It Must be Nice Department

The sister of a friend of mine has just been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer (It is really extensive).

They live 2,000 miles apart. The sister that lives here (retired), is going back east in April, and staying for the duration, to provide her sibling with love, support, and whatever help she can...

I guess I'm feeling envious, and sorry for myself .

A Good Day

And they are too few and far between! Either I'm ill from one thing or another, OR my time is consumed with making/going to doc appointments, arranging transportation, refilling prescriptions, applying for grants for uncovered medical expenses, etc. (the paperwork, paperwork, paperwork of being poor!)

Then too, a real 'time eater' is trying to find a qualified 'roomie' to help me out at night. Ads, phone interviews, face to face interviews, checking references, and criminal checks, all takes a great deal of time.

I'm telling you, all this 'junk', indispensable as it is fills my days.

Today though was rare and different! I crocheted for about an hour. And I spent time on my outside plants. I did some bible study, and read a mystery novel. Not to mention, a friend bought me home-made Lasagna for dinner!

The only cloud on my horizon today (and it's always there), is missing my adult children and grandchildren...

Valentine's Day 2009

I had a nice, peaceful day. Still recovering from the last Chemo, I was able to spend 3-5 hours up in my wheel chair before having to lay down and rest for awhile...

I made, and sent, an eValentine to family and friends.

Then a young woman, Rachel, from Sacred Heart Parish Young Adults group, who visits me once in awhile, bought me a beautiful bouquet of Orchids.

Towards evening, I put down some catnip for Lucy, and later Big Boy came in and 'killed' his favorite toy (a floppy stuffed animal rubbed with fresh catnip).

Christmas 2008

I had a really nice Christmas, (with my little decorated fake ficus!), and the efforts of a few friends. Lots of food, a few visitors, and a handful of gifts to open.

A sadness was that I did not get a call or card from either of my Adult Children, nor did they take or return my calls, even my grandson Michael.

The other fly in the ointment is a UTI that will not go away. So today, on Christmas Day, I had to start on a series of 5 days of injectable antibiotic, gentamicin. This meant going to Scripps Mercy Hospital Infusion room for the medication. And it means TWO injections per day! Ouch!

My Cancer Buddy from the Rock Church is taking me for these. I am truly blessed!

Some One Loves Me

A Poem from a poet friend Lisa Wagner, and posted with permission, and EXACTLY as written (and thank you so very much Lisa!).

Lisa Wagner reserves all rights. She also reserves the right to revise this poem, as it was a '2nd draft'.

She don't look special to you -
You can tell she aint healthy,
unmarried and unwealthy, too!

See her, looking so heavy,
dressed almost like
a hobo's linen closet,
and un-beautiful, un-adorned
smells like a bunch of ciggaretts too!

She don't look like your mother
or your mother's mother -
sure don't look like anybody's lover.
I bet your being thankful she ain't you,
And I bet you're feeling positive -
whatever became of her,
could never become of you!

See her - movin' along in her power-chair alone;
See her skin, so pale -
You can tell she hardly ever leaves home,
and with reproach you think to ask youself,
"Would YOU?"

Look at her stuff, hangin' about her wheelchair;
an umbrella, a bag of yarn,
some blanket like overcoat, and eew - !
a bag of urine, too!

She don't look like no one special to you,
She don't look worth an ounce of your regard,
and if she gets too close;
I'm sure you're prepared and feeling rude,
don't even look her in the eyes,
she may need some help, or a word of you -

But she is special to someone.
Yea, she's not always alone -
Somebody Cares
Somebody jumps at her every whim
Somebody visits her, and hugs her.
And even kisses her too!

Yea, she's somebody special, somebody loves her -
(evvy, I do.)
And if no one else in this world
treats you kind,
pay it no sorrow, pay it no mind
Cos' I know someone else who loves you too -
He is God, our Father in Heaven
and amoung him -
You are beautiful, and worthy,
and special, too.

Wendy

This evening I had a visitor, Wendy, a cyber-pal. We have been emailing back and forth with for years! We finally met f2f.

She was visiting family in the area (from Amsterdam, where she lives), and graciously granted me a few hours.

We had dinner, exchanged a couple of gifts; I gave her a petghan for her cat and a ‘Don’t Lose Your Marbles, she gave me a fridge magnet that says ‘Holland’ on it, a book, and a loved designer box.

And. we talked and talked and talked! Hope she had as good of a time as I did!

The Sisters take a short trip

Month’s past due, The Sisters went for their yearly immunizations today. I packed them up in their plastic container, and a friend came and took them.

They were not thrilled, but I had one less thing to worry about! And it only cost $44 for both at Shots For Pets.

Lunch Date

Rosemary, a friend of many years came over for a late lunch today. As usual, she arrived with a bag of Fast Food, burgers and fries. We blissfully munched out while ‘catching up’ with what was going on with each other.

She is one of the few friends I have left. Most people, no matter how close you’ve been, just don’t tolerate continued illness, sooner or later, one way or another, they bow out.

Then there is the poverty factor. I cannot meet someone at Denny’s for brunch, or pay for a ticket to some event. Nor can I accept an invitation to a birthday, wedding, shower, as I do not have the $9 for disabled transit (it all goes for medical needs), let alone purchase a gift. People need you to carry your fair share of the relationship; they do not want to feel used, or depended upon. I can understand that.

My ‘friends’ are few and far between. Rosemary is one of the few, she has hung in there with me for years, bless her.

Cysto/Retro Went Well

I am still trying to get out from under all the ‘drugs’ I was given for the procedure! That will just take time...

The staff at UCSD Thornton was great; everyone was friendly and helpful.

Unlike the last two procedures at UCSD Hillcrest, there were no problems, before, during or after, with the Spinal Anesthetic. They also managed to keep my anxiety under control (not an easy thing!)

I was in at 6AM and out by 12:30PM. (My friend Rosemary came, signed me out, and followed the MTS Access Van to my apartment, and by the way, I lucked out, in that I was taken straight home.

Most importantly, doc saw nothing suspicious anywhere in my bladder, or kidneys. Of course, the cytology will not be back for a while. But there was also no indications of where the bleeding I am having on rare occasions was originating-but at least it is NOT of cancerous origin!

It would be absolutely, positively great if I did not have to do THIS one again for a couple of years!

Another Old Friend Found though the Internet!

Well, Russell Collins was really my Mom’s friend. He’s 12 years older than I am, and still lived at home, across the street, from where my Mom and her family lived, and where I was born.

But I grew up around him! Though my Mom’s family friend, Russell seemed like an Uncle to me. Another part of our large extended family.

We stayed in touch, by mail and phone, for years after my Mom’s death in 1976. Sometimes this was only an exchange of Christmas Cards. When he retired though, and moved to the Ozarks, we lost touch. That yearly Christmas Card came back marked, no such person, undeliverable, etc. And I was at a loss.

I thought of him often. I went on an Internet search for him once in awhile with no results. But the last time I looked for him, I noticed an address and phone number listed in a city he had once lived in. I picked up the phone. Yes! It was MY Russell Collins!

Since then we have had a couple of delightful, long phone conversations, and now stay in touch with email. Russell, now 73, does not particularly like computers, feels he is not too good with them, but struggles through, seeing the value of email.

Once again, thanks to the World Wide Web!

Jane Ciacio 1958 – 2007

Jane was a cyberpal for the last 5 years. Though I do not remember in which online Bladder Cancer venue we originally met, we exchanged info, care, and support via email, chats, and phone for years. It turned out that we had more than Bladder Cancer in common, like cats and animals!

Jane died from Bladder Cancer (eventually metastasized), which she battled for the entire time I knew her. She was sweet, smart, helpful, and most of all, caring towards everyone involved in the Bladder Cancer support groups.

I last spoke to her when I called her on her birthday last August (shortly after her radical cystectomy). I had a feeling of deep foreboding at that time, as she was not as chatty as usual, and in fact, did not seem to be herself; I put this down to ‘recovering’ from surgery, and kept waiting for her to bounce back. I doubt there was one day when I did not look for her name in my email inbox or on the message boards. It was not to be.

She will be greatly missed by all (she touched so very many!), certainly she will be missed by me. If you knew Jane Ciacio, there is a Guest Book available for reading and posting at: http://www.legacy.com/Link.asp?I=GB000086129364

John Jive (Horrigan) & Vince Labor

This is a copy of an email I sent to John & Vince today in preparation for John Jive's vacation to CA

***Been meaning to send both of you this for awhile. Of course, it IS a poem, and a 'compilation' at that, written many years ago! But I thought you'd both enjoy it; that it would stir some memories! Feel free to pass it on (Nancy, Alex, etc), but other than close friends, I'd actually prefer if they bought the eBook!

Hope that you two will be able to get together! For certain, I can't make it to LA. John, take a digital camera and take LOTS of pic! (I can put up a 'reunion' web page if you like.)


Southern Comfort


Many a night, we would gather, count
and pool our meager cash,
then make a last run to the liquor
store before it closed
to buy as many pints as we could.
Unwilling to wait for gratification,
or the promised comfort, we cracked
the first bottle while leaning against
the car in the store's parking lot.
We passed the bottle lovingly around,
actually a communion of sorts,
each taking in turn, a first sweet mouthful
and swallowing with a delighted shiver.
A ritual we'd developed over time
and practiced no matter the season.
One bottle quickly killed we'd crack
another and stash the remaining bottles
in the trunk of the car, for safety,
while on our way to somewhere.
Often, we went to the park, occupied
the swings that playing children
had no doubt, reluctantly left
a few short hours before. Or we hung
from the jungle gym never missing
a swig from the passing bottle
or a hit from the passing joint,
nor did we ever lose track of the talk.
We always dedicated each bottle
of Southern Comfort to one of us; musicians
actors, dancers, writers and poet,
and our ilk. Or to some current
and close to our hearts cause whenever
we thought of our social responsibilities,
which was frequent and melodramatic.
Social responsibilities as impacted by art,
that is. Therefore, we regularly solved
the major problems of the world.
But mostly we discussed our ideas of art,
and the social tragedy of being artists.
And we got drunk. And we got loaded.
To a person, we bravely laughed out loud
in the spectacular darkness, knowing how apt
we were to cry, scream, howl
in the light of the following day.
Out of those beautiful, strange nights,
those nights when we shared our souls,
each of us grew without knowing it.
During those Southern Comfort nights,
we bravely dissected our futility
to find it a manageable terror.
During those strange nights, the roads
each of us would eventually travel
were mapped out with precision.
And during those Southern Comfort nights,
uncountable poems were conceived;
sounds were found, styles developed.
So that now, those bastard conceptions,
as well as the ideas, and ethics,
of those incredible Southern Comfort nights,
today goad me to produce multitudes
of poems, sounds to keep me company
in my now sober, self-imposed isolation.
And sometimes, when the moon is full
or the night is consumed by storms;
that park pulls me, though it's hundreds
of long miles from here and now.
At those times, I can almost hear
those far-ago voices, and the laughter,
of my companions, my friends, my peers,
today scattered across a continent.
Oh, and I'd swear that I can taste, feel
the sweet burning sensation of
Southern Comfort coursing down my throat.

All rights reserved by evvy garrett

John Jive (Horrigan)

John Jive is in LA for the next four days. In fact, he's already there; I can feel him.

He's visiting from Boston where he's lived for the last 30 or so years now. He invited me to join him for a drink.

But I now longer drink. And getting to LA in a wheelchair, using public transportation (trains, busses), is extremely problematic, especially when poor!

I counter-invited him to rent a car and come for a visit. But I know he won't. Though I'd love to see him and hear about how his live has been.

I hope he does find a way to get to Long Beach to visit Vince Labor, who just had heart surgery. But I doubt that also.

John Jive was never one for putting himself out unless there was something in it for him...

Jolene

I clicked into a new search site, http://www.zabasearch.com/ and for no thought out reason, entered the Jolene’s full name.

Jolene is a childhood friend (best friends since kindergarten, for heaven’s sake, when we lived just houses from each other!) that I'd lost touch with in the last few years.

They had retired, moved to another state, and I'd also moved. The result was that we lost track of each other, for the first time since the day we met.

I’ve looked for her. Oh, how I’ve looked for her, phonebooks, people with the same last name (I’ve sent many strangers emails asking if they were Jolene!), Social Security public records, and on the internet in the hopes she’d eventually put up a web site. I’ve even tried to contact her husband’s relatives as he comes from a large family. I’ve waited expectantly for that annual Christmas Card (not realizing a ‘change of address’ order expires after only six months).

Then to my joy and disbelief, boom, there it was, on the ZabaSearch page! From the information provided there, I was able to find her phone number in the white pages.

I just hung up the phone from talking with her!!! I recognized her voice immediately when she answered. Some things, even 55 years, don’t change. We didn’t talk long, just long enough to exchange current information; health, kids, grandkids, and email addresses!

Thankfully, she has a computer too – Jolene and I can really catch up now, maybe get to know each other better again! This just makes my day, week, month!!! I am sooo happy...