Archive for April, 2006
It’s been a week since my biopsy, and there is still no word from my dermatologist. Hopefully, I’ll get the results during my appointment this Friday. I’m not sure I can wait any longer than that without having a full-blown meltdown.
This health scare is the latest in a long line of stupid never ending crap that is my life. First, there was my bad marriage, now my bad divorce, financial worries, and chronic health problems. Living with rheumathoid arthritis isn’t easy, until I compare it with the idea of living with cancer. Now that would suck!
I’m not sure when it happened, but at some point in the last week, I decided to change my way of living, in the hope that it would spare me further health problems, especially with the big C.
It began with the foods I eat — well, don’t eat. I restricted my consumption of bread, pasta, sugar (artificial and natural) and starchy vegetables to once a day. I eat very little nightshade vegetables, twice a week at the most. I still have dairy, but that is more out of concern for my osteopenia than anything else. I eat loads of green leafy vegetables, zucchini, celery, apples, and on and on with nature’s bounty. I occassionally sneak in a small fruit bar or a toffuti cutie, but that isn’t every day.
Oftentimes, when looking at food I don’t think, “Mmmmm, yummy!” I think, “Hmmmm, will this give problems later today? Will I be paying for this years down the road?” Eating feels less like a pleasurable sensation and more like the path to sickness and disease.
Today, I watched a friend fry hamburger patties in butter. For the first few seconds, they smelled great. Very quickly, the odor changed from yummy goodness to thick and smoothering. (No, she didn’t burn the butter!) As I stared at the raw, red patties I imagined what my doctor saw as she cut out my mole for the biopsy. They were completely unappetizing after that!
I would call my new eating habits a healthy lifestyle change were they not motivated by fear. I expect my every meal to give me cancer. That can’t be normal!
It begs the question: is this the beginning of an eating disorder?
I don’t know.
It strikes me as funny that after all the years of stress from living with my soon to be ex-husband, Endicott, when the worst (our marriage) is almost over, is when I finally flip out!
It freakin’ figures.
F*cked-up Flo
April 26th, 2006
About six months ago, I noticed a new mole. Well, I thought it was new, but I couldn’t really be sure. I have so many freckles and moles, I can’t track them all. At the time, I remember thinking, “You must be new, ‘cuz I really don’t remember you. But I’ve got my eye on you now, Mister.”
Yes, that’s how I talk to myself. Scary, huh?
Four months later, I noticed a new dark spot on the mole. I promised myself that I’d mention it to my dermatologist during my next office visit. After several cancellations (all on my end), that day was today.
My doctor’s reply: “I don’t like the look of that. It’s probably nothing, but I’ll take a biopsy of it and send it to the lab.” She turned to jot down some notes in my file. “It’ll be quick and easy. It’ll take me longer to fill out the paperwork!”
That was fine by me. It gave me more time to catch up with Keifer Sutherland on the cover of “Rolling Stone” magazine. Now that his chimpmunk cheeks are gone, he looks much more appealing. Hmmmmm…
Sidetracked by the magazine, I didn’t feel much of anything as my doctor poked, cut, then stitched me up. It was very quick and easy, exactly as she said it would be. The funky part was having the nurse apply pressure to my stitches for ten minutes. Ten minutes is a long time to have a stranger — even a compassionate, caring one — touch you. I kinda wish we had a drink first, we would have been much more comfortable!
On my way home, deep in my Keifer fueled fantasy (like you haven’t thought about him, too!), it finally sunk in that I may have cancer. I probably don’t. It’s probably nothing. But it could be something. If it wasn’t a possibility, my doctor would not have taken out a chunk of my chest. If it is, how am I going to tell my Mom?…Oh gawd, my Mom would freak out!
It’s bad enough seeing her get worked up about my rheumathoid arthritis. But cancer — even something as common as skin cancer — I don’t think she could take it…So at that moment, driving through Burbank, I freaked out.
Yes, I freaked out over something that did not and may not happen. I was upset by the thought of my Mom possibly being upset. I cried all the way home.
As I walked up the steps to my apartment, I imagined all the ways my family would react to the news of my possible diagnosis; how they’d deal with yet another family member living with cancer. Just then, I lost my footing and found myself teetering on the back of my foot. In that split second when I wasn’t sure if I would fall backwards or not, I grabbed onto the railing. As I straightened myself and continued walking upstairs, I thought, “Oh for f*ck’s sake, snap out of it! Are you gonna cry all night about how you almost died here, too?”
I hate to admit that it took a scolding from my inner Ms. Crankypants to get me out of my funk.
This thing with my mole is what it is. No amount of worrying/crying/being sick to my stomach will change that. Either I’m sick or I’m not. If I am sick, I’ll deal with it. And if I’m not sick, I’ll celebrate my good fortune, then start taking my vitamins again like nobody’s business!
Adios,
Flo
April 20th, 2006
I’m a creature of habit. Every morning, I do the same thing, in the same order: I get up, get out of bed, drag a comb across my head (I couldn’t resist!) before I step on my bathroom scale.
Every day, I saw the same number. A few weeks ago that number went down, and down…then it went down further than that! Without much effort, I lost five pounds!
Most girls would be pleased with that result. In case it’s not yet obvious, I’m not most girls.
That’s when my cell phone rang. “Dude,” I squealed to my best bud, Jean Luc, “I just stepped on the scale! I think I lost five pounds!”
JL: “That’s great! How did you do that?”
Flo: “I did what the chiropractor suggested: I cut back on my breads and pastas, and stopped eating sugars.”
JL: “Well, that will do it. Congratulations!”
I finally stepped off the scale. “Uh, thanks, I guess.” I sighed as I began pacing the bathroom. “I should be happy…”
JL: “Yeah, that’s right. You should be happy.”
(No reply from me.)
JL: “But?” he asked.
Flo: “But I’m not happy! My heart is racing — I’m kinda freaking out!”
JL: “Oh that’s great, Flo!” He laughed out loud. “Only you would get upset about losing weight!”
Flo: “I’ve wanted to lose this stupid (bad marriage) weight for so long, that when it finally happens, I don’t think I can maintain it!”
JL: “That’s just like the movie (I forgot the title — sorry!). A guy inherits a house. He can’t deal with the overwhelming responsibility of being a home owner, so he drinks. The opening scene finds him drunk in a ditch!”
Flo: “Oh gawd, that could totally happen to me! Only I’d wake up one morning with my head in the ‘fridge, surrounded by empty pudding cups and a spoon stuck in my hair!”
Jean Luc laughed out loud. “I like it!”
“Don’t laugh, Dude,” I said as I walked back onto my bathroom scale, “it could happen.”
There’s always room for Jello,
Flo
April 19th, 2006
I had lunch with my friend Crazy Joe (hey, he asked for that pseudonym!) over the weekend.
At some point, I told CJ all about someone I just met. He’s cute, funny, intelligent, and (for once) my own age. Did I mention tall? I LOVE that he’s all of those things and taller than me when I wore high heels.
Nothing has happened, but it could. It’s a situation full of possibilities — all of which I’d like to explore. All of which would be easier if I wasn’t an insecure freak!
CJ agrees, “The worst thing someone could say about you is your lack of confidence.” (I’m glad that’s the worst he thinks of me!)
Men love a confident woman, he said. “Maggie is a great example of that.”
Maggie is an actress we know out in Riverside, CA. She’s a funny, vivacious woman with a magnetic personality. She’s often cast as a wicked witch or an evil step-sister in kid theatrical productions, but don’t let that fool you: she does just fine in the romance department.
“Oh my gawd, you’re right! She’s had a lot of boyfriends. Some of them were really hot!”
When the movie “Swingers,” came out, I kept thinking her then fiance could have played the “Trent Walker” role better than Vince Vaughn. He was also hotter than Vince Vaughn — I kid you not.
“By all rites, she should be some mousy librarian out in the middle of nowhere, but she’s not. I know you’re not going to believe me, but even when someone looks like she does, and she’s confident, men find that woman — even Maggie — sexy.”
“Wow,” I said, partly stunned that CJ sees Maggie as sexy. “I know she has an amazing personality, but, jeez…” I keep wondering how far personality can take you when you’re naked and close to someone else. Then I remembered everyone I’ve been close to…”Yeah, I guess that sounds about right!”
Here’s my favorite thing CJ said: “Imagine what she could do if she looked like you!”
Imagine indeed!
Flo
April 18th, 2006
“So what’s taking so long (with your divorce)?
“When will your divorce be final?”
“What’s happening with your divorce?”
“So when can we celebrate (your divorce)?”
“Isn’t it (your never ending divorce) over by now?”
I get these questions a lot. In fact, I heard the last four in the last two days. Seems when one has a blog called www.idiotexhusband.com, people come to expect the husband to be an ex ASAP. Once they hear I’ve been separated for fifteen months, and still haven’t completed the paperwork to finalize the divorce, they usually stare a few seconds before asking, “Why?!”
Since I’ve made it painfully clear that a reconcilliation between myself and my soon to be ex-husband, Endicott, will never, EVER happen. that’s a fair question.
Here’s my answer: I forgot.
When we filed the paperwork ourselves in late May of 2005, we were told that the second set of papers could be filed six months and a day later. I swore I’d burn that date into my memory, write it down in a calendar, tattoo it onto my arm — anything so I wouldn’t forget my obligation…or as a clerk at the Van Nuys Courthouse put it, “The papers of freedom!”
Of course, I didn’t do that. I forgot to write down the reminders — I needed reminders for my reminders? — so it completely slipped my mind until December 2005.
It nagged at me throughout the month. “Shouldn’t the degree be finalized soon?” I thought, “I’ll check on it when things calm down.” Finally, in January 2006, I drove myself over to the courthouse and got the bad news.
[Before you criticize me, let me point out this is my first (and hopefully only) divorce, so I'm not exactly a pro at this paperwork crap!]
A week later, my rheumathoid arthritis flare-up began. That ragged on for several months, leaving me exhausted and miserable, barely able to work. Everything but the essentials — rent, food, and car insurance — were ignored. It has only been in the last three weeks that my health has improved enough to revisit this task.
With any luck, I’ll be back at the courthouse very soon, filing the “papers of freedom.”
Adios,
Flo
April 15th, 2006
Any regular reader here at IXH knows I’m not exactly a consistent blogger. If anything, I’m a total slacker in that area. It’s a damn shame, too, given how many stories I want to share with you.
My current count is up to a dozen. That number goes up to two dozen if I include the stuff I promised to never post…Those stories are the best! Those are the ones I get emails about. Okay, that’s not entirely true. I got one email on it once, but the rest of the inquiries were lots and lots of phone calls from friends and family members. Those untold stories are the ones I WOULD get email about if I actually posted them…But I won’t. (Ask me why. Go ahead. You know you want to!) I can’t tell you about them because I oh-so-stupidly promised to keep it to myself.
Why would I do such a thing? ‘Cuz I’m a sucka!
I mistakenly believed that making that promise would prove my sincerity and deem me trustworthy in the eyes of someone I sincerely adore…Of course, that didn’t happen. (Duh!)
Trust doesn’t happens overnight. It’s built over time; earned through years of shared experiences, and more often, shared secrets.
So, yes, without thinking, I gave up more than I should have…But don’t think I didn’t try to get it back. I asked a whole lot of the following questions, “But what if I don’t write about you exactly, but I say, ‘I did this and this and it was that!’ Wouldn’t that be okay?!”
Imagine my disappointment when the reply was no.
At first, it didn’t seem like a big deal to give up these posts. I already self-censor stories that could seriously hurt others (that includes my soon to be ex-husband, Endicott). But very quickly, I realized what I really gave up: my voice.
But hey, a promise is a promise. And I intend to keep this one.
In fact, I just renegotiated the terms to include that this person, who I promised to never again post stories about on the internet (notice I said nothing about books, interviews, short films, and media not yet invented? I’m kidding!), can never write about me.
I know it’s a silly request given that no one would ever write about me. The important thing is that it feels like parity, even if it really isn’t.
The more I think about it, the less likely I am to exercise this option. I go back and forth on this as I ask myself, “When is it okay to interfere? And if one does, is it quieting someone else’s voice? Isn’t it only fair to protect yourself? But is there really anything to protect yourself from? For f*ck’s sake, why is this bothering me so much?! Is it too late to take this back?! Am I the only person who has a problem with this?! Oh my gawd, what have I done?!”
I know plenty of people who have no problem telling others what to think/feel/say/do. That’s just not me…not usually!
…I’m in big trouble, huh?
I’ll be good, I promise!
Flo
April 14th, 2006