Death, it seems is everywhere around me, lurking, imminent.
I've had many friends recently diagnosed with breast cancer, having mastectomies, chemotherapy. Depressing. Scary.
This was going to be a post about a book about death. Interesting, but not scary, nor maudlin. Rather the examination of one woman's thoughts and feelings after the unthinkable happens. The book is The Year of Magical Thinking, by Joan Didion. It is a wonderful book, and deserves, and will get, its own post.
I finished the book yesterday. Last night, I got a call from Keith, my landscaper. He's become a fixture around here much as Eldin was in Murphy Brown's life. About the time Keith started this project, his wife was diagnosed with laryngeal cancer, after years of smoking. Keith smokes too. Terrible addiction, that. Toni had radical surgery and now breathes through a hole in her neck. It will be allowed to close at some point down the line, but for now, she breathes through it, and is fed through a tube in her stomach. She's visited here to look over the project (The Project). She's sweet and funny. She saw her primary physician yesterday, and, according to her, according to him, the doctor told her to get her affairs in order, she won't be here this time next year.
There are many problems with this...starting with the deplorable bedside manner, then leaving her alone in an exam room to deal with this by herself. In addition, her surgeon had seen the same films and didn't think there was tumor, but treated her for infection. And she's gained six pounds on a high calorie diet.
So Keith called me last night. He'd obviously been crying. He hadn't been with her on this visit to the doctor, it was a routine visit, so he felt guilty as well as shocked and depressed. They're going to get a second opinion. It's scary as Hell. Toni's only 45.
This morning, I got a call from work. I was supposed to be off this week, but due to various other things, have worked every day and will work tomorrow. The caller, my friend, informed me that our friend Jack's oldest son had been found dead. Jack's son, actually stepson, but it never mattered, was about 20, beautiful to look at, smart as a whip, but always a bit antisocial, trouble with drugs and alcohol, motor vehicle accidents, dramatic battles with his parents. She thought that was the son who'd been found dead. The other boy, Jack's biological son, is much more of a "good kid" type, so I think it's the other boy. It's no better or worst, though. A terrible loss, no matter whom, no matter how, no matter why.
That's all I have to say. I have the blues. I have the right to have the blues, though all this is peripheral to my life. It affects people I care about, and reminds me , as Didion often says in her book, in one way or another: It was just an ordinary day "And then...gone."
We'll all be there. It's just a matter of when.
["Christian on the Borders of the Valley of the Shadow of Death" by Joyce Zucker, from the Journal of the American Institute for Conservation.
Ironically, I have a Playlist on my iTunes which I started putting together the last time you talked about the Blues which I've labeled Reanna's Blues. I figured I'd make you a good Don't Fuck with Me, I've Got the Blues cd. I think I need to get it finished and send it to you.
Posted by: Houston | September 27, 2007 at 08:22 PM
Ironically, I have a Playlist on my iTunes which I started putting together the last time you talked about the Blues which I've labeled Reanna's Blues. I figured I'd make you a good Don't Fuck with Me, I've Got the Blues cd. I think I need to get it finished and send it to you.
Posted by: Houston | September 27, 2007 at 08:22 PM
Ironically, I have a Playlist on my iTunes which I started putting together the last time you talked about the Blues which I've labeled Reanna's Blues. I figured I'd make you a good Don't Fuck with Me, I've Got the Blues cd. I think I need to get it finished and send it to you.
Posted by: Houston | September 27, 2007 at 08:22 PM
Ironically, I have a Playlist on my iTunes which I started putting together the last time you talked about the Blues which I've labeled Reanna's Blues. I figured I'd make you a good Don't Fuck with Me, I've Got the Blues cd. I think I need to get it finished and send it to you.
Posted by: Houston | September 27, 2007 at 08:23 PM
Sounds like it's time for us to split another bottle of chianti over a huge Italian meal. Then we'll get so full that we'll be simultaneously glad to be alive while feeling almost dead. ;)
Let me know when to buy the plane ticket. I'm there...
Posted by: Shawn Lea | September 28, 2007 at 01:01 PM
Ironically ...
I guess I made my point, but why I did it four times is beyond me. Is beyond me. Is beyond me. Is beyond me.
Posted by: Houston | September 28, 2007 at 07:07 PM
Ouch, ouch, ouch. We didn't know. Time for some comedic movies, dancing, massage, and happy phone calls. [Hint, hint.]xx-L
Posted by: LC | September 30, 2007 at 09:45 AM
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