That's where we are. Deep in the bowels of the University of New Mexico's Cancer Research Center. We're a loooong way from any wall with windows in it, on the first floor of many, and I can feel the pressure of the massive building as it deadens this room. There are six comfy vinyl chairs and one bed placed around the perimeter, each with a slightly comfy upright chair beside it for family members such as myself and Rosalinde. The three of us: Mom, Rosalinde, and I, came to Albuquerque on Sunday, March 1st. Back into Casa Esperanza, the motel-like home for families with cancer. The 2nd of March saw us get Mom's blood work done, then a bit of shopping in the afternoon. On the 3rd, Mom had a (somewhat) minor surgical procedure: having a port put in to her upper right chest wall, with a small tube leading up under her skin to above her clavicle, where another inscision let the surgeon loop in down into her carotid artery and down into her aorta.
A port is a little plastic thingie about the size of a quarter, but as thick as 5 of them. It's surface is just below the skin and allows easy access for a specially shaped needle to be inserted through her skin (yes, it still hurts) to allow the chemo drugs to be placed directly into her blood stream near her heart, with less side effects than inserting them directly in to an IV in her arm. The port can be left in place for a year or so, with monthly flushing.
This session of chemo introduction will last around 6 or 8 hours of slooooowness. Mom's on Ativan and Benadryl and is Out Cold, in LaLa Land. It takes me 30 seconds or so of shaking, hand holding, and calling into her ear to get her to respond, if only slugishly, for her regular stats. A nice way of injecting poison in to your blood stream, if there is such a thing.
Every chair is occupied with a receiver or family support person, there's tubes, bags, and chiming instruments every where, there's a insistent odor of alcohol, vinyl, essence of hospital, and some baseline of an unknown but mildly disgusting eau de fart. And everyone's waiting. It takes a varying amount of time to introduce poison into one's blood stream without killing them, but it's always long.
Enough.
We'll see.
D
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
My New Vacation
Wow.
I mean WOW. One of those surly gods on Mount Olympus just stirred the pot. I'm having a sweet vacation but not the one I expected. It's been a week and a half since I've had the emotional space to write so here I go:
Saturday, the 14th, was the day I peaked on the craziness scale. Naomi had called with a recommendation from my brother that I come home. That my mother was declining. Mish, Caspar, and I had spent most of the 13th running around, doing paperwork, in San Antonio, another seaport an hour or so to the south. We just squeaked through, getting our bikes put together and running, with no time to spare before the wharehouse closed for the weekend. For some stupid reason, I took charge of getting us home, having studied the road map on the way there. The 3 of us were on our bikes and the wonderful sisters who drove us there were behind. I was sure I saw a short cut but somehow I left San Antonio on the wrong road and by the time I stopped we were half way to Santiago and still an hour from Valporaiso. I hit the wall emotionally. I was beyond even being able to speak and meakly followed the rest as they worked out a route back to Valporaiso.
The next morning, the 15th, we spent the morning tracking down somewhere to store the KLR that we had spent all the previous day getting out of storage. I'd already switched my return flight to the night of the 15th and as the day wore on my chances of making the flight were waning. Finally Mish, probably from self protection because I was so dreadful and stressed to be around, sat me down and asked "What do you want right now?" And when I put my fears of losing my friends by asking too much of them, I had to say that I wanted to see my mother. All else was secondary. This is where one finds out how true his friends are. Mish and Caspar told me to just pack and get ready to go to the Santiago airport and they would take care of everything else. When I fully accepted their offer, a massive weight lifted. The effect was immediate. Not only did they take care of getting my KLR into storage for a year, but they even arrainged, with more help from the most sweet, friendly, and helpful sisters, to drive me to the the Santiago airport, park the car and stay with me til I made it through Aduana. As I said, Wow.
The whole time my Mother was in the hospital, the University of New Mexico Cancer Center, I will keep private. Just to say that the nurses, doctors, and staff who worked there were the kindest, most patient, and attentive that I had ever seen. All of my siblings were there, Naomi and Megan came for 3 days, Doug and Deborah came for several days, and only when Mom went home on the 20th or so (my memory is already fuzzy on the exact day) did every one return home. Since then, Mom and I have been at the Ranch and it's been a real treat to spend this time with her. Rosalinde and Al are right next door and are an integral part of Mom's recovery, as usual. Hiking, staring off in to space, reading, chatting, make up our days. Not being in any hurry is such a joy. I've been saying for years that I want to visit the Ranch more, and here I am. A true vacation. Just not the one I thought I was going to have.
We'll see.
D
I mean WOW. One of those surly gods on Mount Olympus just stirred the pot. I'm having a sweet vacation but not the one I expected. It's been a week and a half since I've had the emotional space to write so here I go:
Saturday, the 14th, was the day I peaked on the craziness scale. Naomi had called with a recommendation from my brother that I come home. That my mother was declining. Mish, Caspar, and I had spent most of the 13th running around, doing paperwork, in San Antonio, another seaport an hour or so to the south. We just squeaked through, getting our bikes put together and running, with no time to spare before the wharehouse closed for the weekend. For some stupid reason, I took charge of getting us home, having studied the road map on the way there. The 3 of us were on our bikes and the wonderful sisters who drove us there were behind. I was sure I saw a short cut but somehow I left San Antonio on the wrong road and by the time I stopped we were half way to Santiago and still an hour from Valporaiso. I hit the wall emotionally. I was beyond even being able to speak and meakly followed the rest as they worked out a route back to Valporaiso.
The next morning, the 15th, we spent the morning tracking down somewhere to store the KLR that we had spent all the previous day getting out of storage. I'd already switched my return flight to the night of the 15th and as the day wore on my chances of making the flight were waning. Finally Mish, probably from self protection because I was so dreadful and stressed to be around, sat me down and asked "What do you want right now?" And when I put my fears of losing my friends by asking too much of them, I had to say that I wanted to see my mother. All else was secondary. This is where one finds out how true his friends are. Mish and Caspar told me to just pack and get ready to go to the Santiago airport and they would take care of everything else. When I fully accepted their offer, a massive weight lifted. The effect was immediate. Not only did they take care of getting my KLR into storage for a year, but they even arrainged, with more help from the most sweet, friendly, and helpful sisters, to drive me to the the Santiago airport, park the car and stay with me til I made it through Aduana. As I said, Wow.
The whole time my Mother was in the hospital, the University of New Mexico Cancer Center, I will keep private. Just to say that the nurses, doctors, and staff who worked there were the kindest, most patient, and attentive that I had ever seen. All of my siblings were there, Naomi and Megan came for 3 days, Doug and Deborah came for several days, and only when Mom went home on the 20th or so (my memory is already fuzzy on the exact day) did every one return home. Since then, Mom and I have been at the Ranch and it's been a real treat to spend this time with her. Rosalinde and Al are right next door and are an integral part of Mom's recovery, as usual. Hiking, staring off in to space, reading, chatting, make up our days. Not being in any hurry is such a joy. I've been saying for years that I want to visit the Ranch more, and here I am. A true vacation. Just not the one I thought I was going to have.
We'll see.
D
Friday, February 13, 2009
Ooooh, Baby
Not so many hours ago I was saying ¨Life Is Good¨- Now I feel like life sucks. I´m in a lose-lose-lose. I may be losing my mother, and I don´t know how it is for others, but it´s a big fucking deal in my life. Nobody, and I mean nobody can understand what I feel unless they´ve felt this. My Mom´s on the edge and I´m losing my vacation. Which I will give up in a heartbeat for her, no questions asked, but still...... How does anyone even survive this?
We'll see.
D
We'll see.
D
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Still wandering through time
2/12/009
Evening- just finished my share of two bottles of quite good wine and conversation with our Kiwi neighbor and a pair from Canada. Talk ranged from spouses to Spanish with much liveliness between. Five (the 3 amigos plus a Kiwi and a sister of the Hostel manager) took a taxi up the hill to Pablo Neruda´s house, one of several he lived in around the world, then walked aaallll the way back. Neruda built his house like he wrote - passionate, a bit crazy, and unexpected. I enjoyed it. Stopped for a fine meal at, oddly enough, the same restaurant that I ended up at last night while bar hopping. Looks a lot different in the light of day.
But as I get sleepy, I´m trying to decide whether to go to sleep (the intelligent option, it´s 9 PM), go buy some booze (the visceral option), or go buy dinner and head to bed (whether it´s Naomi's option or not, I feel like I'm channelling her when I consider this one). Visceral wins.
Choices, choices, choices.
Several Vodka tonics later, I´m writing this blog entry.
We'll see.
D
Evening- just finished my share of two bottles of quite good wine and conversation with our Kiwi neighbor and a pair from Canada. Talk ranged from spouses to Spanish with much liveliness between. Five (the 3 amigos plus a Kiwi and a sister of the Hostel manager) took a taxi up the hill to Pablo Neruda´s house, one of several he lived in around the world, then walked aaallll the way back. Neruda built his house like he wrote - passionate, a bit crazy, and unexpected. I enjoyed it. Stopped for a fine meal at, oddly enough, the same restaurant that I ended up at last night while bar hopping. Looks a lot different in the light of day.
But as I get sleepy, I´m trying to decide whether to go to sleep (the intelligent option, it´s 9 PM), go buy some booze (the visceral option), or go buy dinner and head to bed (whether it´s Naomi's option or not, I feel like I'm channelling her when I consider this one). Visceral wins.
Choices, choices, choices.
Several Vodka tonics later, I´m writing this blog entry.
We'll see.
D
Alcohol is Good
2/11/09
So, tonight I´m in a bar -¨Taco´s Bar¨- alone, having my third Pisco Sour, having walked around Valporaiso, in and out of various places, finding where people hang out here in this weird mirror of California. Found on FUN kareoke bar full of beautiful (at least beautifully put together) women. Who, of course, ignore me. Not that I´m looking. Although I suppose a quick glance would be nice.
I just want to be alone, if around people, only those who I don´t know. Anonymous. That´s what I want to be. Eases the pain. I can´t stand the sandpaper of any one that I know having any thoughts/expectations/pictures about how I should act. Not even a hint. All that consumes me is the thought that my mother is gravely ill and I`m here, not there.
Just talked to Rosalinde for half an hour. Rosalinde, Patricia, and Shaun are FANTASTIC! I can´t describe how wonderful it is to know that they´re there. It allows me to be here, knowing Mom´s take care of by three Fierce Warriors Who Shall Not Be Crossed. But still I´m in agony. I want to moan, cry out to the world that my Mother is Ill. It´s so monumental to me that the world has to know about it. Earthshaking. Vast and wide. The earth is moving. And I want to throw things, break things, destroy things because I feel destroyed inside.
FUCK FUCK FUCK!
And that doesn´t even begin to describe it.
Mish has been good and kind, serving me food and tea, letting me be alone to feel what I feel. And I feel soooo much. I can´t believe that no one else here shares my agony. The few I´ve told are sympathetic but no way can they really know my experience, what I feel. Where´s the Vulcan Mind Meld when you need it?
3rd Pisco Sour is getting me a bit messed up. Good. I care little, or at least less now. And now, perhaps, I´m ready to go home.
We'll see.
D
So, tonight I´m in a bar -¨Taco´s Bar¨- alone, having my third Pisco Sour, having walked around Valporaiso, in and out of various places, finding where people hang out here in this weird mirror of California. Found on FUN kareoke bar full of beautiful (at least beautifully put together) women. Who, of course, ignore me. Not that I´m looking. Although I suppose a quick glance would be nice.
I just want to be alone, if around people, only those who I don´t know. Anonymous. That´s what I want to be. Eases the pain. I can´t stand the sandpaper of any one that I know having any thoughts/expectations/pictures about how I should act. Not even a hint. All that consumes me is the thought that my mother is gravely ill and I`m here, not there.
Just talked to Rosalinde for half an hour. Rosalinde, Patricia, and Shaun are FANTASTIC! I can´t describe how wonderful it is to know that they´re there. It allows me to be here, knowing Mom´s take care of by three Fierce Warriors Who Shall Not Be Crossed. But still I´m in agony. I want to moan, cry out to the world that my Mother is Ill. It´s so monumental to me that the world has to know about it. Earthshaking. Vast and wide. The earth is moving. And I want to throw things, break things, destroy things because I feel destroyed inside.
FUCK FUCK FUCK!
And that doesn´t even begin to describe it.
Mish has been good and kind, serving me food and tea, letting me be alone to feel what I feel. And I feel soooo much. I can´t believe that no one else here shares my agony. The few I´ve told are sympathetic but no way can they really know my experience, what I feel. Where´s the Vulcan Mind Meld when you need it?
3rd Pisco Sour is getting me a bit messed up. Good. I care little, or at least less now. And now, perhaps, I´m ready to go home.
We'll see.
D
mishes hair cut
so we are in the middle of town and david looks at this door leading into an alley of shops and says, hey therre should be a barber shop here, and sure enough there is one. i am transformed to the time my father cut my hair. same cutting tools; scissors, straight raisors, strop, electric clipers. same cutting style; first with scissors to proper length, then with straight raiser to clean up any hair sticking out. this is followed with electric trim around the neck. then the barber puts on his glasses and trims hair as he meticulously observes his creation. all is done without him cracking a smile. satisfied, he finally brushes me off, and removes the apron. instictively i look for the broom and dust pan, but am shaken into reality by being presented a bill.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Vanemos a Caminar
2/10/09
The operative word of the day was : walk. For miles. First, just to walk, then to find a bookstore, then to find a phone, then to get Mish a haircut, then to look for coffee beans, then to look for a coffee makere, because someone who shall not be named couldn´t find his before we left. Miles. Did I say we walked for a long time? My dogs is aching, and that is WITH good shoes. A huge lunch: a special: salad, rice, a pile of meat 6 inches high in a sizzling pan with real charcoal under it to keep it sizzling while we ate. 3 steaks on top, then 3 pork chops, then 3 quarter chickens, then 3 blood sausages, then 3 chimichangas, all in a layer of hot fat with broiled potatoes. And we tried.
Finally found a place that sold coffee beans and had a grinder, but it was a, uh, how shall I say this, STINKY pet store, with bags and bins of open pet food everywhere, and wild cats lying around everywhere and the place REEKED of cat piss, strong that it made my eyes water. But Mish persisted and bought a half kilo of freshly ground cat piss beans. I´m not sure they´re useable.
Finally found a place that sold coffee makers but the store was all the way back, only two blocks from where we lived. After all that walking. 2 lousy blocks from our hostel after being out walking for several hours. Uhhhh.
We did, though, pay $125 US apiece to get our paperwork handled by a professional, so hopefully when our bikes finally arrive, Friday, we´ll be able to get them out that day.
We´ll see.
D
The operative word of the day was : walk. For miles. First, just to walk, then to find a bookstore, then to find a phone, then to get Mish a haircut, then to look for coffee beans, then to look for a coffee makere, because someone who shall not be named couldn´t find his before we left. Miles. Did I say we walked for a long time? My dogs is aching, and that is WITH good shoes. A huge lunch: a special: salad, rice, a pile of meat 6 inches high in a sizzling pan with real charcoal under it to keep it sizzling while we ate. 3 steaks on top, then 3 pork chops, then 3 quarter chickens, then 3 blood sausages, then 3 chimichangas, all in a layer of hot fat with broiled potatoes. And we tried.
Finally found a place that sold coffee beans and had a grinder, but it was a, uh, how shall I say this, STINKY pet store, with bags and bins of open pet food everywhere, and wild cats lying around everywhere and the place REEKED of cat piss, strong that it made my eyes water. But Mish persisted and bought a half kilo of freshly ground cat piss beans. I´m not sure they´re useable.
Finally found a place that sold coffee makers but the store was all the way back, only two blocks from where we lived. After all that walking. 2 lousy blocks from our hostel after being out walking for several hours. Uhhhh.
We did, though, pay $125 US apiece to get our paperwork handled by a professional, so hopefully when our bikes finally arrive, Friday, we´ll be able to get them out that day.
We´ll see.
D
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