"You've become a luxury we can no longer afford." This from my boss on Friday the thirteenth.
I hate cliches.
I'm a person who cringes when gay friends lisp, when lesbians wear sensible shoes, when my dogs stop to pee at fire hydrants and when I go completely blonde; like today when I popped a piece of gum in my mouth with the wrapper still on.
Yes, laid off on Friday the Thirteenth. I think that was three years from the day my cousin Robin (a nurse) found her boyfriend Kenny dead in bed, resplendent in his tropical fish panties.
Kenny was a gorgeous guy, absolutely gorgeous, with prematurely white hair. Kenny Rogers wishes he looked as good as this guy. They'd been together five or six years.
They'd had their gazillionth fight. Her last words to him were "fuck you."
Then the traditional three days passed and it was about time for him to call and admit what a worthless piece of shit he was and lie that he would never do that (whatever heinous act it was) again so long as he lived.
He didn't call - but friends did, asking if she'd seen him. Nobody had. Not for three days.
Robin - like me and my granddaughter - is a sensitive. She knew something was wrong and took her mother with her. The morning Robin found him, he was on his side, in the fetal position. At first they thought Kenny was asleep, then she saw the pooled blood on the lower side of his body. There was a melted popcicle on the sheets and half a glass of red wine on the nightstand.
And she would find later, an appointment book filled with notations of various doctors around town who were prescribing the Vicodin that he mixed with the alcohol that killed him. Newly retired from Ford, staying high was Kenny's new Job One.
He had lied to her, cheated on her with total whores and utterly humiliated her around town. I'd read his tarot cards. I remember looking him in the eye with both of us knowing without a doubt that he was all about Kenny and nobody else; he just was who he was.
And you know what? Despite all that, I loved him too.
I spent about four days with Robin, up to the funeral. We talked a lot. We cried, we laughed. I told her "you didn't have the strength to dump him, so God offed him."
She nodded. She knew. I didn't say it to be mean. I said it because Robin is the finest, kindest person I know and she deserves better. (At the funeral, Kenny's parents gave her the respect she'd never received in all her time with their son. The respect of a true partner. )
I hate cliches.
I'm a person who cringes when gay friends lisp, when lesbians wear sensible shoes, when my dogs stop to pee at fire hydrants and when I go completely blonde; like today when I popped a piece of gum in my mouth with the wrapper still on.
Yes, laid off on Friday the Thirteenth. I think that was three years from the day my cousin Robin (a nurse) found her boyfriend Kenny dead in bed, resplendent in his tropical fish panties.
Kenny was a gorgeous guy, absolutely gorgeous, with prematurely white hair. Kenny Rogers wishes he looked as good as this guy. They'd been together five or six years.
They'd had their gazillionth fight. Her last words to him were "fuck you."
Then the traditional three days passed and it was about time for him to call and admit what a worthless piece of shit he was and lie that he would never do that (whatever heinous act it was) again so long as he lived.
He didn't call - but friends did, asking if she'd seen him. Nobody had. Not for three days.
Robin - like me and my granddaughter - is a sensitive. She knew something was wrong and took her mother with her. The morning Robin found him, he was on his side, in the fetal position. At first they thought Kenny was asleep, then she saw the pooled blood on the lower side of his body. There was a melted popcicle on the sheets and half a glass of red wine on the nightstand.
And she would find later, an appointment book filled with notations of various doctors around town who were prescribing the Vicodin that he mixed with the alcohol that killed him. Newly retired from Ford, staying high was Kenny's new Job One.
He had lied to her, cheated on her with total whores and utterly humiliated her around town. I'd read his tarot cards. I remember looking him in the eye with both of us knowing without a doubt that he was all about Kenny and nobody else; he just was who he was.
And you know what? Despite all that, I loved him too.
I spent about four days with Robin, up to the funeral. We talked a lot. We cried, we laughed. I told her "you didn't have the strength to dump him, so God offed him."
She nodded. She knew. I didn't say it to be mean. I said it because Robin is the finest, kindest person I know and she deserves better. (At the funeral, Kenny's parents gave her the respect she'd never received in all her time with their son. The respect of a true partner. )
Friday the Thirteenth. Note to self - find a way to avoid those.
It has been a rocky ride since my thirteenth. I have highs where I know I'll be fine and lows where I wonder if I'll have to hook up with some moonstruck old boobophile and look at ear hair every night for the rest of my (or his) life.
Someone asked how I was doing and I said "well, I'm not reduced to giving blow jobs in the parking lot yet." If I can't manage a simple stick of gum ....
Yes, I already have freelance work. Yes I have feelers out there, more every day; but I am having the worst time focusing on the work at hand.
One nice thing did happen today. There are no accidents in life. At least for those of us who are paying attention.
Some months back I met a guy online who had a friend who was sick. And somehow we got to talking about it and I said "sounds like she has Lyme Disease." It seemed like a stretch ... she was bad off, in a wheelchair. There were other symptoms, all horrendous, life altering and confusing. Like mine, only far worse.
And my mother had already decided where my remains would be interred.
The sick woman called me and we talked. It sounded like Lyme to me.
I got this email today. Things like this make my two years of undiagnosed hell almost seem like they were worth it. At least I got to spare someone else years of misery:
Hi. Carolynn B here. We corresponded a couple months ago about lyme? Well I have seen Dr. Markowitz, gone through two 24 hour urine collections for analysis, supplied 18 vials of bloodwork (I don't think I have any more to spare!) and perhaps it isn't surprising, but BINGO! They've determined a lyme situation here. So next Thursday I go up to St. Joe's Pontiac to have an I.V. needle inserted, get back to Keego Harbor to an associate of Dr. Markowitz to show me how to give myself the weekly treatments.
I just can't thank you enough for having directed me. I'm indebted to Dan for connecting me to you FOR that direction. I'm getting decidedly emotional about this because FINALLY there's hope for reversal. I mean I'm looking at regaining my mobility! So if one looks at this "cosmically'', I was meant to have to wait a certain length of time for certain individuals to come into my life, you being among them.
And I suppose there have been certain lessons for me to learn too, like patience, perserverence, keeping a cheeky attitude and not having too many pity parties, and also seeing first hand the plight of many disabled and senior citizens. If I could figure out how to become an advocate for that issue I would.
But I just wanted to contact you and let you know the update and how instrumental you were. Thank you so much. I am so jazzed about this. 4-5 weeks is nothing compared to the results. And funny thing is, is that between conventional and alternative approaches, a common link/conclusion was found. Something in the brain, unaddressed previous virus causing havoc with mobility. And this will ultimately be like a birthday present for my son, as he's always been such a help and "Next time I see you I want to see you walking....". I can imagine going to visit him in the air force and NOT using a wheelchair! I can see in my mind's eye climbing the Akropolis in Greece, without using a wheelchair and the cage built for disabled. It was my one focus to do that, so I suppose I'd better follow through!
Thanks, Mick! I hope I'll be able to pass on the 'baton' of hope and encouragement to someone else.
Sincerely,
Carolynn B
I will go to bed tonight feeling blessed to have had a role in Carolynn's recovery. There's nothing more important than a life that has meaning for others.
And my mother had already decided where my remains would be interred.
The sick woman called me and we talked. It sounded like Lyme to me.
I got this email today. Things like this make my two years of undiagnosed hell almost seem like they were worth it. At least I got to spare someone else years of misery:
Hi. Carolynn B here. We corresponded a couple months ago about lyme? Well I have seen Dr. Markowitz, gone through two 24 hour urine collections for analysis, supplied 18 vials of bloodwork (I don't think I have any more to spare!) and perhaps it isn't surprising, but BINGO! They've determined a lyme situation here. So next Thursday I go up to St. Joe's Pontiac to have an I.V. needle inserted, get back to Keego Harbor to an associate of Dr. Markowitz to show me how to give myself the weekly treatments.
I just can't thank you enough for having directed me. I'm indebted to Dan for connecting me to you FOR that direction. I'm getting decidedly emotional about this because FINALLY there's hope for reversal. I mean I'm looking at regaining my mobility! So if one looks at this "cosmically'', I was meant to have to wait a certain length of time for certain individuals to come into my life, you being among them.
And I suppose there have been certain lessons for me to learn too, like patience, perserverence, keeping a cheeky attitude and not having too many pity parties, and also seeing first hand the plight of many disabled and senior citizens. If I could figure out how to become an advocate for that issue I would.
But I just wanted to contact you and let you know the update and how instrumental you were. Thank you so much. I am so jazzed about this. 4-5 weeks is nothing compared to the results. And funny thing is, is that between conventional and alternative approaches, a common link/conclusion was found. Something in the brain, unaddressed previous virus causing havoc with mobility. And this will ultimately be like a birthday present for my son, as he's always been such a help and "Next time I see you I want to see you walking....". I can imagine going to visit him in the air force and NOT using a wheelchair! I can see in my mind's eye climbing the Akropolis in Greece, without using a wheelchair and the cage built for disabled. It was my one focus to do that, so I suppose I'd better follow through!
Thanks, Mick! I hope I'll be able to pass on the 'baton' of hope and encouragement to someone else.
Sincerely,
Carolynn B
I will go to bed tonight feeling blessed to have had a role in Carolynn's recovery. There's nothing more important than a life that has meaning for others.
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