Played a great gig, turned down a really great gig, death of a friends cancer patient husband.

Last night - had a great time at a gig at a fancy thing. Lots of rich folks who can't dance. Funny though, they didn't feed us. Which, in the end was very good for me - as I could control myself with a protein bar and coconut water which was in my bag. Hopped over to hubby's gig and enjoyed a refreshing and potent beverage. If I knew what was in it... but it did taste like pears and drunken smiles.

Tonight, I am missing an epic gig. Why? Because I was not right for it. It is funny, even just a few years back, I would have done it, put it on my resume, and hoped that nobody saw it (it's in an arena type setting, so chances are I'd be all over youtube etc. in my epic failedness). But I would literally have done it for the status. Why? The pay for this event sucked. And I would have missed other work that paid me about half of what this paid - the anxiety was through the roof when I got the tracks. It is GREAT music, the kind of shit that I would listen to on my own time. But, I'm not that player. The final straw was when they told me to make sure that I learned the part on a TOTALLY DIFFERENT INSTRUMENT. I own one, but heck if I've even taken it out of the case in, oh, 15-20 years. Yeah, not my gig.

Valuable lessons as an artist - never take a gig that is not meant for you. Ok, not never. But on an epic scale? You will not only chance ruining or at least tarnishing your reputation, but ruining someone's show! That is super suck-ass.

So, my very full resume - yes, it is nice - will stay as is. Am I mad? No. I'm so relieved. I decided to finally color my hair (my grays have quadrupled at LEAST since the tamoxifen). Hubs has another night at his gig - same as last night - I am on 4 hours of sleep so I decided a home-spa night was my best bet. And yes, my hair color is not a commercial one - it's plant based, and not perfect, but works well. I can't do granola 100% if it doesn't work!

So I sit here, my freshly colored hair wrapped in a towel, in my fuzzy robe, thinking about doing my nails (with natural polish, of course!) for Friday's gig since I have time. I need to do some cleaning, and my eyes are burning right out of my head from the lack of sleep with the pollen in the air, and I need to practice (still not recovered from the tamoxinightmare, so I have lots of work to do). We'll see. If I conk out in a couple of hours, then I will be a healthier person tomorrow. If I somehow stay awake for some reason, I will make it productive.

My weight... my weight has gone down a hairball, but my body has started to shift back to ME. Oh my goodness. I'm starting to get my waist back. I do NOT look good as a potato! On the meds, with my hormones screwed up, I saw a glimpse into my post-menopausal future - which I hope to experience SOMEDAY, and not now. It wasn't horrible, but I'm too young. Even though I haven't had gym time, things are shifting back. I actually look like myself again, more and more each day.

I'm half Japanese. So, this may be my aging process: 

A friend of mine lost her husband last weekend. I remember when she found out I had cancer. She got really quiet and teary eyed. Told me her husband also had cancer. He had a LOT of medical complications. To the point where things were coming out of places that they shouldn't (basically, he pooped out of his penis and had to get several colostomy bags - yes, it's a true story). But they loved each other and lived life to the fullest. Did he die from the cancer?

He fell into the subway tracks and got hit by a train.

I don't even know what to say to her - I had to miss the funeral because of my gig last night. Awful. I may get her some books to help her through her grief (Pema Chodron comes to mind, but if anyone else has an idea, please let me know). I am not a flower kind of girl - they make me sad. I'm not making her a casserole. I want to get her something that she can turn to for comfort, and while food IS comforting, I want it to have meaning.

I want to bring her husband back to her, but that's not likely. So, I can bring her comfort and love.

Life is short and unpredictable. Will this cancer kill me? Will a train? Will a lightening bolt? Who knows. So, you enjoy every moment, you don't take the inappropriate gigs, you love your life, and you bring the world some happiness, however you can.

Blood sugar, anxiety, happiness, kitchen redo.

I've been feeling so out of sorts recently.  A lot of things - good things, bad things, whatever. Been having enough anxiety to make me feel miserable at times. My blood sugar has been flip flopping, making me so zoned out and/or irritable that I hate myself at times. But, I'm oddly happy, deep down - always.

I can't figure out the blood sugar thing, except that my sugar cravings have taken a nosedive since the tamoxifen, which is good. And my body is shifting back to where it was. Also good. But my weight (number) has been stubborn, which wreaks havoc on my brain.

My musical stuff? The aftermath of the meds has lightened up a lot, but my brain can't come back. So, though I'm coming back physically to where I was before, if my brain isn't cooperating, then my chops can't. So, here I am. What a dilemma. I need a hypnotist. No, I'm not kidding. I need to be able to convince my brain, my heart, how I am who I used to be again. But, all I feel is incapable and anxious beyond belief. I don't show the outside world, but boy, I feel it inside. There are many, many times that I want to just quit. I anxiously do gigs and get through ok, though the "comeback" of my chops is hit or miss. I seem to worry more about the folks I love who hire me and their reputations, over my own. But, I believe, that so far I have not let anyone down enough to be an issue. I guess my game face is pretty good.

But the anxiety sucks balls.

So I breathe and try to make it to the other side. Sometimes I want to scream at the ego-driven folks around me, tell them that there is more to life than being cool. Because I feel far from it, but also, I know. I leave my mind as empty as I can (not too difficult most times) and try to make it through, so I can crawl into bed at night and try to breathe evenly and sleep instead of tool around on Facebook and play words with friends all night. My friends, apparently, tend to be night owls. Robot Chicken is often an excellent temporary solution to my anxiously filled brain. It seems to siphon out the worry and anxiety with bizarre, inappropriate laughter.

Also, had a consult with our kitchen contractor. I want my kitchen redone. ASAP. I don't want to die knowing that my kitchen will be gross forever for my family. This has been on my mind since diagnosis. Weird, no? We love to cook. We spend tons of time in there. So, we had our consult, all happy times... until I started realizing how much cash I'm talking about dropping. We're talking about ripping everything out - all new cabinetry, counters, knocking down some walls, new appliances. OH MY GOD. But, I don't want to wait until I can't enjoy it. We actually talked about that - how folks will fix up their homes in order to sell them. You mean, you have this gorgeous new stuff and it's all for the new owners? Screw that.

So I need to breathe deep and realize that this has been my desire for many years - pretty much since I had moved in. New, happy, light filled kitchen. I actually can technically wait on new appliances for a while, but at the same time, it would make sense to build around the new appliances. We looked at stuff today, and I know that technically I should invest in all of this. And, I will.

Crap.

It's a lot to think about, along with everything else.

However, if we do this ASAP, we can have a new kitchen by summer. And, I know from last years redoing the kitchen floor, it will change my life.

And how much life is left? Who knows. But, when I drop dead, hubby and daughter will be here. Then daughter. Her kids, if she changes her mind on that point. At least her cats. Blahblahblah. I own the apartment, and it's the kind of place that nobody moves out of. Hard to explain, but it's the truth.

Onward.

Girl Fats

Well, my Girl Fats is officially back.

Why would I call it that? My daughter's grade school offered an event called "Girl Facts" and we went when she was in the 4th grade.

When she handed me the form, she had crossed out the c in "facts". She said, "Mom, we don't want to go to this. That's insulting."

So we went.

As we entered, she was handed a slip of paper to write down any questions she had. Before the assembly, but I suppose that was to avoid the embarrassment of standing up and asking a question about menstruation. She wrote: "When can we leave?"

Yup. That's my girl.

Anyway, tummy has been iffy the past few days, so I knew it was around the corner. Hurrah for estrogen!

Of course, I'm starving, bloated, exhausted... need to go to the gym before hubs gets home in 2 hours. But all I can do it eat left overs and drink matcha tea that normally wakes me up, and all I want to do is nap.  I did wake up exhausted, and have had a very fully day thus far. Perhaps, even though I need the workout, it is better to nap. I get a date night with hubby tonight, and certainly would like to enjoy it! The past few date nights that we've managed to crush into our schedule have been on little sleep, or with the plague, or just a hug in passing. F that.

Ok, decision made. My hormones are telling me to lay down and close my eyes. Sheesh.  Girl fats, indeed. I guess tomorrow's workout will be double. Yeah... that's it... double.

New oncologist!

WOOO! We met with Oncology Contestant #3. Glad we didn't get to the swimsuit competition... but the doc talked to us about my case, about my decision to stop the tamoxifen, about my quality of life, family, career, and I do believe we have a winner! Plus, he loves good music.

He also said that my reconstruction was amazing. AMAZING. Made me smile. Because I think so too, given what we had to work with and how mangled and burnt it was.

I do believe my hormones are on a rampage today. Wicked cramps. Bloating. Got better as the day rolled on, and technically my period is *due* today. Of course, since I've been stuck on Mr. Toad's Wild Ride, I don't know when the f*ck anything is happening. All I know is, I'm happy now that the awful meds are leaving my system. Still recovering, recuperating, and hoping that everything will function as it had been previously. But I can smile. Ain't that something?

A long week, back spasms on air, bad news from Champagne, Spring is finally in the air. Sort of.

It's been a crazy week. Gigging, including 2 tv shows. Today's show was interesting, as I breathed in to perform, my back seized up. I think it's overcompensating for my lacking lung power from this stupid plague. I think I made it to the end ok, though.

Heard from my love, Champagne Joy, that her cancer has come back, after 3 years on tamoxifen with all of the horrendous side effects. I'm so angry. At the medical community. At the pharmaceutical community. These pills torture us, and then she comes back with Stage 4 metastatic  which spread to her axilla, liver and bones. I mean, what the FUCK??? How do you even wrap your brain around that shit? A rarity - I'm speechless. All I can do is send love.

Deliriously tired on this gorgeous day. The sun is shining like mad. And all I want to do is lay down and sleep... but... a) my hair and makeup look amazing from the gig b) hubby is on his way home from his gig c) I haven't seen the sun like this in months. So, I'm enjoying the coffee that I had abandoned earlier this morning and am going to try and power through.

Because I'm alive today. Who knows if I'll wake up tomorrow. I need to breathe in the universe. Hopefully my back won't spasm again!