my anger and resentment at my mom are a natural reaction. My intellectual forgiveness, my understanding of *why* she acted as she did, is a good start, but I also have to forgive myself for having hated her and being afraid of her.

It has turned out that the one session was a sort of emotional tipping point, that it shifted my whole understanding of my relationship with my mom. I've been doing a lot of work with sitting with my difficult emotions, and it's all been incredibly productive. I'm not running away anymore. And the talks I had with my mom last week are one result.

Posted by Rose at 11:13 AM
Comments (1)

November 13, 2006

This house is full of, full of, full of fight!

[x-posted from LJ, for maximal coverage -- comment wherever you like]

Well, I've had some unsettling news today. I had a bad pap smear a couple of months ago, and then followed that up with a colposcopy last week, which is a biopsy procedure. I've got high-grade cervical dysplasia, and will be having an in-office surgical procedure (LEEP) the first week of January.

I can see that my future includes becoming a vocal advocate of HPV vaccination for young'uns. If we're willing to vaccinate kids to keep them from getting fucking CHICKEN POX, why aren't we vaccinating them to keep them from getting cervical cancer, or having scary surgical procedures? Because it involves sex.

Gah, sometimes I hate my country. But I am going to change the world, yes I am, oh yes.

(I should make clear that I feel *really lucky* right now. I have clever, kind doctors involved in my care, who are totally cool with me being a pervert (we discussed what my sex dos and don'ts for January include), and I have really decent insurance, and this "dysplasia" is ten years off from being cancer. It's serious, but it's going to be okay.)

Posted by Rose at 07:20 PM
Comments (1)

November 12, 2006

Mama thinks she spoilt me rotten

Had a great talk with my mom this morning. That's not the most surprising thing in the world for most folks, I suppose, but we're talking about My Mom here, not the Platonic Ideal of Mom.

It's particularly surprising because she was Crazy Bugfuck Furious with me just a few days ago. But we sorted it out.

Okay, now that I've made it all dramatic, I'll tell the story properly. As my most faithful or newly obsessed readers will no doubt remember, my mom was dreadfully sick last year. She's been much better, but never quite what a healthy person would call well, in the year since. The last couple of months she's been suffering from urinary tract infections, and her doctor's been putting her on various antibiotics to combat this. However, none of them really worked, and he finally told her that if she had another positive urine specimen, he'd have to hospitalize her for a few days to try a regimen of IV antibiotics. We talked that day, and she said that if she didn't call back that night, she was in the hospital.

Well, I *intended* to call her in the hospital. I swear I did. But every time I thought about her (and I thought about her a lot those few days) it was first thing in the morning or last thing at night, and even with a one-hour time difference it was still too late to call. She wasn't in for *very* long, three or four days, and I'd just that morning had another round of "Oh crap, I really ought to give Mama a call," when that afternoon I saw her on my caller ID. I picked it up and gave her a cheery, "Hey! Mama! You're home!"

Nice try.

She was so mad at me, oh man. She was doing her full-on impersonation of a stereotypical Jewish mother, which I always find comical in her wild idiolect/accent. "It's okay. I'm fine. I don't care. I know you're busy and you don't have time for your old mother. I could've been dead in there. But it's okay." Sigh.

However, what I chose to do this time was very different from what I've done in the past. Instead of arguing with her about how really I don't suck ass as a daughter and why does she have to be such a martyr and honestly, she could have called me -- instead, I said, "Wow, you sound really upset." So she tried again to guilt-trip me, and I said, "You really wanted me to call, and I didn't, and I hurt your feelings -- I'm really sorry." So she tried again. And I answered again. "You feel like I don't care about you, and I wasn't thinking about you, and that's really painful."

And she gave up. And she told me how she felt terrified and alone in the hospital, and how much she'd have liked to hear my voice, and that we're all each other has left now, and she'd been scared and sad. And I told her how sorry I was that I'd made her feel that way, because I'd been thinking about her lots, but she just had no way of knowing if I didn't call. And she laughed and said, "No, honey, I can't read your mind." And then she started telling me about the endless party that her hospital stay had been (because of her work with the Mexican immigrant community in Gonzales, she is actually never at a loss for hordes of loving friends and chosen family and toddling cherubs). Flowers, food, children, her pastor, too many people for the hospital room and the nurses complained.

But what she wanted was me, and I let her down, and so even in the midst of plenty, she felt totally abandoned and alone. I feel like a heel, but I also feel like we've had a breakthrough. Because I acknowledged how she felt, she gave up on just being explosively angry, and talked about her feelings -- something she's historically been really super bad at. And I'll do better next time.

Gee, I wonder where I get my emotional pathology from?

----

This morning, I gave her a call because it was my dad's birthday. He'd have been seventy-six today. She was sad, but appropriately so, not a basket case. And so I told her something I've never mentioned to her, because she and I had grieved for Daddy so differently. I told her that sometimes in my dreams I hang out with Daddy, and we chat and drink coffee and just shoot the shit, and I always wake up from those dreams really happy. (Honestly, that happiness is both profound *and* a little bittersweet, but my mom's not one for emotional nuance, so I left that out.) She loved hearing that, and went on about how those we lose are never really gone, and I found myself not-irritated with her, because even though we have thoroughly different beliefs about what happens after you die, I'd just said myself that I feel my dad's presence continuing in my life despite his death. So I kept my big trap shut and let her talk, and it was nice. Familial.

Maybe she and I will work this whole being-related thing out before one us dies. That would be *so* cool.

Posted by Rose at 10:24 PM
Comments (5)

November 10, 2006

When will we ever learn?

Been having some seriously good times lately. Buddhism kicks ass, yo.

I have approximately eleventy-seven blog entries queued up in my head, but alls you're getting right now is a little thinking I was doing a couple of days ago.

I've got some gorgeous morning glories a couple of blocks away around the corner from my house. Last year I meant to harvest seeds from them to try to grow them in my yard, but forgot. I've been taking their portraits all summer and fall, just go look at my Flickr sets.

This year I've been waiting and waiting to harvest seeds, and reminding myself to look for them. But months have gone by and no seeds! Finally I realized that the plants don't actually set seeds until the fall, when the flowers stop coming so prolifically. Something, I dunno, scientific/botanical about how many hours of light and all that sort of thing.

What this means, though, is that while I have been enjoying the current flowers, I've been so looking forward to growing my own, next year, that I haven't been paying attention to the reality of this year's batch. One black mark against me. But I feel I am making up for that with my new observation: The present crop of morning glories has to die in order for the seeds to set for future plants. You can't get to the future without letting the present die, is what I'm saying.

What was that? Buddhist teachings about death and impermanence? In the flower garden around the way? I think this means the dharma is wherever you look for it.

I would fuss about how I'm getting so philosophical and shit, since I find it mildly embarrassing, but it's unbelievably wonderful! Everything feels so joyous and calm.

Me=happy Rose. More soon.

Posted by Rose at 12:50 AM
Comments (1)

November 07, 2006

Shake them titties when you vote, bitch

Vote! Vote vote vote!

More later -- a marathon report (watching it was great!) and some photos and blah blah blah -- but the most important thing possible is that we should all Vote the Fuckers Out!

Posted by Rose at 08:44 AM
Comments (0)

October 24, 2006

If you don't get my letter then you'll know that I'm in jail

Tonight, after another brilliant acupuncture appointment, I went over to ABC No Rio to send books to prisoners. I did this for the first time a few weeks ago, and I've got it planned into my schedule now as a regular thing. I'd been meaning to do it for months 'n' months, as it is on the Nonsense list every week, and it was a cause I supported, but it wasn't until I was so miserable in September that I was able to get my act together. Four things happened: I independently had the idea that "Gee, a lot of people are much worse off than I am, me with my first-world problems," and then I read the suggestion to volunteer in books about both Buddhism and anxiety/depression, and then Katje reminded me that volunteering is good for cheering oneself up, and then I read David Feige's book Indefensible, about being a public defender in the Bronx. How could I resist all that?

It's amazing work. They've got a room full of books that have been donated, and a box full of letters from prisoners, and you take a letter, read it, and try to find some books for the person. Just about every letter gets me right in the gut. Tonight I had a letter from a guy who said that his prison had a small library, but that now that he's finished his GED, he isn't even allowed to use it. WTF? We had some history books that fit his request, and we sent those along. Most satisfying request to fill tonight was the guy who asked for books about Celtic stuff, Gaelic, anything Irish. We actually had a book on Celtic mythology *and* an Irish-English/English-Irish dictionary (which had some grammar exercises in it). Dude.

In other news, the perennials I planted are doing splendidly. I *know* that fall is a fine time to plant, and so I ordered the plants, but I had a moment of doubt when they came and it was a chilly morning and I thought, "What am I doing?" But we are in zone 7, and furthermore, the weather has cooperated perfectly, with lots of rain and sunshine interspersed, and a few more warm days before the chill set in. We shouldn't have even a frost for another couple of weeks, and in the meantime, the hostas are putting out new leaves (which suggests that they are putting down new roots as well) and the black mondo grass looks extremely healthy. I'll have to get a couple of pictures in situ.

Posted by Rose at 10:13 PM
Comments (2)

Sorry that I told you lies

My ex has written me to explain that I misinterpreted his email to me; he meant to tell me that the feelings I'd recently expressed were identical to ones he'd felt long ago.

Since hearing that would not have angered me or caused me to post anything about it, I've deleted my previous entry.

Back to our irregularly scheduled blog.

Posted by Rose at 07:39 AM
Comments (0)

October 17, 2006

It's so hard to risk another these days

Hello from the land of constant sleep deprivation! It's great here, you'll like it, you can be woozy and cheery while still passing drug tests! Terrific stuff.

Seriously, though, 9-5 can kiss my flat ass. On the other hand, every single other thing about the current gig rocks, including the pay and the colleagues, so I really oughtn't complain.

Speaking of not complaining, there is much else good in the world 'round these parts. I bought a loom; therapy is going super well; I even planted a few things in our eensy front garden (it's about 50 square feet). The new plants are black mondo grass and acid green hostas.

I've had a lot of happiness as well as a lot of sadness this past week. I'm getting the chance to discover that all the hard work I've done in the last couple of months is actually paying off. Discovering that, though, makes me sad about not doing the work in time to save the last relationship. I'm trying to forgive myself. I did the best I could; so did he. It's ridiculously early days with my new acquaintance, but I can already see the difference in my approach and my emotions. "Whatever will be, will be" is a damned fine place to be in.

[Edited to add what I forgot until the second after I posted: Acupuncture has been going brilliantly lately! Today was especially amazing, as new points were tried that turned out to have a big effect. Me=total convert. *Also* -- the echocardiogram was okay, which means there's nothing structurally wrong with my heart. Still waiting on the all-day-monitor results. And the combo news? At acupuncture today my resting pulse rate *before* we started was 75 bpm. We've been doing stuff over the last few weeks to try to concentrate on pulse rate and heart matters, and that seems to Actually Be Working. Dooooood. How cool is that?]

Posted by Rose at 09:54 PM
Comments (1)

October 08, 2006

Ten miles behind me and ten thousand more to go

The path is the journey, right? So I shouldn't be down on myself for getting down. I'm actually feeling a lot better emotionally than when I last posted, but now I have a cold (fussfussfuss) and have spent the weekend sleeping instead of cavorting in the city (where there were a dozen cool things to do over the last couple of days).

The first issue of Craft just showed up yesterday, and I highly recommend it (although much of the content is familiar to me, since I've been haunting their website all summer -- that shouldn't be as much of a problem with future issues). Great stuff to lie on the couch and snuffle with. I'm planning to pitch an article to them about online community and craft, though I don't quite have what I want to say straight in my head yet, and their articles are all short, so I need to be punchy and clear.

Back to the sickcouch. My cat Twyla has been a most excellent nurse-cat, which helps a lot. Very attentive.

Posted by Rose at 02:34 PM
Comments (1)

October 04, 2006

Sometimes I wish for the warmth of his hand

Some days I feel strong and brave and free, and although I miss the boy I lost, it feels okay, it feels wistful but tolerable, but the last day or so have been hard. I keep feeling these swells of emotion, of loss, and it feels so fresh, as though the last time we spent together was just hours ago, and not weeks, and I feel overcome with sadness.

I've tried thinking of ways it could be worse: We could be angry with each other; he could be dead. Somehow those aren't as much consolation as they could be.

He and I talked last week, had a kind of post-mortem. It went really well; we had a deeper, better talk than I'd have thought we could manage, so soon after ending things. We decided to take a real break from each other, to not be in touch for six months. (I have a friend who said that was very wise, that she's always thought the "reset switch" takes six months before it works; she also added that a person can hold her breath for three months, but no one can hold their breath for six months. Six months means you have to go on with your life.) It felt right, a good decision, and I still think it's the right decision, but oh, I miss him.

I hate that we couldn't make things work on our first try, or our second try. I hate that we might never even decide to take a third try. I hate that we had such a wonderful time together, but drove each other bugfuck crazy in our various ways. I hate that what we had felt so special, so unique, so thoroughly unprecedented, and yet now I realize it's just the same thing everyone goes through; we love, we lose, we cry.

I hate that I'm learning an enormous amount about myself, and how I interact with the world, and with other people, especially lovers, and that it's all a result of the relationship with him, but that he may never see the benefit of it. I don't *want* to show up on some new lover's doorstep all ready for a mature, happy, polyamorous relationship. I want to show up on his.

And yet I have to let go of wanting to show up on his doorstep if I'm to ever get the chance to show up on his doorstep. It's my own little koan.

I think there's a book in this, surviving a breakup by finding Buddhism. I'd probably hate myself if I wrote it, though.

I *miiiiiiiiiiiss* him. I want to talk to him about all the books I've read in the last month, and all the cool things I'm up to, and all the thinking I've been doing, and I want to hear all about what *he's* been doing, and, and, and. And I want to lie in his arms and hold him and never let him go.

Auuuugh.

Posted by Rose at 06:15 PM
Comments (0)

I try my best to be just like I am

Well, lordy. Turns out I wasn't actually seeing a *cardiologist* today, I was going to the *cardiologist's office* to have procedures done. Depending on the results, I'll either follow up with my regular doctor, or see the specialist. I suppose that makes sense, but I always find "procedures" irritating, because the folks who do them will never tell me anything useful. I had an echocardiogram, about which I know nothing much yet (although my heart did at least cooperate by being speedy in the office; my pulse went up to 104 while she was recording). At least the tech didn't gasp and run out of the room and bring back a doctor, so I'm figuring nothing was spectacularly wrong.

Then the tech wired me up with a Holter monitor. I'm trying to concentrate on how neat it is that I can have a 24-hour recording made of my heart without having to spend a night in the hospital, but I'm only human, and I have to admit: It's kind of bothersome. Here's what it looks like:

holter.jpg

Sexy, eh?

I finished the Pema Chödrön book, and I'm going to wait a few days and reread it, since I think I need to let the lessons from it sink in better than they did on a single reading. It's been especially pertinent stuff. I just had another self-help-ish book recommended to me, Feeling Good, and I've picked up a copy and am going to give it a look-see. Turns out I'm not the first person who's gotten to a no-more-talk-therapy point.

I suppose I've been realizing that I'm not the first person to feel *any* of the things I've been feeling lately, which has been really grounding. This is how people feel. For nearly 3,000 years. Just like this. We fall in and out of love, we sustain losses, we obsess over the things that fret us, we resist change.

Crazy. My life experience has been of thinking of myself as weird and unique and different and sui generis; it's a brain-fuck to think of myself as *just like everyone else*. But very, very calming.

Posted by Rose at 01:59 PM
Comments (1)

October 03, 2006

I feel my heart start to tremblin'

So tomorrow I'm going to the cardiologist, and not a minute too soon! I was annoyed with my doctor for suggesting it, back on the 12th, when my pulse (at rest, after hanging out in her office chatting for about 45 minutes) was 108 bpm, but I've been checking in on it now and then in the weeks after, and it's often in the high 90s, and just now? I was sitting, knitting, feeling pretty peaceful, and it's 112.

Stoopid!

I'm trying not to freak about this too much, since that seems directly counterproductive. I'm just going to let the nice cardiologist tell me how concerned to be. They're going to do an echocardiogram, and then have me wear a 24-hour Holter monitor. I'm hoping this doesn't suck too much. It's keeping me away from yoga for two days! Grr.

----

I have a lot to say about what I've been learning from Buddhist teachings, but I don't quite have it in words yet. There's lots of amazing stuff in the books I've been reading, though. My favorite bit in Pema Chödrön's book When Things Fall Apart is her saying "hope kills the future." That sure feels like a lesson I need to learn.

I had been saying for a couple of months that I felt a need for a different kind of therapist than the ones I've seen over the years, who've all been focused on very standard Northeastern eclectic talk therapy. I've spent years learning figuring out what makes me who I am, and considering what the deep causes of my problems are. I'm all done. Now I want my problems to get better, and I want real tools for effecting change. My new therapist is Very Different from the ones who've come before her, yay! She gives me homework, for one thing, and she advises meditation, for another. I feel like I'm finally ready to stop running away when I feel bad, and to learn how to tolerate my discomfort so that I can make real decisions about how I want to react, instead of just reacting instinctually. That would be a big change for me, and an exciting one.

Posted by Rose at 04:07 PM
Comments (2)

September 29, 2006

There'll be good times again for me and you

It's been a pretty damned great week. What a fucking relief.

Last night Francis and I went to see John Hodgman interview Neil Gaiman at FIT.
john-and-neil.jpg
Francis has already written about it in his own blog, so I don't need to say too much else, but I'll add that John was an inspired choice of interlocuter, and that Neil Gaiman is both quick-witted and gracious, and a delight to listen to. He read two poems, and since one of them is a BREAKUP POEM I'm going to quote it here in its entirety in addition to just linking it. A breakup poem that includes zombies. It's like he's writing Just for Me.

Continue reading "There'll be good times again for me and you"

Posted by Rose at 12:09 PM
Comments (3)

September 27, 2006

Kiss me on my salty lips

We just had an utterly amazing anniversary meal at Applewood, on 11th Street in Park Slope.

Amuse-bouche -- uni and heirloom tomato soup

Diver scallop with bacon, red cabbage, and pea-shoot pesto -- paired with a Pinot Gris

Halibut with garlic “au jus”, bone marrow, and royal trumpet mushrooms -- paired with an Alsatian Riesling

Duck-fat poached lamb tenderloin with polenta and roasted daikon and turnips -- paired with a Rioja

Amuse-bouche -- mint ice cream on a brownie

Cheese course, with four cheeses I can't remember, but which were all fabulous, and went perfectly with the Montepulciano they were paired with.

Poached pear with almond financier and crème fraiche -- paired with a Muscat

I really don't have anything to add. I just loved the meal so much that I wanted to write it down. Extra points for our adorable waiter, who had splendid ink and piercings, and who I hope got to have some of the lamb after hours (he told us, after we raved about it, "Yeah, we're all totally jealous about that, I won't lie").

Posted by Rose at 10:17 PM
Comments (3)

Loving would be easy if your colors were like my dream

Yay!

Francis was irritated about karma yesterday; he's found a wallet and a cell phone over the last few months, and he went to a good deal of effort to make sure those made it back to their owners. I reminded him that I'd done the same thing just last year; someone left a wallet at Yarnivore, and I went home the long way so that I could drop it off. But I also told him that I didn't think karma was quite so literal; for instance, he may be being karmically repaid by having a happy polyamorous relationship and good health.

Maybe I spoke too soon? Because someone dropped off my wallet last night. Unfortunately, since I never updated my address on my driver's license, they dropped it off at my old house. But nevertheless, this is fantastic news! We're going to go get it today.

It turns out to be a major pain in the ass to prove your identity to the DMV. You need six points of identification, and I was really scrambling to come up with it, since I'd lost my wallet that had a few points in it right there. Glad I don't have to deal with it!

Posted by Rose at 05:03 PM
Comments (1)

September 26, 2006

Now I am the richest man, 'cause all I have are these empty hands

I was already planning to use that line from Kid Beyond's "Deep Inside" for a blog post, since it's a Buddhist break-up song, and is completely awesome both as a song and a representative of a very tiny genre.

But it's literally meaningful in addition to just being metaphorically meaningful today, unfortunately. It's certainly true that I'm getting a lot of peace and resolution around my relationship woes by learning to really, truly, LET GO.

However, I didn't mean to let go of quite so much of my material goods just yet.

I LOST MY WALLET.

Dude.

I've put up flyers, and I think I know where I lost it, so I'm hoping some neighborhood person will find it. But there's all the stuff that'll need replacing, plus about $80 in cash, plus a bunch of business cards and membership cards, and it's all just rotten.

I was just reading about how a moment's inattention can cause us great grief.

I didn't need this much wisdom all in one week.

[Edited to add: The MTA will actually refund a prorated amount of an unlimited Metrocard bought with a credit card. So that's part of my loss allayed. I hadn't put my new bankcard in my wallet yet, and Francis just ordered us new credit cards, since our old ones had expired, so there shouldn't be any monetary loss besides the cash. It's just a bunch of irritation, getting a new driver's license and Social Security card. Grr.]

Posted by Rose at 02:47 PM
Comments (0)