September 2014 – Page 3 – *the gratitude-a-thon

bunion-a-tude-a-thon day 405: the bunion has left the building

September 11, 2014September 11, 2014UncategorizedLeave a Comment

Bunion Voyage Party, I mean Surgery, 9/10/14, 8:45 am. New England Baptist Surgical Center

IMG_2130 (2) — A last look at my bunion right out of bed. Yeah, that bad boy has got to go. And by the way, you can’t wear toe nail polish because they look at your toes for oxygen or something. I don’t know, what am I a doctor? All I know, if I haven’t not had nail polish on my toes in like 10 years. And I don’t like it a bit.

After taking 2 milligrams of Valium last night, and eating a perfect last bunion supper, consisting of a shake shack cheese burger and fries, i actually fell into a deep sleep around 10. I woke up at 5 am and was dying for coffee, but instead popped another 2 milligrams of Valium and got dressed. We arrived at the New England Baptist surgical center in Dedham, where every receptionist and nurse looked like they were filming a Crest commercial. I signed all the paper work, plus a health care proxy, mentioning to the receptionist that my burial outfit should consist solely of sexy Jimmy Choo’s or knock me over, fuck me, Monolo’s. (Just in case my family hadn’t taken note.)

6:30 arrival. I’m a vision with my no make-up, wonky hair look, Good God and it’s fashion week (welp, not in Dedham).

I went into my own little cubby, where literally everybody that passed by me was giving me teeth. I was seriously curious if the whole staff got some sort of drugs in the break room, and I wanted in. I got all checked in, changed into the lovely scrubs, had a training session with crutches, where I was pronounced a “rock star” (they gave you kudos’ for breathing in this place, which was just fine with me). Finally Doctor Cullen came by, and told me he did a warm-up surgery before mine, and greeted me by saying, “Well, look at who’s here.” I suppose he was referring to the fact that I’d been talking about having surgery with him for a solid decade and finally was. I walked into the operating room, which was freezing, and made me wonder if I had by accidentally stumbled into a morgue. I started getting the Michael Jackson drug in my IV and the next thing I knew I was awake and asking how I did. I went to my recovery cubby, gobbled down some crackers, and drank some ginger ale, and was stunned by my lack of pain. Another absurdly nice nurse took care of me, including bringing me a rose from the hospital (way to go, NEB, flowers will get your EVERYWHERE). I walked on crutches to the bathroom without a problem. Dr.Cullen swung by and told me I did really well, and that my bone took the screw beautifully. I got in the car with no problem, stopped at Dunkin’ for coffee (because America crutches on Dunkin’), and Finagle a Bagel for bagels and cream cheese (because I rarely eat them, but AM IN DEEP PASSIONATE LOVE WITH THEM, and you should eat something you love when you’re getting part of your foot chopped off). I flopped onto the couch when I arrived home, got a big furry welcome from Riley, a visit and flowers from my sister and brother-in-law and three other friends popped over, who also brought flowers and treats. Peter overcooked (exactly how I like ’em) my everything bagel and slathered on the cream cheese, and with my coffee, a new series, The Chair–a contest between two film makers making the same film–I began my recovery.

The boot is sort of heavy, and sleeping wasn’t that easy, but I still have the nerve block, so no pain. And I’d like to say right here, I could marry that nerve block and live happily ever after. I do have some odd discoloration on my calf, which began blotching and itching last night, but Cortaid to the rescue. I’ll mention it to the doctor today, but thinking that it might be from applying cold packs directly to my skin, which good patient that I am, I did every 30 minutes yesterday, until bed.

Rocking the scrubs and groovy surgical hat! Wait, maybe it is fashion week in Dedham.

They mark your foot before you go in, so they don’t make a mistake. I wanted them to write “fuck you.”

And immediately post-surgery in my little cubby, blood pressure cup and NO PAIN.

And there’s das boot. It’s sort of heavier than I’d imagined. Look at the other sock. I tried it on both ways, and it just didn’t fit. They need to do something about those.

My bunion and the impending surgery I knew I would have to have at some point has literally, HONESTLY been on my “to do” list for approximately 15 years. Last night when I woke up, IT WASN’T, well I mean, I had a giant boot on my leg resting on a pile of pillows, so it was, but not in the same way. I have some disbelief and elation that I was finally able to make this choice (I was really not able to make it for all those years, despite trying very hard), that I’ve done it, and that now I’m on the road to recovery (of being able to exercise and shoe shop). I’m sure it might get more painful as the days pile up, but right now, grati-fucking-tude for everything that’s gone right. Buh-bye bunion. Hope the knife hit you in the ass on the way out the door.

gratitude-a-thon day 404: bunion voyage

September 9, 2014Uncategorized1 Comment

Don’t worry about the veins–I’ve always been veiny, even when I was young. We’re looking at the bulge on the left foot. That’s the thing we’re getting rid of. And if you’re thinking it’s purely a cosmetic procedure, you’re wrong. This bump is taking over the joint.

images — Here are normal (and beautiful) feet. See how the two toes meet.

Here are my poor little feet. See how the left one is trying to exit stage left ?

Tomorrow at this time I will be all valiumed up, awaiting 7:30 departure for bunion surgery. It’s only been a lifetime in the making, and 10 years of trying to muster my courage, find the right doctor and do it. This thing has plagued me in the middle of the night, when I worry that it will take over and I won’t be able to exercise or walk. It’s forced me to give up one of the world’s great pleasures: shoe shopping. Plus it’s ugly. Plus it’s gotten so big, it’s starting to order its own meal in restaurants (that’s where I draw the line).

I won’t be able to do much for a week, but rest, ice, elevate. And then I’ll be in a boot. And then I’ll be in physical therapy. And then I’ll be in like really ugly wide boxy sneakers, and then around January, I might be able to get myself into some sort of cute-ish real life shoes. Yeah, this is going to be a long haul.

In the end, I hope I’ll have made a smart choice. Sometimes you have to live by the words of Nike and “Just do it.” I sure hope this is one of those times.

gratitude-a-thon day 403: earthly intelligence

September 8, 2014UncategorizedLeave a Comment

There is a not so subtle cool in the air. The shifting of seasons has begun. Just like that, it happens. We sit in our houses, carry on as usual, and nature just knows how to morph. It feels a little like magic to me (not that I enjoy the cold weather, bet you didn’t know that), the idea that something that’s not run by humans has such precision. The earth is smart. When you look at it like that, it’s really very cool. (Too bad it can’t defend itself against our gross neglect.)

gratitude-a-thon day 402: who could put up with ME for 27 years?

September 6, 2014September 6, 2014UncategorizedLeave a Comment

Yesterday was the 27th year of my marriage. Here’s a few things I’ve learned.

1. Marriage is hard work. No, it’s not like being on the chain gang, but there’s a lot of labor involved You can’t sit back and hope that it will survive. That’s just what a long term relationship takes. Fact.

2. You will fall in and out of love a million times. Yeah, even while you’re married, you can have rough patches where you think the thing won’t survive and you’re sure you’re no longer in love, but then the wind shifts, and you’re right back in it.

3. You gotta compromise. That’s the deal. You can’t always have your way. This is as true in a friendship as it is in a marriage.

4. You need date nights. Don’t scrimp on these. I’m telling you, you’ll pay for it.

5. Do stuff with friends. Friends are nourishing to a marriage.

6. The honeymoon does indeed end, but the sum of what you’ve seen, experienced, built and made together replaces it.

7. Compassion is essential. Your partner will hit the skids, and so will you. Stand by.

8. Note to men: Jewelry and flowers always help. Especially for absolutely no reason.

9. Fight. Some people say it’s bad to fight, but I say it’s just what happens in a long term relationship. Say your thing, get it out. Start again.

10. Laugh. Together, apart, at yourselves. This is maybe the most important thing I’ve learned.

gratitude-a-thon day 401: can we talk?

September 5, 2014September 5, 2014UncategorizedLeave a Comment

“When I die (and yes, Melissa, that day will come; and yes Melissa, ever thing’s in your name), I want my funeral to be a huge showbiz affair with lights, cameras, action….I want craft services, I want paparazzi, and I want publicists making a scene! I want it to be Hollywood all the way. I don’t want some rabbi rambling on; I want Meryl Streep crying, in five different accents. I don’t want a eulogy; I want to look gorgeous, better dead than I do alive. I want to be buried in a Valentino gown and I want Harry Winston to make me a toe tag. And I want a wind machine so that even in my casket my hair is blowing just like Beyonce’s.”

–Joan Rivers

I first saw her with my parents on our black and white Zenith tv (which tells you how old she was, and how old I am). We all loved her. I remember thinking it interesting that her persona was sort of that of a housewife. I’d only ever seen men be funny.

I love to laugh more than almost anything, so I have been a Joan fan throughout the numerous second acts this woman has had, so many in fact, I half think she’s going to come back from the dead today. There was her early phase, before plastic surgery, where she knocked the socks off Johnny Carson, who told her after the first time she was on the Tonight Show, “You’re going to be a star” There was her late night phase. There was her surviving-the-suicide-of-her-husband-Edgar phase, her talk show, her down fall, her rebirth, her winning The Apprentice phase, her jewelry line for QVC, her red carpet “What are you wearing?” phase. There was her reality series with Melissa, her documentary, and of course the lauded, always brash, brave and funny Fashion Police phase. Not to mention her books, live stand up shows and talk show appearances. You gotta hand it to Joan, she was no slacker. This woman was commuting from New York to L.A. every week to film Fashion Police. AND SHE WAS EIGHTY FUCKING ONE. That is all.

Unknown — This was my favorite Joan hair.

But of course, it’s not all (not at all). It has to be said that Joan, while polarizing, and often down right mean to celebrities, she did whatever she did in the name of funny. This woman was a ground breaker, a glass ceiling buster, a genuine pioneer. She was prolific (in her documentary, she shows off her filing cabinets full of 30 years worth of jokes she’d written). She was honest. “I’ve had so much plastic surgery, when I die, I’m going to leave my body to Tupperware, ” She was a survivor, always creating another destination for herself, a new place to go. If she was working, she was happy. If you like Sarah Silverman, Kathy Griffin, Chelsea Handler, and so many other women comedians, well, thank Joan, because she plowed her way right through the boy’s club, for them to do what they do.

It’s hard to believe someone so spirited and bawdy and lively could be dead, but what a nice way to go. She went to sleep and didn’t’ wake up. At 81, health, vital and still excited by life, I’d take it. Bye, Joan. YOU WERE THE FUCKING BEST. No joke.

gratitude-a-thon day 400: speaking of fear

September 4, 2014UncategorizedLeave a Comment

I have a lot of fear about this stupid bunion surgery.

Seems to me fear is a cousin of failure. Nobody likes either of these guys. They’re basically butt ugly, insecure bullies. They come in, take over, raid the liquor cabinet, hunt out all your expired prescription drugs, and wreck your house. They hang around, and demand your attention like a fire alarm. They’re the people who just won’t leave the party.

Fear is a warning of danger, I suppose.

“Think about this, what you’re doing, experiencing, creating,” it says.

“I got you, dude, I did my research, and I’m ok, your job here is done.”

“I’m staying,” it says, sauntering around in my mind, looking for permanent residence. “I’m staying in this lovely place with all these other interesting thoughts racing around. I want to be just like them.” And then it gets all comfy, in like this gaudy barcalounger (Barcalounger? I can’t really believe my mind furnished itself this way, but there it is).

“I’m not giving you another minutes of my time,” I say to my fear straight up.

Because, see I know the only way fear gets to have any kind of life is to give it attention. So I try to ignore it on account of its bad, bad behavior. “You’re in a permanent time out,” I say. “You’re dead to me,” I say, throwing my nose in the air. It lies down, like a dog on a hot day, saving its energy for better times.

Although I’ve sent my fear its eviction notice, it seems to continue putting the laundry on the line, and using the air conditioning practically non-stop (and of course, you can’t believe what it’s done to my cable bill). I’m glad I don’t always allow it to get the better of me. There are plenty of times I get the better of it. But not this time. Not yet, anyway. But I’m going to keep trying. “Trying.” That’s like a cousin of optimism. Those guys are really nice.

gratitude-a-thon day 399: maybe brad and angelina got it right

September 3, 2014September 3, 2014UncategorizedLeave a Comment

I can’t help but wonder if maybe Brad and Angelina have it right. Have kids, and then get married. I mean, I really like the idea that the kids would be part of your commitment to one another. Anybody can make a baby, but deciding to make a family is a whole other story. Yeah, I know, divorce is always an option, or you can consciously uncouple, as easily as you can find a Starbucks, but there is something lovely to me about this whole clan getting married together, sealing the deal as a family.

And aren’t you just a little bit impressed with the two of them for being able to pull off a wedding without paparazzi, drama, press? Doesn’t it just make you think of them as really being in love vs. fake being in love? And what about the veil, with the kid’s drawings stitched in? Jeez, I’m a little in love with these guys myself. I know Angie has a checkered past, but between her humanitarian work, the way she handled her double mastectomy, and her general grace, I think she’s good people. Like, really good people. You guys killed it. Here’s to a long and happy life together, Jolie-Pitt clan. Maybe it’s a completely staged PR campaign, but good job, I for one, think you’re super cool.

gratitude-a-thon day 398: soccer season: it’s on

September 2, 2014UncategorizedLeave a Comment

Aaaaaaand the Brookline High Girls Varsity Soccer season starts today. Chairs in the trunk. Check. Sweatshirts in the trunk. Check. Raincoats, umbrellas, sunscreen, baseball hats. Check, check, check, check.

We had a rather rough(read: all kinds of BAD) season last year, but with a brand new coach, who seems to worship soccer the way my daughter does, this is already a better season (and it hasn’t even begun).

Peter and I try to go to every game. Hopefully, my bunion surgery will not prevent me from watching (how would it do that?) I just mean that I hope that I’m not in so much pain that I’m yowling and all sorts of cranky pants, making the other parents scared, and maybe making them want to call, like, Animal Control, because I’m such a beast.

Anyway, soccer is good. Soccer is great. And with any luck, we’ll get to the playoffs this year. And I will have a brand new foot by the time the season ends. That’s the goal. Hahahahahah.