Bright blessed days … dark sacred nights

ImageApologies to my friends who saw me not at my best last night. To accept me is to understand my imperfections and, more importantly, my core, which is one of love and generosity and authenticity. However, yesterday was a day dominated by fear, and as such I probably needed more comfort and nurturing than being in this city sometimes allows. I love this city, but at times I wish I could instantly transport myself to the little patch of rocky beach in Maine that I love so much. Yesterday was one of those days.

I’m finally reading Wild by Cheryl Strayed, inspired by the fact that an old friend and novelist compared my writing to hers. Very different subject matter, but I’m flattered and I see where she’s coming from. It makes me want to keep writing so that I can keep getting better.

This is what Strayed says about fear:

Fear, to a great extent, is born of a story we tell ourselves, and so I chose to tell myself a different story from the one women are told. I decided I was safe. I was strong. I was brave. Nothing could vanquish me. Insisting on this story was a form of mind control, but for the most part, it worked. Every time I heard a sound of unknown origin or felt something horrible cohering in my imagination, I pushed it away. I simply did not let myself become afraid. Fear begets fear. Power begets power. And it wasn’t long before I actually wasn’t afraid.

I read this before my appointment yesterday and tried to channel it as best I could. I had a bit of a meltdown after getting ready too early and waiting at my house to leave, and a slight one on the way over, but by the time I reached the hospital, where my mom was waiting for me (at her insistence; I accompanied her to her surgeries a couple of years ago. We’re both pretty good with other peoples’ crises), I was calm enough. It turned out I was not having the MRI I thought I was having; miscommunication from the person who booked the appointment; human error is unavoidable. Instead I had a consultation with a neurologist who went over my recent CAT scan with me. The MRI is pending approval from my ever-lovely and generous insurance company.

I’d had a CAT scan following a week-long fever and persistent headaches – headaches that lasted after the fever went away. I just had deja-vu. Turns out that the fever was a virus, but the CAT scan revealed something called ventriculomeglia (Jojo, is that right?) which means that part of me brain is larger than it should be for a person my age. It’s not extreme, but it is there – he showed me the CAT scan, which was fascinating and weird and my eyeballs looked quite round. And brains are gray. When a baby or young child has this condition it’s “water on the brain”; in an adult (maturity level notwithstanding), the causes can be many. Most extreme case is cancer. It’s possible I’ve always had this; I have to call the hospital where I was taken after my accident to see if they can send the records from that CAT scan. I assume I had one back then but honestly, it’s all a bit foggy. The neurologist said, “I don’t think we need to go in and perform surgery; I think we can continue to monitor this.” He gave me a battery of tests, which I passed. Next step is to have the MRI, see him again, and then make yearly visits with him.

This is all a huge relief, of course, and I know people have weathered far greater health concerns than this. However, this is scary for me. Yes, I can keep it in perspective but it is all relative. A few years ago I had tests on my heart. When it comes to the heart and the brain, regardless of outcome, the stakes are such that fear is a natural response. There’s been strange cancer in my family. One never knows.

As I said in the post I referenced above, I went about 40 years without surgery or a concussion – and then had three surgeries and a concussion in the course of a year. I’ve had lots of surgical procedures, have had every dental woe known to (wo)mankind (root canals, caps, crowns, the removal of four impacted wisdom teeth followed by complications I won’t name because my dear friend is getting his wisdom removed tomorrow but suffice it to say, mine was an extremely rare scenario), and have sprained and broken digits and appendages, but now we’re getting to the organs and it feels like a different animal.

Regardless, I am alive and I am going to have all the tests I need to have and I am in good medical hands and so we move forward. Like a shark. But where mortality and my mother and my emotions meet, things can get very murky. And so yesterday was an intense one for me, and I suppose I should have predicted that and planned accordingly. But I didn’t.

I love you, friends.

Health is important, which is something I’ve lost sight of at times. Never again – I’m keeping on top of things. I was very proud to say “no” when they asked if I smoked or took recreational drugs. Progress should be celebrated; perfection is a myth.

Let’s reboot.

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It’s only love, and that is all

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Alors. Right this moment I am feeling blissfully back on track following a week of derailment. I don’t often get sick (knock on wood, bad rice, etcetera) and I spent five days in bed with a fever and no appetite. Doctor ordered a CAT scan, all is fine, I’m better, but oy vey that was a rough one. And one that separated the wheat from the chaff, as traumas great and small always do. Thanks, you, for dog walks and beverages and making me eat and hanging out watching Le Mans whilst I wept on my fainting couch and all good things. And I can handle the bad things. I’ve told you this repeatedly and now I’m putting it in writing for my legions of readers (hello, you three) to note. So here it is, my pledge, I will weather the storms with you as you have and will with me and you’re stuck with me as your friend, manager, editrix, and Jewish grandmother. Put some sunscreen under that bike helmet.

Back in the music and art zone, which is where I need to be, always. Galleries Thursday eve, music last night, accompanied friend on photo shoots of the Empire State Building and the nether regions of Staten Island (beautiful [free] ferry rides there and back), and inadvertently bore witness to what could easily have been a reality show about horrid, coked up frat fellows and the wedge-heeled girls who love them on Friday night. From a safe distance. Keep your friends close and your amateur-hour-look-ma-no-hands-coke-binge-Skoal-packing dew schbags far, far away.

Happy Gay Pride to those who celebrate, embrace, and understand. If you don’t, please feel free to never read another word I write.

It’s a new dawn.