Sorry I got off track with the ex. It's funny, people either forget their stupid pasts in light of illness, or really show their true colors. I'm going to show mine by continuing to be a hilarious human being, by trying my best to NOT let anyone bring me down (even you, Cancer - stupid bitch!!!), being Mom and Wife to the most amazing people in my tiny family, and by rocking my career up until my surgery date.
Yup. That's right. I almost turned down a bunch of really cool work when I got my diagnosis. I was so scared that I'd have to back out last minute, I'd let people down, but the truth? Doctors are happy to work around MY schedule. I mean, they can't operate with me not there, right? I'm glad I'm not on death's door - so we could wait a bit. And I have gotten more calls, it seems every nook and cranny could possibly be filled from now until surgery! What the .... !!!
Today, I received my surgery date. October 24th. Mark it down in your calendars. Don't eat after midnight to show your solidarity with my breasts if you feel like it - I sure hope I'm not hormonal when this rolls around, 'cuz I can sure wolf down 3 times my weight in snacks when the timing is right (or wrong)! I have been through several surgeries with my daughter and always hated the no eating rule - I get it, but try to tell a 4 month old that she can't eat or drink anything after midnight until they put her under. Um, I was never great at baby talk, but if she could go through the heinous situation several times in the past 10 years, I can do this. In fact, her last surgery was a doozy - and with 3 sites healing, swelling like mad, she refused even baby tylenol. I think she's more Surgery Gangsta than her mom. Maybe I can learn from her. But, just in case, I'll keep some pain meds handy. At least some wine, as long as hubby opens the cork for me (and I'm allowed a sip by the docs!)
Yes, a few skills I realized I can work on while recovering. Opening a wine bottle. I'm the worst. I barely drink, which might be part of the problem, but I can mangle a cork like nobody's business. Perhaps I should start purchasing wine in a box. I can also catch up on a million shows. We don't have tv, but thanks to Netflix, I can fry my brain by letting the screen tell me everything - no need for imagination!
More useful skills I can work on - learning a new language. Learning to play the piano better than a toddler. Cleaning out every nook and cranny in our home and making the Goodwill jump for joy. Of course, I'll need some help with all the scar tissue and pain and what not, but it's one of those projects that I always want to get done and get bits and pieces rolling once in a while. I want to simplify.
I also want a massage chair. A REALLY good one. We don't have the cash for one, but damn, it seems like an investment in my health. I have back issues anyway, and I can only imagine that lying on my stomach on a massage table will be painful and scary. And what therapist would be willing to drive their elbows into my back, knowing what my front has just been through?
Any good suggestions? I have credit cards. What the hell. I guess I can consider it a welcome gift to my new boobies. Or something. Help me out, folks.
I think insurance should pay for crap like that. Or at least help out. Seriously, recovery clocks in at around 6 weeks. Depression, pain, inability to do what I do for a living, and then the requirement to crawl before I walk in my talent - I'm old! I've worked hard! Now I'm going to have to start over again... I think I deserve a present that will help me recover.
I'd also like a really shallow gift - but eventually I'll buy it or outgrow it. It's a fancy handbag. And I love handbags. And it's a classic that I could pass down to my daughter - if she ever decides to like girl things. However, chair first.
Then, new cancer free boobs.
In the meantime, clear the home, watch some mind numbing tv, learn a language, learn to open a bottle of wine without looking like a complete ass, become a pianostic virtuoso.
Then, career back on track.
Eventually, new handbag.
Funny thing about being an artist. Everyone wants to work. I'm very lucky in getting calls as I do. A short time ago, I got a message from someone in the business, just saying "hi". This person never says hi. In fact, I can't really remember a time that this person was kind to me, though I was incredibly kind in their direction.
Something tells me that the cancer cat got out of the bag, and said person wants my gigs while I'm out of commission.
I know my people. As hubby likes to identify human beings as being "our people" or not... this is not "our people". But I can only hope that folks like this will eventually grow up or learn a lesson. Yes, I'll need to refer others to gigs that I have to turn down due to an inactive career, in the healing phase. Those gigs will go to "my people", those who say hi and mean, "how are you? I really care about you as a person and not as someone who can possibly get me a gig".
Enough of this negativity. Just puking out some stuff that left a bad aftertaste. Message deleted. Smile on my face. Because, by mid December, I will be among the living, and working toward being better at what I do than I am now. And I like to envision that I will be kicking ass by January or February, even if they are small asses.
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