Three Word Wednesday~A Fancy Feast

It's Three Word Wednesday... and the prompts were: night, delicate and jaded. So, here's my contribution.

Diva

She walked the patio, slowly advancing towards the feast displayed on delicate china. Her eyes flicked over the carefully placed setting, taking in the perfectly broiled chicken, cooked to perfection and covered with a sauce that was created just for this recipe. I stood to the side, anxious over the presentation, confident she’d find this meal, God willing, to her satisfaction. She stretched, examining her nails, finally settling in front of the plate with her preferred night meal drink of water to one side. Leaning forward, her nostrils flared as she sniffed, then took her first bite. She stood abruptly, closing her green eyes, obvious in her body language the dish offended her. Her head turned towards me, disdain in every line. I sighed, picked up the offending dish, scraping the food into the trash. Damn her and her jaded palate! Reaching for the tin of chopped kidneys in gravy, made by her favourite brand, I again questioned my decision to ever let a cat own me.

Stormy Weather

The older you get, the more things sting.

I've had a difficult time recently, as the few whom I've shared this with, know. It was not so much the actual event, it was the embers it stirred up, the once buried pain that suddenly is forefront...not so much because of that event, but.... because it reminded me of a sad place from long ago, a place I once worried I'd never recover from.

When you are young, much of what happens to you is new... so, the pain is sharp. As you grow older, things will happen that remove a scar, a place you thought healed.... and that new flesh is so tender, so exposed.. it hurts more than the first time. Let this happen more than once, and you start to protect the scarred area.

I found myself in a lonely place.... being pushed again to remember where I rank at times. Wondering why, no matter with who, I've never been first. Ever. That the code I live by isn't the code of others. A simple code of honesty, loyalty, love...working to put those whom I care for as vitally important. Not finding that returned.

What do you do? You keep opening that Trojan horse called hope... One day, it'll be all I want inside... I have to believe that. Until then, I am blessed with people who care and keep me in prayers, and who answer my emails and call me at 3am. Who keep me remembering I am important to those who really do care, whom I care about. One day, the Trojan horse will be opened, and my way of being will be returned.

I can wait.

My Anniversary

Hard to believe it's been two years.

Two years since I drove myself to the hospital. Two years since I was alone and scared, sitting and waiting for them to take me back beyond the swinging doors. Two years since I was transferred to the operating table, the staff chatting with me since they knew me from other operations. Two years since I was there then gone into that empty place you go when you have surgery... alone except for one soul I felt with me, keeping me from being scared.

Frightened is having an unknown, and someone there to hold your hand. Scared is doing it alone.

Two years since I felt that presence with me, until I came completely awake, so aware they were there, I asked the nurse when they had left, even though I knew the physical body was many, many miles away. Two years since I woke up, unable to talk, tubes and needles in my arms and hands, nurses adjusting levels and drips and giving me water. Two years since I felt the pad on my neck.

Two years since my doctor who was so wonderful said I had a malignant tumour. A big one. Two smaller ones. That he'd taken out my thyroid, along with it's evil twin.... that my lymph nodes were clean, that it hadn't entered my blood stream.

Two years. I went on to six weeks of waiting, one hour of treatment, a week of isolation and then my blessed meds. As I move on, more stuff shows up that is touched by the thyroid...high blood pressure, I can't retain calcium anymore (they took my parathyroid..oops!) an inability to control my body temperature, eventually heart issues... the thyroid is the little gland that can. But, you know, it's not cancer. It's not a relapse. I'm good with that.

It's Breast Cancer Awareness month... something we all need to check for, including men. I have one of the orphan cancers.. no ribbons, no races, no real funding. It strikes three times as many women as men, usually in their 20's. The older you are, the tougher it can be. Watch out for the symptoms... rapid weight loss or gain, hair loss, swollen ankles, trouble swallowing, a lump (my only symptom) being so tired.... Be proactive should you have any of these... it's a sneaky cancer, with TSH levels showing normal when you are actually ill. All of my blood results were clean the day of my operation, and I had Stage Two cancer.

I'd love to think cancer can be eradicated... Sometimes, I think they do have the cure, but, the drugs are so expensive, so many people have it, why cure something that generates so much money?

Buy cancer health insurance... I wish I had it. It's cheap, and you'll need it should you reach that dark place.

Cancer is second to love in the realm of scary words in any language. Be aware, be proactive. If you know someone with cancer, let them talk about it... listen. Bring food... bring yourself. It's not catching, it's just scary... and, when we are in recovery, when we are in treatment, when we are tired and struggling to simply get out of bed--food and company, even short term company, is appreciated. Show up! People tend to shy away... to convince themselves it's better to leave that friend or family member alone, let them rest.

Trust me, we'll tell you when you need to go. Cancer makes you very outspoken, no time for bullshit. Show up, help out... do a load of laundry, or change the bedding. Be there for us. When alone, the imagination runs wild... I used to swear I could hear the malignant cells trying to lure the good cells over to their side.. wearing cheap blue taffeta dresses and garish makeup... "Come on, big boy! Come to the dark side!"

Your body has betrayed you. It's turned on itself, eating itself. Why me? you think... what did I do to get this? (My cousins and I ran behind the DDT trucks... I've a feeling that's our source) There is anger and frustration at the waiting for treatment, irritation at paperwork and tests and the way you are suddenly weak, hair falling out...so, so, sleepy. Breathing becomes a task.

Medicines and time in bed, and the fight to win the battle, the war. Do not be afraid, your love and friendship and concern are needed to shore up the sometimes overwhelmed loved one.

I know many with cancer right now... two of them had no signs, and suddenly, they are in serious shape. I have a friend whose mother is now in the battle. It's interesting that both women I worked with when I was employed by The Man also have cancer... The Godmother is back to work, and cancer free. The other found out she has 4th stage breast cancer... no signs, clear mammogram. My cousin, MV, has the same cancer I do, and her sister is being checked next week. It shows how prevalent cancer is these days.

Check, have tests done when you are at that age or if it runs in your family. Be conscious of your body, listen to it... then, be firm with the medical profession. You know your body, they don't.

Two years. It changed my life in a ton of ways, gave me new friends, let me weed out emotional vampires.

Remission is a happy, happy place... trust me.

Six Sentences

Thom, who writes Surface Tension, and I have given birth.

Well, it was his idea, I was astute enough to recognise it as a clever one, and tickled he asked me to do this with him, this interesting new way of writing something we both enjoy writing--flash fiction.

Thom introduced me to Sunday Scribblings (which I've passed on to others) and Three Word Wednesday. He's got a great voice when he writes, and, as I said, an offer I couldn't refuse. "Let's write a six together" he said, and we did.

There was no discussion of plot at any time... you just read the sentence you were sent, and decided where to go from there. It's not chance the title is Internal Combustion, since our analogy on writing this was one of us backs the car out of a garage, another drives a few blocks, then, we switch drivers.... never discussing the destination. It's been a hoot, and, I've gained a new friend... always a blessing in life.

So, if you don' t mind, have a read over at Six Sentences, and put a few words on what you think... please, as always, be honest.


Thanks again, Thom....for your trust, your excellent idea and your friendship.

The Agenda~Three Word Wednesday

When my dad was alive, one of our 'big' events was shopping at Wal-Mart.

It was one of our routines... he would ask his usual, "What's on the agenda today?", and I'd say, "Wal-Mart!". He'd shout, "It's New Money Day!!", announcing the fact we'd received our checks from The Man, where we'd both worked at one time or another. We'd sit down, and thrash out menus, finish our coffee, I'd tidy the kitchen, we'd shower, dress and meet in the garage. It was a good time, picking up stuff we needed and didn't need, then going home and putting it away.

When he went to the assisted living facility, we still went to Wal-Mart, for him to pick up his snacks he ate while sitting in his recliner (I won't tell you how many bits and pieces we found of his snacks when we moved the chair after his death), he'd buy new flannel bottoms, an audio book or two, maybe a shirt. Afterwards, we'd go to lunch and then I'd put everything away. He was harder to deal with then, often vindictive, grumpy, depressed. Still, he'd call and say, "It's New Money Day!", and off we'd go.

It was a nice agenda.

Now, I go with The Investment. He's the driver now, and I sit and talk. He looks a great deal like my Dad... tall, dark curly hair, snapping black eyes, effortless in his lanky way of walking. He, too, has a payday on the 1st of each month. We drive to Wal-Mart, and he does his shopping, discussing items he's buying.... what will go the longest in his fridge, what's the best kind of cheese, why that pork loin such a good deal. I'll pick up food, too, at times... a book.. some really nice cotton long sleeved tshirts. We wander and talk and laugh. No one makes me laugh like my kids do, and he's at the top of the pack.

I thought to myself things were kinda going in full circle, giving me a new routine. I knew this was so when he called me last week, and caused me to do one of those things when you smile with teary eyes.

"Mom, what's on the agenda? It's New Money Day!"




_______

Three Word Wednesday's words were thrash, vindictive, and effortless. I found it easy to put them into this little blog post...

Register and Vote

I sent this to the FMDKids....




I have voted since I was 18, without fail. It was a privilege, I felt, and I still do feel that way. I read up on the candidates, check on the voting records for Judges that will be on the ballot, find out what I can on issues that I'll be asked to cast my vote upon. I don't vote a straight ticket, although I was raised to be a 'yellow dog Democrat'.... that's when you would cast your vote for a yellow dog before you vote Republican.

When I was married, the Ex and I canceled out each other's votes; he was for Ronnie and George and I wasn't. I still tell him that's part of our divorce agreement, to still cancel out each others vote.

Today, two of the FMDKids registered. I am so proud, I could spit.. if I could spit. The Investment and I will go over everything, and vote at the same polling place, so, I'll be with him the first time he votes, and that is going to be great.

I hope people remember to vote this time... it's our privilege, our right.... our duty.


Vote. Please.

I Can't Text Communicate, Don't Ask Me

Text. Text. Text. It fascinates me and frustrates me and there are times I hate it.

This past week, I was again embroiled in an extended email conversation with The Oddship, struggling to put my views across, to understand theirs. We don't use the phone, we work only in text, and with my difficulties comprehending it at times, it can be so very tiring. Oddy has been wonderful in making sure what is sent to me is understood, including a follow up email if they are concerned I've had a problem with the message.

This week, though, egos were bruised, explanations questioned, and, although it worked out in the end, and our butterfly breath relationship is back in place.

Phone calls would help, the schedules don't allow them. Text flies back and forth, via email and phone text and we deal with things that way. We don't give up because somehow, we fill niches in the other's life. There is true affection and concern... respect is huge on both sides.

I just wish we didn't have to use the written word to work things out. You write in one voice, and the person reading hears it in their own. If they are upset to begin with, it can actually taint whatever is sent. Both of us are fortunate we do care enough to make sure we stick with it until it's resolved.

I simply hate the pain that occurs until that resolution occurs.