July 18, 2006

It's hot here. Even after spending the last two summers in humid Tokyo and Washington DC, Boston takes home the trophy for most sweltering. Because of the temp, I wear tank tops nearly every day-- thanks to Jaci and other friends, I have a good supply of cute tops that fit alright and make me feel at least half-way decent about my appearance, if I don't examine from the neck up (note: eyebrows and eyelashes are pretty essential to sexiness) or have one hand hoisting my jeans up so they don't reveal my desperate-to-reveal-itself gansta style.

I am totally digressing here but one more comment about body before I get to the point I was leading to with the weather. Ladies: my emaciation doesn't look that bad from the waist up, but my legs are grossly sticklike and skinny; maybe picture a 90-year-old man?... and STILL, when I flex my butt, (I say again) STILL, I have cellulite. So, don't freak out about a little cottage cheese; all the rice cakes and celery is not gonna chase those dimples away! Now you know.

Ahem. So, the reason for the todo about tanktops is that tomorrow I go in for a surgery that will implant a port into my chest. It will have two places for needles and IVs to go, so I can receive blood while I get chemo, get blood drawn while I get fluids, etc. It's everything a girl on the go could want. But I'm not a girl on the go. And I don't want a strange plastic thing sitting in my chest for a couple years, and I don't want to go under general anathesia tomorrow morning, and I don't want to see a tube protruding as it snakes over my collar bone, and I don't want to have a visible bump that looks like an alien third breast, and I don't want to wear boyish t-shirts and preppy polo button-ups every day, and I don't want two scars on my neck and chest forever.

Whew, so thanks for letting me get that off my chest. They say I'll "love the port", and I know it's unavoidable and not that big of deal in the grand scope of things. My veins are getting too scarred and stubborn for arm transfusions and I've got a long way to go. I'm not sure why I'm freaking out so much about this, really. As several people have pointed out, I've already been through much scarier obstacles. Who knows why the human mind can take a beating sometimes and not others? Perhaps pain and fear and feeling like a freak weighs cumulatively and I've hit my limit? I've gotten used to the looks, maybe even proud, for my bald head, but if I have a gross-looking lump on my body too? [Remember that awesome part in My Big Fat Greek Wedding when the greek Mom(?) talks about the growth on her neck? and her "bibopsi"? and how they found teeth and, yes, it was her twin?? Seriously, that scene/joke actually just might get me through this.]

On a much happier, even joyful, note, my older half-sister Linda has been visiting us for the past 10 days. Linda, Jaci, and me fell in into a giggly, honest, comfortable rhythm the moment she arrived. We all haven't seen each other in a decade, but after ten days, I feel like we've been best friends all along. She is an extraordinary cook. She puts ALL the wanna-be "Top Chef"s to shame. Seriously. So, we've been spoiled by her culinary prowess and just her gentle, compassionate, funny presence. It's so amazing to feel our connection and love; our Dad's blood certainly runs through all of our veins and his personality is aptly present our likenesses. She departs tomorrow, but, as I told her, there is honestly NOTHING I can say for certain about what I'm going to do after all this over, except that I will definitely go visit her on Galiano Island as soon as I can.

I should also mention that we've had another on-again off-again visitor. Luke has been a great help to Jaci and Linda, while being a sweet and fun companion for me. He's leaving for Atlanta on Wednesday and I'm not sure if he plans to come back anytime soon, but I hope he does. I will leave it at that, as I don't really like to write about my ex-fiance much in this blog, mostly because it's too personal (you're thinking- butt cellulite is too personal!) and also because our status seems more mercurial than ANY online publication could keep up with, and this languid blog doesn't even try.

One final thing, I have to add an addendum to the list of things that Lola and I have in common. You see, Lola is a very social loving puppy and when we leave her at home alone, she welcomes us back with various shredded items littered throughout the living room. Most of the time, it's kleenex or other junk, but she's ruined several pairs of shoes, a beautiful bracelet Jaci beaded herself, sunglasses, etc- not to mention all the food she's consumed that she shouldn't have. So, Linda offered Jaci a suggestion and it really seems to work. When Linda was telling her husband on the phone about their success with keeping Lola busy and happy during human absences, these are the words I overheard:
"They've been trying all kinds of solutions but i really think that the bone marrow is the cure."
well, i thought that was pretty funny, since a donor match for me and a cow femur segment for Lola are essentially the same remedy for our most pressing needs.