I am known for remembering things. Not where I put said things - or whose things they were or are - but remembering things... significant things.. not always in order ... but always intensely - like odd events, cool kids, wonderful smiles and smells. So it is no wonder I had little idea of the fasten your seatbelt its gonna be a bumpy ride exit from the barf lot at the hospital to the hike up the stairs to bed.
But I do remember Dad smell. Not my Dad - ew - loved ya - but the Belvedere old spice does third row of the library sweaty golf glove right butt cheek up smell - was - um like I said "ew". This was New Dad smell. The Bay, soaps from Costco, hotels, a pot of soup simmering on the stove , a new car, and me. "OH god... Liza" I whimpered as she was uprighting me and slipping proper fresh lady panters and jammies on my stickly little legs. " Your Dad and your sister ( yet another one) got me up here didn't they." "Yes. And you farted on my father." Thank god the other sister plays ball hockey. She would have never have noticed. " ARRRRrrr we going back to the hospital now? Cause I heard you talking to them. Something was sticking out of my chest and he told you to stuff in back in. Then I swalled stuff and now it is light out and we hafta go again?" And then we were there - front row - room two - right in the emergency room - along with half the hospital staff. Mostly the top half, I don't remember annnnnny feet. Except some Nikes - old and smelly laces doubled.. So, as best as I can put together - the drain sewn into my side - to replace the function of the 10 lymph nodes I was now missing - was precariously attached and had almost popped out at home. Thus the drain sucking sound. Ethyl as you may recall was a big girl - and Peter, Paul and Mary - VERY scary Mary were about 5 cm in total. I was not just down a body part - I was going to be a potential body double for shark week. However - I had no clue and was on some level clearly still recognizable as human. Unlike the blur of scrubs and masks hauling up my very crisp Ralph Laruen Night shirt who were oh so very impressed with Liza's stuffing and the surgeons work. One fellow - head of something and clearly aspiring to be head of everything was almost in tears. Not because I ( and my family) had been traumatized, but because he - and the other interns were staring at their own dreams. Dreams of being a surgeon. Dreams of cutting cancer out of people lives. Dreams of making a difference. Dreams of seeing a difference... dreams induced by very unpleasant circumstances and drugs... Not unlike my dreams as a tea - sorry educator..... And that is when I got recognized. And when I remembered - a really cool kid - with a really cool brother. Room has cleared. Panic over. Hello really big smile. A tough do not bother effing with me - I got this smile. My kinda smile. " Hi. I have to take your blood." " Oh Ya,? Where are you taking it? Cause if it is going to Disney I am so in. How are you kid? Pause. Good to see you. PS I am super scared of having blood taken - body parts fine but really a vein - I am gonna lose it.." I laughed, but not because I was scared, but because I was in that dream space - where as an educator you ( I ) hope and try and sometimes pray that the 1000's of really cool kids you meet will turn out to be way cooler than you. Grasshopper style. It took but just a minute of going eye to eye - The frenetic get it done mantra calmed and my sedation gave way to a moment of clarity and we chatted... 10 years ago - this class - that event - where are you now - no me neither - things change - you ok- clearly - wow you are a phlebologist so so so cool - and your brother ? Nice! great to hear.... kinda neat that you were ' scared' to be in my class - sorry about that - but hey I am 'scared' now to be in yours - staring at a cart of vile vile viles... "ohhhhhhhh" I could feel myself getting faint... and then a strong hand gently touched mine. " Ya know Kelly - they are likely not going to need this blood work up. " Wry smile. "Ya I know - But if you just get it done before they get back - I might learn not to be such a wimp." Wry Smile. And thus I gave. Almost all of the insides I had left and it felt awesome. But more importantly - in that 30 hour ordeal - everyone gave - of their time, their love, their expertise and I am grateful. And Alas and AArrr - I still have no flying clue how I got home from hospital the second time. I do however have a rare recollection of being either babe raham Lincoln or a pirate. Then again it might have been a photo. I have't heard from you - are you ok? You have not updated your blog - hello? Are you still here? Yes. Yes I am. And no not at all. I know I am behind - six months roughly in regaling my tales ... And yes I am ok and no I am not okay. Everything is different everyday. And yet everyday feels the same as the last... I want to write. I need to write. I want to share. I need to share. I .... But like that package of chicken you buy - that starts off in the fridge - then moves to the freezer - that ends up under a pizza - stuck to a bag of fruit you swear you will make smoothies with - I am white with flakes of ice - swollen with my own rottenness and too frosty to touch. So it sits. And so I sit. Waiting - like so many of us - like this winter of so much discontent - I wait to thaw. And I will. In fact as I find the courage to be honest - -authentic that I am tired - and scared - and lonely - and numb - to the point of have little feeling in my finger tips.. I am noticing that I am here. And here is exactly where I need to be - With each and everyone - of you. Because I love you. Take a deep breath Kelly - it's ok not to be ok. Exhale. Peel yourself off the bag of peas. It will be all write. Now where was I ..... And thank goodness I was the last boob job of the day.
It seems that poor Ethyl took up more real estate on my wee rib cage than I thought. That and my lymph nodes lit up like Springfield doughnuts. I was right - my mastectomy was not so simple. But what did I know? I was out like the lights in Georgia - and whatever they pumped and stuck into me - kept me just snoring along - until I woke up knowing I had woken up - and I brought the whole recovery room with me. When my eyes opened and I saw my little feet - one more clearly than the other - sans Ethyl - I was ecstatic. Cleary for more than one reason - and because of that - there was no reasoning with me. I felt like I had won the lottery of life. " I WOKE UP!! I WOKE UP!!! I made it!! I didn't die!!" The nurses were on me - " SHHHHH!!" I turned to the poor sod next me - who seemed to be missing something I couldn't quite make out - an arm maybe? I didn't care. " I WOKE UP!!!!!" I could taste something salty - but I could not really feel my face - I knew it was there only because the nurse - who had fabulous hair was in it. "Kelly - Kelly - KELLLY." uh oh three L's - Liza style. Whatever I am doing must be really bad... whatever... " LIZA - I WOKE UP!!" - suddenly I was not so sure I was in the right place - let alone the right universe - my eyes started to focus on a big smile walking towards me. It too had fabulous hair. But it was supposed to be Liza. It looked a bit like her - but not enough. My eyes squinted tight. The big smile floating towards me was attached to her sister. I panicked. Now I know why the nice lady was talking to the walls. I wanted to go home too. I was so confused. I could not think straight - no pun intended - but where was Liza - why was Kendra walking towards me? >>> oh my god I died.. no - I am in the past - at work - OH no... I am a man - oh god I am cheating on Liza - EW EW EW!!! <<< "SHHHH... " said Liza. " You are not going to want to pull that out of your chest. That and you might want to tuck Myrtle back in. She is lying beside you." "Myrtle?" oh god. I looked down. "Hello Myrtle. Why am I in a moo moo? Hello Kendra. It is so nice to see you. "(awkward) " How is your pain?" asked nurse hairdo. " Oh I am fine." - Then I tired to move - and my eyes rolled back into my head. There was some fussing - a needle and then no pain. " Hello drugs." I said to Kendra as she watched my pupils disappear. Bye Bye. Now I must admit - things here are a bit blurry, fuzzy, out of sequence, out of time and totally filled in by Liza. And no I am not completely sure she is not pulling my leg. Unless it was to get my shoes on. Which I hear was like dressing a goldfish. My surgery took just over 5 hours. I had no idea I went from there to the ICU recovery. I had no idea I had a drain just barely hanging out my chest, or that they almost did not have enough skin to close the incision. All I knew is that the nurses were trying to get me out of there for my own good. The place was packed. There were people in the hallway. I had a bed. if I did not go home I would have to sleep there and likely catch every germ on earth. I slept. Liza met with the surgeon. A woman with a folder woke me to ask questions about home care. Nurses visiting. Changing my own dressings. Needles at home. I agreed to all sorts of things and I would have purchased a condo in Florida under a bridge if Liza had not strode in an taken over. How she was still standing was amazing. We had now been at the hospital for 16 hours. Time to go. She dismissed the folder lady and demanded my freedom. The ICU nurses were on it. I was too vulnerable to stay. But I was also too sedated to move without someone pulling my strings. Not that I cared. I always wanted to be a marionette. Like those orange ostriches you can walk with. I was quite convinced I could dress myself, stand on my own and put myself into the wheelchair. I was quite wrong. It took three of them about 20 minutes to peel off my gown and guide me into a nightshirt. The bottom half was just gitch and shoes. They gave up on the pants. To much like making human size manicotti. However hazy all that is the wheelchair moment I remember. It was bloody sobering. The pain that shot thru my body when I tried to put weight on my right side was unlike anything I can describe. The best I can do is white light, and a surge from my intestines that moved my brain an inch to the left. "I think I am gonna be sick" The voice was supposed to be mine but it was all wrong. Hoarse and tight. " Liza I need a bag or something... I really do not feel so good..." The voice must have been in my head because there was no bag and I was no longer in the hospital but in the car - door open cool air everywhere. I watched Liza thank the nurse through the open door and clutched my pants folded neatly in the Patient Belongings bag. A bag!! oh thank goodness. I ripped open the sac and dumped my stuff on the floor. Liza was running at me. " What the hell are you doing? Are you ok??" " Bag. Hold the bag. Higher. Higher - ready?" She was perplexed but held the bag out in front of me like I was a pony going to feed out of it. Instead I fed the bag - all of it - with a four liter steamy mess - like a race horse on a hay bale. It was disgusting. I tried to take a selfie with my thumb. The night security guy pointed to the garbage can. Liza lugged my guts to the door and tossed them. He handed her a box of bio hazard industrial strength vomit proof bags. "Do you want your pants?" LIza asked dangling them in the car door. " Because I am done now and would like to go home." "Yes please." The next thing I remember is waking to up to a sound not unlike sewer backing up. "Liza is that me?" "Yes." "Ew. We are going back to the hospital now aren't we." "Yes." "Good thing we got my pants." Within minutes I was wheeled in and out one room thru another hallway to the next and finally parked in a dingy spooky room with glass windows that overlooked what appeared to be giant industrial sinks. Facing me on a well appointed blue sheeted gurney was a woman who was waking up from some other universe and she was asking the wall and her pillow if she could go home now. As my own head spun around to survey the crypty concrete and the odd green gowned creeper muttering into a mask I too was quite ready to go home.
""You ok?" asked Liza with all the confidence of a lifeguard in a leaking shark tank. "How is Ethyl doing? Is she still wilted? Excellent distraction. I had completely forgotten what had happened this morning. 'Let's take one last look!" She popped open my gown. " Ew" Ethyl did not look so good. Aside from having to get up stupid early the poor girl had to have to have her self smothered in emla cream ( which numbs tissue) be swaddled in saran wrap ( not unlike like Evelyn in Friend Green Tomatoes) and injected with radio active materials. She was sheet white and wilted like a wad of wriggley's gum on a sun bleached sidewalk. Not even Buddy would have eaten that. However gross, the purpose of the radio active dye is really important. It is to help the surgical team find any cancer cells that may have partied off from Peter Paul and Mary and ended up in my lymph nodes. They run a Geiger counter over your breasticle and armpit and if the nodes light up then the team removes them for further scientific experiments. You want them to check. You do not want them to find anything. Metastatic cancer is a game changer. Ps. Getting a needle in your nipple - even a numb one smarts. Kind of like a tap dancing bee who gets one good "ta da" in before it too dies. And why I felt the need to flick Ethyl to see how she was doing was beyond me. It was also beyond the anesthesiologist who had been standing there watching us clutching her clipboard to her chest. Women talking to walls is normal. Women talking to dead nipples is clearly not. We put Ethyl away, my dungeonmate was wheeled elsewhere I sat up and we began the very serious business of deciding how to keep me under and as pain free as possible. Admittedly I was very overwhelmed by it all. In the past 6 weeks I had poked prodded bled, interviewed, weighed, splayed and x-rayed just one too many times. I essentially said yes to all that was offered including a series of injections in my back and shoulder that would help reduce pain afterwards if they had to remove more than just the sentinel node. I figured they would be using a back hoe to get it all so I wanted to make sure I didn't wake up screaming. I just wanted to wake up. "You will" Said the incredibly smart, kind and forgiving of my weirdness purveyor or pain relief. "You ready?" said the attending nurses as they came in, removed my shoes, and gave me little slippers. "Yup." Ok Liza you can go back to the waiting room and Kelly you come with us. I clutched at Liza. I was trying to be brave but when she kissed my cheek and swept my hair out of my mouth I lost it. I buried my head in the blankets. The nurses smiled and pried me off the gurney, WALKING? Why am I walking? I am walking right? I am still alive right? You smell nice - dear god - I just walked into an operating room. An operating room filled with green people, blue people, floral people, blood, mirrors, sharp things, and a giant yellow padded cross front and center for me. The nurses helped me onto the table and put a little hat on me. Then my arms disappeared and I felt warm and pokey. "Do you know why you are here? asked the surgeon. "Yes I am here for a simple mastectomy on the right breast and a sentinel node biopsy. But I am not so sure this is going to be simple..." and with that the medications went in, the sounds faded and the lights went out. The only thing still on was the faint glow of hope pulsing in my heart. Because I can assure you - nothing will ever put that out. My internal alarm went off long before any set alarm. Myrtle as you know could not sleep either as she woke up my thumbs to write her last words to her beloved sister. So when dawn arrived - Delta Dawn - Dawn of the Dead - Shawn of the Dead the Grateful Dead - all alive and well in my starving dehydrated ADHD brain. No food and only clear liquids after midnight - I was good to go and just get this day over with. After all I was allegedly first in day surgery - yes - apparently they plan and can lop off a major body part and send you home the same day - hurry Liza. Hurry. Hurry up and wait.
We arrived at God thirty and got checked in. The gals - and I mean gals as I have yet to meet a fellow on a hospital desk - much like education front lines - are incredibly nice. But they ask you the same 20 questions each time. If it is taxing for us imagine the sheer Ghost Buster's pain for them. My vitals were checked and I - we ( Liza never leaves me) were lead to a change 'room' where I was handed two full length white leg stockings, another one size fits no one or everyone gown and a clear plastic snap together at the top bag labeled PATIENT BELONGINGS. Was Ethyl going in that? EW. Nor were my clothes. Gretchen darling - valet service! Gowns I have mastered. Stockings not so much. My first experience was for a cousins birthday party circa 1970 in which I was stuffed head first into a velvet dress and hog tied in pair of white - complete with gitch - 'hose' as it was called then. I was out of that and into the sandbox in record time. My second personal stocking experience was in a play I did for Domino Theatre - Harvey - in which I played Myrtle. Yes Really. Since I was in character it was ok. She was wearing them not me. So my third run at stockings required assistance. I had no idea why I had to wear them or how to get them on. My first attempt sent me face first into the wall of the booth - and my second resulted in me falling out through the curtain into the nurse. I was given a longer pair and it was explained to me that wearing them would help to prevent blood clots and thus death during surgery. I sported them gleefully along with my wonder woman low cut sneakers. I assured the nurse these to would prevent death during surgery. With that I was offered VIP waiting service in a room full of beds - rather than the room full of chairs. Thank goodness for that. We waited 6 hours. 6 hours of nervous pees. 5 games of trivial pursuit. 4 rounds of solitaire 3 hip recovery surgeries, a nap and one code 99 - and not as in agent 99 but as in' uh oh potential dead person'. Then I was visited by the surgeon and literally signed off on. He autographed his initials over Ethyl. Terrance Trent Darby eat your heart out. "Ready?" Yes sir." I said. And with that he gave me warm smile, shook Liza's hand and said with a wink. " You can escort Kelly - and - Ethyl into Pre-Op. It will just be a minute." ... Once I had dried off - found a stock pile off deodorant and pulled on an outfit that was weather appropriate - read shorts and a t-shirt not thick enough to use a blackout curtain -
- I asked Liza to call the only person I - we could think of that might be able to capture the essence all that is the Ethyl - who was really needing her moment - and a person who would be capable of snapping an image of me with my mouth shut and my eyes open - as well as a person who would 'get' that these photos were never really to be seen by anyone - but that they would be a way for us - Myrtle, Ethyl and I to bond. After all we had been hanging - quite literally out together since I was in grade 7. So aside from being playful and quick lensed this person also has to able to manage the exceeding eccentric . However and most importantly, we all needed to be in safe company and company who would be emotionally capable of shooting a potential dead person. The choice was painfully obvious. - The one the only Suzi. When I called my tongue freaked out. " Err III me... boobie.. - trying to explain myself and what I wanted was awkward. Trying to explain Ethyl and what she was just weird so I stopped sucking air into my cheeks and handed the phone to Liza. " Can you come over and take some photos of Kelly before she has her mastectomy?" "Yes". Why didn't I think of that. Just ask. Be simple. Why does my brain and mouth have to add 3000 extra extreme words? Why can't I just have a still silent thought? Because silence as you may have noted scares me. It fills rooms with a noxious gas of doubt and fabrication. It floats across faces dusting them with vacant ideas and coats eyes with dullness. Minds wander off to grocery lists or worse yet trot back through time and begin to 'write' histories that never quite happened -- Words prevent that. They ensnare the senses and bewitch the mind to thinking something is actually happening. ( Thank you Snape) And hey keep me present. They keep time moving. Photos then as you can imagine are terrifying to me. Moments you cannot control. Time you cannot move. A perspective no longer yours - a common experience - made silently and deeply personal. Framed by words few will ever hear. Thank god we had wine. And sunlight. Suzi arrived the next day with enough gear to work for Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom. She asked me to find a funky pair of beaten up old jeans and to go barefoot. Yes and lose the t-shirt. Funky? um. I went looking. The only jeans I could find that had some depth to them were the ones I used to wear when I was painting. I say painting but it was really processing. 78 canvases worth of grief - A dear friend of both mine and Suzi's had taken his life some years ago - his funeral was the first night I had met Suzi - so these jeans seemed fitting. Except they did not. Cancer was eating me alive. I wandered around the corner to present myself and the jeans - even with a belt they hit the floor. So did LIza's jaw. It seems losing weight when not trying is like missing your hair growing -one day you just have a pony tail. I poured a glass of wine and retreated to find a pair of jeans that fit. I could hear them crying. Not only did I feel sick I officially looked sick. And I had triggered Suzi. She too lost her Mom to cancer. I had no idea how I was going to push through this. Wandering around my home topless - and yet shrouded in emotions I - I - I - I have never felt so vulnerable. Scared or safe all in one moment. Which apparently makes for awesome photographs. At first I was all stiff and posy like. Sears mannequin 101. Then instead of looking down - or at Liza or at the camera - or out the window - or clutching my wine glass in front of my chest - I looked over at Gracie my beloved Great Dane who was curled up on the corner of the white couch just watching. My face softened with love. The first creature I ever chose to love. I melted - not Las Vegas style but in a ways I have never felt. My hands fell open. I had no bones. My skin felt connected to my blood. I lay down with her and she put her paw out and her head down on my feet. She sighed and I cried. That I think was the best shot. In a week our lives and my body would be forever changed. Would I die before her like my mother before me? Would she be as lost as I was with out the touch of my Mom and the sound of her voice? Would a photograph console her the way this experience of being whole one last time was consoling me? I looked up. Suzi was done. Her camera silently at her side. I rose and put on the only proper lady bra I had. Suzi wiped her tears and I mine. Then she manically jumped in front of me and clicked massive rapid close ups of my double e cleavage. Brilliant. I went crimson - snapped back into my painful self conscious self - I grabbed my t-shirt used a few un lady like words and we roared with laughter. Ethyl had had her moment. The girls had one last cuddly close up. I came to grips that I am not alone in this journey -love is everywhere if you can stop to feel it - and I also realized that silence - just being in that moment - even if that moment could be forever - is worth taking off your clown nose, your ego, and your shirt. The Bra I am still out on. By the time Liza and I got home from our marsupial moment we were wax versions of Gretchen and Penelope oozing out onto the driveway leaving a mirage of ourselves in every step. I dripped to the house and up to top of the stairs desperately trying to free myself from my clothing on the way. Stairs and undressing are a bad combo. . Memories of the pool. My hair was again stuck in my shirt and my pant leg with twisted back around my kneecaps "Help!! Air! "Liza found me splayed on foyer flailing. Mostly gasping. Liza was of quick help peeling me out of my sticky ensemble as she was raised in the spit on the wash cloth wipe your face - the band aid off with the scab- zip hoods into chins and if it doesn't fit use a hanger or a stapler school of dressing. So she snapped my shirt off and did that groovey one hand bra snap. Snaps ndeed! Free free at last!! But three was more than one snap. Both our heads spun to look at poor Ethyl. Wow. Not right at all. Lumpy. White hard swollen pulled so tight. I could see - Peter Paul and Mary really were killing her.. She was so sweaty and I think possibly crying. I know I was. I gently coaxed her from trying to hide in my belly button. We turned to snuggle into Liza. "Ew. Get off of me. You smell like boobie cheese!"" She waddled us into the shower and walked away. I think mine and Ethyl's tears were louder than the spray. Myrtle slipped into my armpit to give Ethyl and I little one on one time with the poof and the Irish Spring. That and I think she was embarrassed that I was still wearing pants. I turned to look in the mirror something I do quite often. Not as a habit of vanity but one of self talk. My mother allways said " No matter where you go - there you are. Now look at yourself and love yourself. Just the way you are. I do" I could't help but sob. And laugh. And sob. I am a mess. We are a mess. I made a giant soap bubble nose for myself and pasties for the girls. I put the pouf on my head pulled my wet pants up mom style and stuck the girls nipple to nipple on the steamed glass shower stall. Ta das! "Well mom. Here I am. One cancer ridden clown!" Ethyl pried her face off of Myrtle spat off the bubbles and in a rare moment spoke. ( she usually sings broadway Merman style ) "Ummm before you go completely off the rails - and before I get hacked off - do you think I could have a picture. A proper picture - because if this is my last memory of myself - a lot more than sun shine and roses are going to be coming up.. and perhaps out your nose." I wiped away the soap and the snot. "As you wish Ethy. I will get Liza to call Suzi. Right now I have to get my pants off and the soap out of my eye. - and maybe call my therapist. Or a circus." "Ummmm Kelly? Stop talking. Even Myrtle - who by the way is turning blue - thinks you should." " Yes. Of course." Always listen to your boobs before you become one. Once one has come to terms with the enevitable loss of a body part the next step is much like rebounding from a bad break up. You go shopping for a new one. And thankfully Vegas was good to us. Not only did I get smancy new sneaker set for the hospital but I had a large chunk of change for my ' new' Ethyl. But where does one - in a slightly small town go to find a rather large boob - other than a strip joint or used car lot? Pretty simple. There is only one mastecotomy shop to choose from. So you go there or back to grade 6 and stick socks in your bra. So we jump in the Porsche because for the first time all summer it is actually summer - not sprinter or sprummer real hot. Actually too hot. Yes Vegas is hot - but they cool the air inside and out. As in you have to wear pants. Maybe even a light sweater. We kinda forgot that and were a tad overdressed. Like two house salads in a retirement home with moist lettuce and 100 000 table spoons of dressing. One with 1000 islands and one with that orange kind. I was the orange one. And not all cool like orange is the new black. That was Bea. Bea runs the boobateria and is as intimidating as Red but in the absolute total opposite way. Of those 100 angels I mentioned - she is in the top ten. That and she knows everything about boobs! My hero. I was already sweaty from the car ride and now was even more nervous because Bea is a hugger and as we climbed the stairs to the secret room of requiremt the air beacame as still and hot as goat gas in a mountain cave. "So you are here for a boobie?" Asks Bea in her fabulous mysterious eastern real European accent. ( it took Penelope everything she had to be quiet but the heat was melting all sense and sensibility) "Ahh yes" said both Penny and I sounding more like Bob's burger does Laverne and Shirley. "Yes. I am going to need one and perhaps a special bra for when I have the surgery and I have this drain thing..." and on I rambled until Bea said. "shh. I show you. I know your sizes." She glanced at Liza. Nailed it. Liza was agast. " I go to beaches with my husband. I know all sizes. From little baby b to big triple e. All wowmn are beautiful in all sizes. You will be beautiful too. Just like you are now. " She looked me up and down thankfully missing - or ignoring he tears welling up in my eyes. Fear and kindness make my face leak. Both were walking all over my brow- rather slithering in my gaping pores. She rose and strode to a rack of bras. Like 200. Victoria may have secrets but Bea has top secrets. The best ever. She collected a handful of soft sexy and yet very purposeful - oh god. Lingere. Panic. More perspiration. I have only ever worn a sports bra. Except once in a play. Disaster. How do these even do up? That thing is not gonna hold up Myrtle. Who by the way was checking out the potential Ethyl replacements sitting oddly in a box to my right. Ethyl? No worries. She thinks we are still in Vegas. She does not freak out until later. Bea catches all three of us - staring at the giant boobies in a box. The bras land on the desk. Bea is delighted. "You can choose your nipple too. Look" she grabs the boob from the box and essentially tosses it at me. There was a thump behind me which might have been Liza fainting but I was too busy feeling up myself to compare the fake boob to Myrtle. Woa. OMG. It feels the same!!! I was far far too enthusiastic. In a second the back of the foobie had been peeled off to reveal zillions of little suction cups and Bea slapped it on my skinny clammy little arm. I tried to shake it off. I turned and flung my arm at Liza who was a colour I have never seen before. Kinda a crimson winter wheat with a side of bleached blotchy violet. Uh oh. I spun around. "Holy crap! This sucker is not coming off!!" I was on my feet now - flailing -visualizing myself skiing and swimming with my new invincible Ethy. I was so losing my grip on realty. "AND!" says Bea we have them in every size. You are 11 let me show you 22!!" Another thump. This one I saw. It was like a ginormous naked sea turtle had jumped a wave and died on her desk. Ethy and Myrtle seemed so - well. Teeny. All was still. Goat gas had steamed the windows. I just stared and thought of my Mom. Now I understand why a 22 gauge double barrel shot gun blows your shoulder off. And now I know why my Mom had deep dents in her bones. Point made. I sat down. Deep breath. Bea took off the foobie with some groovey twist. "But before this you need these." She handed me the beige pile of lady things. I rose again but this time the perspiration and shame had pooled in my pants. My beige lady pants. Oh god. I was soaked. Stuck to myself with a nasty Hanes no ones way wedge. I manoeuvred to the change room. I could here Lizchatting as I attempted to ooze myself out of my shirt and bra. The girls were molten wine gums. I wrestled them into a new bra. Wow. Comfy. Perky. Stable. "Uh all is good. This one works. But what are theselooking down inside the bra. "Those are the spots for your drains. You will have a tube that pulls the fluid out of your nodes and it will collect in the little balls." Yes. I lost it. Little balls. Giggles. Bea tossedr another garmentr over the door. "You will need this too. This is a surgical corset to support your Myrtle ( she was listening ) an lpin your drain and put the ball in the pouches." I was a little light headed as I took off the bra and began to stuff myself into the thick full front zip iron maiden corset from hell. I was beyond stuck. My arm was pinned under Ethyl and I zipped my finger into something made of Velcro. I figured I had about a minute or two of air left in the change room. I was wrong. I was almost unconscious when I flung open the door with my chin completely unable to free myself from the straight jacket I had tied myself in. As I stepped forward I lost my balance and began hopping to find my feet. My head was out the right arm and my hair was tangled in a clasp. Both arms were now twisted and clearly I had it on inside out. I knew this because when I looked down the pouches were on the outside. Bea was hysterically silent laughing. Liza was was hysterically silent staring. I got my feet up under me and snapped upright in one last pathetic sweaty hop. "LOOK LIza!" I panted as I motioned to my dangling pouches " I am a marsupial!!" Bea collapsed into her chair. None of us had a shred of mascara left. Liza took out her wallet. "Write her up Bea. "And make it two. If cancer does not kill her maybe this will." Let's go back a year ago - so I can make sense - yes I know that is rare - but I will try to make sense of why on earth anyone would go to Vegas to heal. Twice.
As I have mentioned before I had a horrific fall, all puns intended. Clearly this fall is right up there with Rome and the apple that hit Newton. Both crappy but enlightening. My first last fall was essentially the death of my existence as I knew it - Rome - and this one looks like just plain ole death - thus the enlightenment. But Don't ask which one is better or worse - I never have been one for sarcasm. But I have been one for Vegas. So last fall as I lay fetal in the corner of the dinning room - weeping inconsolably at my fate, I could hear Liza on the lap top - then on the phone - then back on line - muttering about Celine Dion and dolphins. Then I heard the words suite, first class, casino host and Monte Carlo slippers. That got me on my feet. As did that first class, world class door to door week long spa style soul saving smile making trip. Yes I said spa. Vegas can be hell - but it can also be heaven. It can nearly kill you or it can save you. What saved me from myself on round two was the people - and a magical creature named Cosmo. This Cosmo was not shaken or stirred, but his playfulness with me shook the shame away and stirred in me a peaceful acceptance that does nothing but continue to grow. Cosmo is one of 8 dolphins that did yoga with me - and just five other people. Not in the tank - ew yoga with dolphin poo? No thanks. - But yoga under a giant glass tank with an instructor - Willow- who over the curse/course/coarse of 2 hours took each one of us out of our body then gently put us back in right side up and out. Yes please. But here is where these chance happenings- and the whole trip gets odd - even by my standards. Of the five other people who showed up for yoga three of them had been beside for lunch us the day before. One of them was no better off than I was and her gals pals were trying to cheer her up. We had a great time chatting with them about all the things to do in Vegas, the great food and wine but none of them mentioned going to yoga. So you can imagine the look on our faces when we met the next morning at 7 am in yet another hotel to share in again in a healing experience. In fact most of the people we crossed paths with that week all had a sad story, and warm smiles and faces that seemed all to familiar. So familiar. Some in that magical feline kind of way. So if you jump back some 60 days to the last trip to vegas, those cats were all still there. Of the millions and millions of people the thousands of folks who work in Vegas see - somehow - a handful remembered me - us by name. But "You look different.." they said. "Indeed.." I said." I have cancer. But I am so glad I ran into to you. Oddly I was looking for you. I just wanted to say hello and thank you for making my last stay here so great!" Suddenly I am hugging. Servers, casino floor staff. Peggy, Lily, Tara, People are wrapping their arms around me and filling me full of love, wine and food - Fernando, Anne, The gals from Brand Steak House, Ashley - who stuck a flower up my nose, Whitney the piano player, Allison from Banana Republic, all posed for pictures with me - And all in one day. Thus I am wearing the same yellow shirt in each picture. If the last stay was great this one was spectacular. However, the most lingering picture is the one that shows up on my phone each day. Each day Lily from the Monte Carlo sends me a message of hope. And each day I am grateful and thankful for that love. And each day I am also grateful and thankful that my friend Liana is not correcting my grammar. Or my syntax. Cause that sucks too. |