How Do You Top January 28

Yesterday was without a doubt one of the worst days of my life that didn't involve losing a loved one.  Let's back up to December 30, when I discovered a lump in a delicate area, if you get my meaning *wink wink*.  That was a Wednesday and my primary doctor isn't in, so I called my gynecologist. There... mystery over ha!   Anyway, no one was available to see me that day but they could see me the next, which was weird because it was New Year's Eve.  I was nervous but glad they were able to see me quickly.  Trying to be logical I realized that this thing, whatever it was, wasn't there the day before and it couldn't be anything too terrible if I never noticed it before.  And believe me, it was noticeable.  So I go to my appointment the next day and I'm seen by a midwife since all the doctors had taken off.  There ya go, I knew it seemed weird they were open.  Anyway, she diagnosed what I had as a bartholin's cyst.  It's nothing worrisome and it's fairly common.  Cool.  It can sometimes be treated with antibiotics so she prescribed me some and I made an appointment for a follow up the next week with my doctor.   I was then told the size of mine was "significant".  This is a word I heard four times in regards to the size of my cyst.  It was said by the midwife, by 2 nurse friends I know and by my doctor the next week.

Significant:  sufficiently great or important to be worthy of attention; noteworthy

What can I say, I always strive to be the best and if I have to have a cyst, let it be the biggest most noteworthy cyst ever!

The next week I go see my regular gynecologist and she agrees that it is a bartholin's and gives me a different antibiotic since the "significant" size had not decreased.  If that didn't work, then she wold take a needle to it and drain it.  Ew!  But ok.  The antibiotic did not work, at least not on the cyst.  It did however get rid of the bronchitis that I had at the same time.  So, silver lining.

We scheduled my cystecomy (which I'm pretty sure is not an actual word and I think I might have just made it up) for January 28, yesterday.  I was ready.  While this bit of significance in my coochie was not painful or at all bothersome in any way, I really don't want it there anymore.  So I was ready to get rid of it.  Well, I got numbed up and the needle went in and nothing came out.  So a scalpel went in, and nothing came out (well some blood came out, but that was just from the incision).  My doctor was a little taken aback that nothing happened and decided that she probably shouldn't keep digging around down there and instead decided to send me to a specialist who may be more equipped to rid me of this thing.

While I was standing at the nurse's desk as the nurse tried to find me a specialist with an opening yesterday I heard her say this... "yes, gynecology oncology".   My eyes popped out of my head and landed on the desk.  This is nothing anyone ever wants to hear and not at all what I was expecting. And of course, the tears started to fall down on her desk.  And I couldn't stop them.  I'm in full blown freak out.  Oncology?  What?  I have cancer now? Are you kidding me?  I was told my fucking lube gland backed up!  That was the last I heard, not that I might have cancer!  The nurse is trying to be reassuring and saying that it's just precaution and not to get ahead of myself.  But I'm so far ahead of myself at this point I don't know what to do.  I leave the office with an appointment for 12 noon (same day, yesterday) with the gynecology oncologist.  And go to my car to cry some more.

I called the man, and told him and said I would be calling my mom to go with me.  He was obviously flummoxed and didn't know what to do or say.   I called my mom and told her I was on my way and what was going on.  She was on the spot, "I'll be ready when you get here."  So off I went, crying all the way, talking to my friend LP who has a calming way about her and has experienced many of the medical things I have so she's my most often go to when things get medical.  And she did calm me, somewhat.  But there was always that looming voice, "you have cancer" in the back of my head.  

After picking up mom and getting her the obligatory iced coffee, we were off.   While driving, the man texted asking where the appointment was and what the doctors name was so he could meet me there.  It takes awhile but he most often does figure out the right thing to do, and he did.  I waited until I arrived at the appointment and texted him to tell him the info and he said he would meet me there.  I was very early and he wasn't too far away, so it worked out.  I had a zillion papers to fill out as a new patient anyway.  So after I filled them out, I was called in.  My mom wanted to go in with me but the man had yet to arrive so I told her to wait out there for him.  

At this point, I am still bleeding from the wound in my coochie from the scalpel but it's not too bad. The oncologist came in and was like a dream.  She was the best I could have ever asked for.  She was kind, gentle, soothing and very reassuring.  And while her diagnosis wasn't definitive, she was "reasonably sure" that what I have is not cancer.  OMG, I could have kissed her!!  I had just come off several hours of absolutely panic, which by the way, reflected in my BP when they took my vitals. The nurse who took my vitals commented on my BP being high and I told her that they were closer to normal earlier in the day at my other doctors appointment but that I'm very nervous right now.  She reassuringly said, "honey, everyone who comes in that door is nervous."  And I don't doubt it at all.  So, I am having an MRI on Tuesday (2/2) to assess what it is, it's exact size and location and we will take it from there on the course of action.   It will be removed, she just needs to figure out if it can still be an in office easy peasy procedure, or a surgical not so easy peasy.  All I need to do is get a blood draw to make sure my kidneys are functioning normally.  They need to know this info because they use contrast during the MRI.

If I say the blood draw was fun, would you think I'm nuts?   It was kind of fun though.  The girl who was doing my draw was a student and when I rolled up my sleeve she caught a little glimpse of my Frankenstein tattoo.  Well, now her and her supervisor had questions, and wanted to see everything I had and were so excited by all my tattoos, especially my Sicily tattoo and my Grandma tattoo.  I was more than happy to show them and talk about something far more fun than cancer or blood or coochie lumps.  The amusing thing is, the supervisor kept saying "oh that was my favorite show!" when she was looking at Frankenstein and his Bride.  I think she thought they were the Munsters!  lol

Is that the end of the story?  Nope.  The rest of the day seemed business as usual.  Lunch, a little shopping, take mom home and then home.  It was a long day, I was very tired and emotionally drained and just wanted to be home, in my jammies, on my couch.  I was about 3 miles from my goal, when, while at a stoplight, fully stopped, I was rear ended by another car.  Are you fucking kidding me!?  I want this day to just go away!   January 28 fucking sucks donkey balls.  I was not hurt (a little sore today but that's standard) and neither was my car.  It's quite shocking actually because I was really really slammed, hard. The woman who hit me was hit by the kid behind her.  And yes, he was a kid.  A mere 18. Cute as can be and devastated beyond belief that this happened.   It was his second or third accident and he will most likely lose his license.  

The woman in the middle, however, was a complete raving bitch.  Granted, my first instinct upon impact was "WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!" and apparently it was hers too.  I didn't get out of the car the second it happened but I heard her screaming at the kid.  Screaming!!!   And he was probably in some version of shock. His airbag had deployed.  Mine didn't, hers didn't.  I know accidents are upsetting. This is the second time I was rear ended in several months.  There are a lot of emotions and anger is one of them.  And ok, her car was brand new (3 months old) it was really fucked up and so was his. But she continued to berate this kid over and over and over.  He was so upset and crying and she never relented.  I felt so bad for him.  He swore he wasn't texting.  His version is that he was trying to change lanes, turned around to see if any cars were coming so he could move over and didn't see that we were stopped.  

So it becomes a matter of waiting for police and then filling out police reports.  Me and the bitch sat in the back of the police cruiser filling out our papers and she kept making calls to tow trucks, to Nissan dealers (because dammit, her car had to be fixed with certified Nissan parts!).  The cop finally told her to get off the phone and do that later!   Thank you occifer, shut that bitch up already before I slap the shit out of her!  And after all that, I finally got to go home. All in all, my crapola day started around 8:30 am and ended a little after 7.  And it was the longest eleven-ish hours ever.  Fuck you January 28.  

This. Is. Crazy.

Dear Lalia 12 years ago,

I know you just left a job you loved, and not by choice but by circumstance of the branch being closed down.  It is what it is.  But girl, you have mad skills!  You are in demand so don't take too much time off.  Get back on that horse and find the next job of your dreams.

Love, you

Dear Me,

But, but, but....  You know as well as I do that I probably never would have left my job voluntarily.  So now that it's been taken from me, it's my chance to do something completely different, completely out of the box.  I love to cook, what if I try starting my own catering business.  I can work out of my house and it'll be great!  That's what I'm going to do.

Thanks, love you.... Lalia

It was great.  For a short time.  Until the economy took a nosedive.  Until I realized I couldn't cater jobs by myself.  Until I didn't have enough room in my house to store large trays of food or to cook large trays of food.  Until it wasn't great anymore.  So where does that leave me?   It's 12 years later and the economy is still in the shitter.  Money is tight and I need to work.  So I decide to go back to what I know, office work.  Well that's what I thought I'd be doing anyway.  There are jobs to be had, but the pay scale is so awful it's hard to wrap my hairdo around what is going on.

I had a job interview this week.  It sounded really good, interesting, different and even fun.  And the best part, they use Mac computers.  I'm a Mac girl through and through.  I love all things Apple.  I cried when Steve Jobs died.  I want to change my name to iLalia.  And Mac jobs are few and far between.  They pretty much don't exist unless you are in some kind of graphic design field.  This job is not exactly graphic design but along those lines.  It was pretty exciting to be called for an interview on this one.  So I went and all was well.  The job was nothing like anything I had done before but they seemed interested in me.  They seemed thrilled with all my Mac experience.   So I am liking how this is going.  Until they told me the salary.  $10 and hour.  Seriously.  $20K a year.  Do you know anyone who could live on that?  Me either.

OK yes, I've been out of work for a long time and I realize I have to start over.  But that is less than I was making 12 years ago.  Cost of living has changed.  Gas prices have changed.  Everything has changed.  I never thought I'd be making less than I was making back then.  Maybe the same, but most likely I expected a bit more because of cost of living changes.  So not the case.  

So what does one do, other than brood and cry and lament the fact that by trying to establish my own business I have in essence ruined my life.  Maybe that's not true, but it feels true.  There are so many things I want to do.  So many things out of my reach because I cannot find a job that will pay me enough to make those changes happen.  Do I change course and try a whole different line of work again?  Go with what you know seems logical.  But how can you go with what you know when everyone is struggling so much that companies can't pay better salaries?

When I'm in an interview and am asked the question, "What are you looking for?" My standard answer, with pauses at the appropriate times so it looks like I'm just making this up on the fly (ha!), is "Well... I'd like to be in a place where I like the people I'm working with.   Where I don't dread going everyday and where I'm doing work I can be proud of."  In both interviews I've had, I've used this line (it actually was on the fly in the first interview and went over so well I decided to use it again in the next one).  Both interviewers loved it, so feel free to use it if you find yourself in a similar position and are asked that question.  The thing is, it's not bullshit.   I do want to be around people I like, doing work I can be proud of, in a place I won't dread going to.  I'm 46 years old, on a fast track to 47.  I don't want to be one of those people on Facebook who posts some whiney ass graphic every Monday morning that declares how much Monday's suck.  I just want to be able to make ends meet.  It's not really a lot to ask.  But at the moment it feels completely unattainable.

PS... sorry all my posts are so angsty lately.

Frustrated Part Two

After all the unnecessary angst, the trip to Chicago was very very nice.  My mom was in heaven being with so much of her extended family that she doesn't see much anymore.  And it was nice for me to get to know some family I never really knew at all.  The drive was not too long but kind of boring (straight and nothing to see but a lot of cornfields).  My dad did very well with the people we hired to come in and check in on him, and my aunt and uncle came by to see him several times.  All in all, everything turned out beautifully.

Aunt Lucy's 90th birthday party was held at an Italian restaurant in Naperville and was just lovely.  The food was delicious, the desserts were to die for, and Aunt Lucy had a wonderful time.  She was so surprised by all who had come from out of town.  There were pictures of her throughout the years from very young until now.  Balloons that said 90 years old on them.  She wore a lovely corsage.  On every table were placards with things that happened the year she was born.  No detail was left out.  It was really special.

And then it happened.  The fucking bitch cousin of mine who was not invited because she's a fucking bitch and is always getting in people's faces and causing trouble (and she's 48 years old!!) found out about the party.  How?  The bitch was snooping around on my Facebook page.  She is not on my friends list and I have my FB page set to friends only, so I don't know how she did it, but she saw a post I made about being in Chicago for my aunt's 90th birthday party.  Can you even guess what she did with this information?  I bet you can't.  Because normal people don't think this way or react this way.  She called up 90 year old Aunt Lucy and SCREAMED at her.  She ripped her up one side and down the other about not being invited to the party.  She blamed her, she blamed my aunts son, she blamed my mother (!!), she blamed everyone but herself and her own fucked up behavior.  She succeeded in upsetting Aunt Lucy greatly, but did not succeed in causing any regrets.  In fact Aunt Lucy got a big dose of why it was the right move not inviting her.  And she said that no matter what that fucked up bitch says, she cannot take away the beautiful time she had.  OK, Aunt Lucy didn't call her a fucked up bitch, but I don't know what else to call her.  Aunt Lucy said it was the best day of her life and nothing can take that away from her.

I can't remember if I have mentioned this before, but this is the cousin who lived with my Grandma and made her last years so miserable.  She would yell at my Grandma that way, for no reason, and there was never anything we could do about it because my Grandma always defended her.  It made me crazy.  The woman is seriously disturbed and I hate her fucking guts.  And whenever I think she is out of my life for good, that we have no more to tie us to each other, she comes back into our lives like a cockroach.  A diseased, disgusting cockroach.  She even had the audacity to tell Aunt Lucy that my mom and I turned everyone against her.  Yeah we did that.  It has nothing to do with the fact that she's a psycho hell bitch.  Seriously, like I have the time or inclination to bother turning anyone against anyone else.  It's the rantings of a lunatic.

At any rate, I don't know what happens from here.  Something?  Nothing?  I don't know.  Aunt Lucy's son may want to take it up with her and quite frankly if I wouldn't blame him.  The mind boggles at someone who would bitch out a 90 year old who merely attended her own surprise party and was not a part of the invitation sending.

And with that, I turn my rant off and leave you with a song that reminds me of my darling psycho hell bitch of a cousin..

Frustrated Incorporated

Joblessness aside, my frustrations are still many.  Bear with me, I'm going to vent a little (or maybe a lot, we'll just have to see how it goes as I begin writing).  Back in June right after I interviewed for the job I wanted, my mom asked me if I could drive her and my father to Chicago the weekend of August 10.  And she asked again a few weeks later.  And she asked again a few weeks later.  And she asked again a few weeks later.  My standard answer each time was, "It all depends on if I get the job or not."  This fact apparently didn't sink in, thus the continual asking.  Finally this past week she asked yet again, for the final time.  Silly me, I had just figured that since I clearly did not get the job, the answer was obvious... yes I'll take you.   I didn't want to do this.  But it's a family event and something that is extremely important to her.  And as usual, there is no one else who could do it.  Why?  I have no idea.  Lots of family from Cleveland are going.  Why they couldn't help out this once and take my parents is a mystery.  But that's besides the point.  I am now taking them.  You may or may not know that my father is handicapped and this makes everything much more difficult.  We can argue that this is why no one else wanted to take them (and frankly there would be no argument, that's the reason, mystery solved).

Two days after we establish that yes, I'm taking them, mom says to me (very casually I might add), "you do know your father's not going right?"  Um, how would I know this unless you told me?   And she hadn't.  Apparently dad threw a fit, screamed and ranted and said he was not going and she couldn't make him go.  Suddenly this trip takes on a whole different dynamic.  I'm not trying to sound cold or unfeeling but if you've ever been a caregiver (and I have), you know how difficult it can be.  My mom is his main caregiver now and giving her a weekend away from that life, that stress, sounded good.  It sounded good to her too.  That is until I asked what Dad will be doing for the weekend we're away and she said, "he wants to stay home alone."  Oh no... oh no no no that is so not going to happen!  At this point my mom just kind of shrugged and said, "if that's what he wants to do, then he can do it."  She said he was going to call his brother (my uncle duh) and ask him to come by a few times and check on him and that was that.  No.   This is not enough.  Granted my father can do a lot more for himself than he does, but I don't think 3 days alone is the time to test those waters.  And mom was just so focused on being away, seeing her extended family and just basking in the time to herself she wasn't really thinking clearly.  And she's 80.

When I went home that day I called my brother and we talked about the fact that dad should not be alone all that time and were trying to think of solutions.  All was calm, no drama.  Although I will say that I was a tad bit annoyed that my brother (and his nurse wife, hello!) did not offer to go check on dad at all the weekend we'll be away.  Remember that no help I was talking about?  A day goes by and all is quiet.  And then, it's Friday morning and at 8 am my sister calls from Alabama in a tizzy.  She's in an uproar because dad is going to be alone that weekend. I'm just waking up and I'm confused.  Everything was being worked out as far as I knew.  But as it turns out my uncle was busy and could not come by to check on him (not at all, all weekend.  Remember that no help I was talking about?).  This is the story of my life.  Everyone is too busy to help out.  I don't get that luxury.  So as I listen to her rant and rave and try to bark out orders on what has to be done, my cell phone rings and it's my brother in Florida.  I hang up with sis to talk to him and he too is in a tizzy, although his tizzies are calmer and more level headed.

Apparently all hell broke loose on Thursday and I had no idea.  Mom got in a fight with Cleveland bro, who seems to think mom is being selfish for wanting something for herself and basically told her so.  Aunt told mom "I cannot believe you would leave him alone a whole weekend," thus piling the guilt trip on her more (even though she and my uncle couldn't be bothered to check on him).  Mom in turn tries to force dad to go to Chicago and the screaming escalates to fever pitch.  Florida bro just happened to call mom after all this happened and she was upset and crying.  No one bothered to tell me any of this at the time.  Instead, Florida bro and Alabama sis spoke to each other and decided they needed to step in.  This may sound counter to what I've said previously about no one stepping up to help out but if they are going to panic every time something happens, then they need to butt the fuck out.  They do not live here.  They don't know how things are on a day to day basis.  They always end up making things worse.  Help is only good if it's actually helpful.  If they had just called me when all this shit was going down (drama drama drama!!!) things might not have escalated.  But the sad fact is, no matter how much I do for how long (I have been basically in charge of my mom and dad for 6 years now) I am still the youngest (even though I'm 46) and I am still looked upon as not being able to handle anything.  Newsflash, I handle EVERYTHING.

So as Florida bro is telling me about a call he put in to a friend who has an ill father and wondering what she does when she needs help (a good idea), I tell him that our cousin is a paid companion for the elderly and, even though he's going to Chicago as well, maybe he knows someone.  He likes this idea so I hang up with him, call my sister back and tell her.  She's down with it, and then I call mom and, although I don't yell at her I do make it very clear that I'm very unhappy that she did not call me and inform me about all the angst.  And that I had to find out from my out of state brother and sister what is going on with her and my father, whom I see every week and talk to almost every day.  Then I tell her what I'm going to do and she too likes the idea.  I call my cousin, we talk, he gives me the number of the place he works for.  I call, they are incredibly helpful and understanding.  This is what they do. They are hired.  We have someone coming in each day from 1 pm to 7 pm.  They will make him lunch, hang out with him for the day, make him dinner, clean up and go.  Lalia to the rescue yet again.  Wouldn't it just be easier if everyone could realize that I know what the fuck I'm doing.  I know how to handle stress situations with our parents.  And if they can't just fucking chill and come up with a solution without all the drama and screaming, they should all just shut the fuck up.

And PS we're all pissed off at Cleveland bro for offering NO help whatsoever.

And now that that is settled, I hope to actually enjoy the weekend in Chicago with my mom.

How Did We Get Here?

I've come to the end of my several weeks of angst.  This particular several weeks of angst, I should clarify.  I'm sure I'll have more in the future.   But this particular dilemma, trauma, whatever you want to call it, is now over.  It's hard to look at the time I spent on someone as a waste.  I do not think of it as a waste.  I think that people come into our lives at certain times to fill a need, or you fill a need for them.  And I think we absolutely did that for each other.  I'm not sure I can say the friendship is over, because I'm not sure it ever will be completely over.  But I do see it with much more clarity now, meaning I have accepted that I'll never really know what happened and have decided to move the fuck on.

I've been reflecting on a lot of things lately, writing in my Bite Me book.  What can I say, I get introspective from time to time (to time).  What I have been thinking about is how certain people come into your life and how others come back into your life after long periods of absence.  My pain filled tirades of late have given way to something completely different and unexpected.  A few days ago, I felt the closure I needed from that situation, the most closure I'll get anyway and I am as over it as I will ever be.  And that same night the man and I went out with R, an old beau of mine, to see an old friend of ours band.  And as that night went on, I realized I was out with two guys I have known over 25 years, watching another friend I've known even longer.  And it put so much in perspective.

At one point, R said to me, "isn't it cool that all these years later we can still hang out together?"  And the answer is, it's amazing.  R and I have been in touch, here and there for about 10 years or so, but before that we hadn't been in touch for over 10 years.  And now it's quite possible that we will remain in touch again.  We had a great time and are looking forward to hanging out some more.  It was the first time we have gone out together in probably about 23 or so years.  We did run into each other about 9 months ago but it wasn't a planned get together.  This was planned and it was nice, fun, oh fuck who am I kidding... it totally fucking rocked!

I got to wondering what brings people back into your life after a long absence?  And I think the answer is that everyone is looking for something familiar.  R and I did not have a falling out at all, we just drifted.  It happens.  And so introspection begets introspection and wonder begets wonder.  When I reconnected with TM, who incidentally is the friend who's band we went to see.  TM and I talked about everything and how much we had thought about each other or told others stories about things we had done together.  So I knew that TM had been thinking about me over the years the way I had been thinking about him.  With R, who knows.  I'm not sure it matters, but I'll guess yes, he has thought of me over the years.  Fondly I might add.  If not, why even bother starting a friendship again?  I have certainly thought about him, and have written about him here several times.  He is someone I have always cared about.  Not taking away anything from the friends I have made since then, the friends you make when you are at the pinnacle of your life are always the best ones aren't they?  What I mean is, in those formative years, the people who are around you at those times are the ones you tend to gravitate back to.  Because they are familiar.  Because they were with you when.  Because they know you inside and out and they get it, they get who you are.  Because you know, without a shred of doubt they care about you and always will.  It's like what Richard Dreyfuss as adult Gordie said in the movie Stand by Me... "I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?"  For me, I've never had any friends like the ones I had when I was in my early 20's.

I have some amazing friends in my life now.  Of course I do, L, and L, and R, and A, and my PBAU peeps and the gardeners and my SLUTS (don't ask).  And I love them, they've been there for me when I needed them and I hope I have done the same in return.   And now, even if another 20 years goes by and I never speak to R, TM, or M I know without any uncertainty that I matter to them.  I know it about others too. And knowing that means everything.  And now I have it, for all eternity in print.  And when I feel like I am unworthy of someone, or have a situation like what happened recently happen again (which I hope it never does!), I can come here and see how much I really do have and how blessed I am.