I'll Fly Away, Oh Glory, I'll Fly Away

Jet Blue is having an unbelievable deal on tickets to the Carribean right now. I just looked it up for shits and giggles (which is an odd phrase when you think about it...as if those two things belong together in any way...), and well perhaps this internet foray into airline prices just might have been preempted by a comment from WB. The comment just may have allegedly been something along the lines of waiting to go home to Puerto Rico to visit his parents until the two of us can go together, rather than going with his brother in October.

And now this deal is pretty damn good...perhaps too good to pass up...$79 each way....hmmmm.

Am I ready to meet his parents? I already communicate with them via mail fairly frequently, and even recently sent a whole postcard in Spanish (which I am currently making an ass of myself learning, as his mother speaks no English whatsoever)...but, well, meeting them is a whole different story, not mention right now it takes a good 30 minutes for me to complete a simple haltingly spoken and gramatically bastardized solitary sentence.

Do I want to go? Yes. Absolutely. Si, quiero ir - me gusta mucho. Am I afraid? Abso-fuckin-lutely. Its hard enough to make a good impression when you speak the same language...but this? I've certainly got some tough odds stacked against me here. Hopefully my undeniable charm (read immaturity) will get me through.

Not that any of this is a done deal, mind you...WB has to think about it, and figure out if he's ready to introduce me. Saying it in theory and being faced with a potential reality are two very different things. I did already meet his brother, who in a very weird stroke of coincidence happens to live in the same city I grew up in, where my parents still live...where we are every other weekend (not that the brother knows that..). His brother also happens to have the same name as WB, as does his father who evidently wanted immortality one way or another...which is incredibly confusing, to say the least, but that's a whole other story.

Now, its time to go home.

I'm just trying to keep up with this blog, even if its a tiny blurb; it was left out in the sun to spoil for far too long and I'm trying to rejuvinate it with sunlight, water, and a little Mozart.

Maman, Ghandi, or Ben Kingsley? You Decide...

A beautiful longtime family friend (whom we've known since I was 3 and who is always part of our crazy Passover traditions with My Little Vidipookikins' family and my family) just got back from a trip to the Buddhist monastaries in northern India, and brought back this scarf for Maman, which was blessed by a Buddhist Llama. I think it makes her look like a Buddhist Nun...wise, peaceful, and in the moment.I prefer to think of her this way, than kind of confused and sometimes miserably sick. She does have a certain grace to her in this picture (taken about a month ago ? By Mim).

And I personally think she looks gorgeous bald!

All's Fair in Love and Cancer? Well, Maybe Just the Love Part...

I was hoping that the bi-monthly city swapping between Maman's and home would get easier. We humans are an incredibly adaptable species, after all, and its not like I have to give up my whole life...only half of it, really. But somehow when the adaptability gene was being passed around, someone in my lineage must have been on a potty break because I just ain't adapting here. Instead, i'm becoming more and more worn out. Its not tired - its like tired supersized. Its like new and improved tired! Its like a fucking train ran over my fucking head, but like a chicken my body remains a slave to inertia and I keep going through the motions.

And its every other week, with the end so far down the horizon that I'm beginning to think the Earth may not be flat after all.

As he was driving me to the airport last night, Dad was uncharacteristically sweet and sentimental and just the slightest bit mooshy gooshy; cancer brings out the softer side of Sears and all. He thanked me, sincerely and without sarcasm (which is a feat in our family) for coming down so frequently to help him out. He told me that I enabled him to have a life.

While I am infinitely thankful for the closeness he is cultivating here, I gotta admit that his statements did seem to put just the tiniest bit of pressure on me. So if I change it to every two weeks, will he suddenly implode, being left bereft and lifeless? Am I to sacrifice any hope of a life of my own to give him one? I thought parenting was supposed to work the other way around!
Then I remember that I am indeed being a spoiled selfish asshole and it must be that whole exhaustion thing, which also makes me quite prone to crying at the first sign of tenderness from anyone and everyone so don't tell me I'm not an asshole unless you want to hear me electronically weep.


.......Ah, Adventures in Cancerland....a Tale of Laughter, Tears, Frustration, and Vomit......


Maman is getting weaker and weaker and sicker and sicker - chemo is cumulative like that. Don't get me wrong, when she's awake, she's still spunky old Maman, albeit much less capable of following a conversation than before (she tends to get lost easily, which doesn't exactly pair well with my tendency to ramble). Unfortunately, she is awake less and less, and either sleeping or vomitting more and more. I'm clinging to the old adage that the body heals itself while sleeping, but that's kind of hard to do when you're pumping it full of evil and uber-debilitating poison. I'm not a huge fan of the chemo. Its really nasty harsh stuff.

I did, however, wrack what is left of my severly addled brain, and managed to come up with several options for the blandest, least offensive, and easiest to eat with a single spoon options for cuisine. While it won't earn any Michelin stars, it will hopefully stay down and prevent her from edging any closer to the pattented Nicole Richie Concentration Camp look. (Can you tell what pop-culturally challenged lady did a little headline reading at the grocery store this weekend?) The menu du jour includes completely unseasoned and very very thin mashed potatoes, cream of wheat, sometimes lentil soup, and a very fluffy (lots and lots of milk) egg and swiss omelette. (the yogurt, fruit, and protein powder shake wasn't the hit I hoped it would be.) Of course that's until those things become unbearable or she becomes incapable of eating altogether - the other night everything stayed down just fine and then out of nowhere, as she was getting ready for bed, she just began vomitting. I don't think we're dealing with an Exorcist type thing here, so the other option is that her body is trying to expell anything and everything that's put in there. Great. Kind of narrows the dinner options, huh?

I hope no one is eating while reading this...or was.

The week before last we had a special treat - she had not only one, but TWO transfusions! Jackpot!!! First was the interminably long blood transfusion (interminably long for me, she was knocked out with Benadryl the whole time), and then came the oh-so-coveted Platelets - all of which served to temporarily boost her up to such a degree that she was even able to go with Dad on a mini-trip to a little town about an hour away. Of course, this excitement was short lived, as the next Thursday was the nasty ass-kicking 6 hour chemo, which would flatten even the heartiest of the bunch. But at least she got out, and for just a moment was allowed to feel slightly closer to normal.

And now, Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you....The Silver Lining!! :

I am still so head over heels in love with my Wild Boar. He is best friend, lover, and support syextraordinaire! We transitioned to domestic life together swimmingly, and considering all the odds and challenges we've been thrown up against, I'm pretty damn impressed with how we've stepped up to the plate time and time again. Its pretty mind-boggling really, when you think about how new the relationship was when this all began. There's nothing like personal tragedy to either accelerate or kill a relationship. I'm glad we chose what was behind door number one.

WB goes with me every time I go to Maman's, and stays through Monday morning at the crack of dawn each visit (we have to wake up at 4:30am to go the airport - if that's not love, what is?). He has won over the hearts of not only my parents (who vow to keep him, not me, should anything happen) but pretty much everyone I've ever kown since birth (and that is not an exaggeration, there are literally friends he's met that have known me since ages 1, 2 and 3). He is pretty much the only thing keeping me from the loony bin at present and he somehow manages to make me laugh or smile in even the worst and most trying of moments.

And...I came home last night to a dozen roses spread out over the bed in a valiant attempt at creating a heart shape! (although it looked kind of more like a spade really...but who's counting?)

Its funny how the universe gives you all extremes at once, isn't it?

(see, notice how I start writing about him and suddenly my tone gets lighter and happier...shit! Clearly I'm going soft on y'all ....and clearly he is my silver lining)

Testing...testing...1, 2, 3...

This is a test of the emergency blogging via email to get away with it at work system. this is only a test. Were this a real post, it would be far more interesting. I repeat, this is only a test.

I annoy even myself at times...

Ah Ah Ah Ah Stayin Alive, Stayin Alive

Okay, both Maman and I are still alive, albeit both exhausted and semi-coherent at best. I realize how unfair it is to have left what very few people are still checking in dangling mercilessly, especially considering the uncertainty of the situation, medically speaking. Unfortunately, I don't really have time at this precise second to write a whole update, I just wanted to let you know that a real post is coming soon....I am in creative outlet withdrawal, so I need to get back on the blogging horse asap, its just a question of making the time and finding the energy in between dividing a life completely in half between two cities, cultivating a relationship and home with the man I love (yeah, the whole moving in news got a little lost in cancerland), working two jobs and constantly trying to make up for the many hours missed while with Maman, and fighting valiantly to retain some shred of sanity and dignity amidst it all. I am still here, staying alive but no dancing queen. Hopefully the quest for balance will bear a little fruit soon...that or I will collapse completely (not that I haven't many a time already - The Wild Boar is a wild saint, to say the least). But for now, I cannot collapse as I have a humoungous stack of work in front of me, a party (thath I completely forgot about but cannot under any circumstances miss) for Mr. Artsy Hotpant's life transition into law school to go to shortly, and have stumbled into some sort of energy quicksand causing me to yawn every 10 seconds and slide further under my desk with every passing second. Muuuust goooo naaaapp noooowww....