April 15, 2006

Ich hob dir lieb

My Yiddish. I had to Google. "Ich hob dir lieb = I love you." Appropriate for my Shoshie. (And I hope if I post something it's not like some crazy curse word. My Yiddish Yoda Master would not like that. But I will try to keep up my lessons)

I liked this site because it said "Dick and Jane do Yiddish" It also had some funny sayings and curse words. Heh. It has a word of the day too. That could come in handy.

Yiddish is, above all, the paradigmatic “Jewish” language -- the insider’s way of communicating to fellow Jews about day-to-day things (talk about God and faith is reserved for Lashon Hakkodesh - the holy tongue of Hebrew). It is at once sarcastic and dark, yet it is ultimately full of vigor, hope, and charm. In it you can hear the pathos of Jewish suffering but also the omnipresent faith that the Jew’s future will triumph in hope.

I like the last part of that quote: the omnipresent faith that the Jew's future will triumph in hope.

Throughout my dealings with my leukemia, I have had to have that type of faith. The belief that I would get better and that it was not an option. To be hopeful that I would be cured. From the beginning I just never really saw it any other way. I just was not ready to die yet. And I never really thought about dying.

And yet, somehow, I'm scared now. Like a way lot. Like I'm not feeling very brave. I go to the clinic and every single transplant person there is struggling with some issue or other. Another death on the leukemia forum from bad Graft vs. Host disease. She was more than halfway to her 100 days.

It is really discouraging because no one seems to get back to normal. They have all kinds of problems for years after. While they may feel better than before, and hell that's not hard to do because you really do feel pretty shitty; feeling good is actually like saying I feel crappy vs. I feel really crappy. Does anyone ever feel really good. Like healthy? Energetic?

But I still go on. Because I don't really have a choice. And then I'm walking in the hallway with my old lady shuffle and stumble. I nearly fall. I get on the elevator and for some reason am really glad I'm wearing a mask because I just started crying. And it s funny to me because no one can tell. Not only do they not look at you, but they can't see your facial expressions. Which for a change is a total relief.

And that's how I feel like I'm living right about now. I write in my blog. I try to be brave. But I feel like a little kid in the dark who is laying there awake, scared to death, but too afraid to tell anyone.

I know I have a lot of work to do. I know it will take time. But I feel like a ticking time bomb sometimes. When will the fevers get me? When will I get a cold? Will I ever feel strong enough to take care of myself? Of Zoe? Will I always have these stomach problems? What are these meds doing to my kidneys? Will I always cringe when I hear someone cough? And will I ever stop looking at all kids as walking germ dispensers?

What infection is going to kill me?

And I don't want to think like that. I want those thoughts out of my head. Like now.

I guess it's because I don't feel better or stronger. I make a little progress, but I feel weaker. (and now uglier) And discouraged. And even though I'm surrounded by people that I know love me and support me, I feel, well, kind of alone. Because I don't want to show that I'm afraid. Or talk about it. And I don't want to be negative. Or ungrateful for everyone's caring.

I know sometimes for me it's really hard to go to the hospital. Mom drops me off like a kid at the mall and then I go get my blood drawn and go to the clinic. And it's like couple central. Worried couples sitting there. Holding hands. Solidarity. You never know how much you miss having someone in your life until you are surrounded by couples. Kind of like how I stopped going to church after my ex husband and I split because I couldn't take looking at the married families.

It's just really lonely to go through this. I lay in my bed and sometimes I just want someone to hug and kiss me and tell me that it will be ok. To let me cry. To let me be afraid. God knows my mom couldn't love me more or take better care of me, but sometimes you just want, well, a man that you know cares about you to let you be vunerable and scared. Isn't letting go of being afraid part of that healing process? Or are you always afraid?

As far as being lonely. I know that isn't anywhere on the agenda. I feel stupid for even having that on my mind. And that I should just be worried about getting better. But damnit, I am lonely. I miss men and dating and the idea that it is actually possible to date or have a boyfriend. Now I go to the hospital and people call me 'sir.' Great.

I've been awake since two am. It's now 4:30. I'm sleeping in, so don't call me. I don't think I want to talk about this anymore.

I can do this. There's no crying in cancer ass kicking. I know this too shall pass.


I have no assignment for today. I'm kind of feeling like a big dumb assh*le.

"I love you. You're doing real good, babe. You are."

I just long to hear those words. And yes. I miss him. Even if he did suck.

Posted by debutaunt at April 15, 2006 02:52 AM
Comments

Oh, come on. Of course there's crying in cancer ass-kicking. The cancer ass-kickers I know, a couple of them who come around here regularly, will tell you that, as soon as they're out of bed and over here this morning.
Um, Deb, hulllllooooo -- you're hanging out at a clinic! Of course you're gonna be looking at sick people! The ones who have gotten their normal lives back, like you will, aren't THERE! They're out taking care of their beautiful little girls and dating! You can do this. You can do all things.
You have just, this week, had your heart broken afresh, as we all have. Be patient with yourself. You remain amazing and inspirational. And you'd probably trade that for ordinary and healthy. We can only work with what we've been given, in any given moment. And like you kinda said here recently, all moments here are "given," are gifts. You are using your gifts so well.

Posted by: Susie at April 15, 2006 06:05 AM

okay -
have a sleep.
feel low.
I think you have the right.
I have noticed that I usually freak out after the crisis, perhaps you are having a similar reaction -
after all, you have lots of time to THINK.
I imagine it is very lonely.
Aren't there therapists to help people who are enduring life threatening illnesses? People who know how to guide you through the thought process?

sigh.
hug.

we'll talk tomorrow...

Posted by: blackbird at April 15, 2006 06:36 AM

Deborah,
The "silent sister" (Marcia/MJ) is here to
read your
blog, and report on how you are doing. As the
eldest and as a psychiastrist I am supposed to
be the strong one. Since I mentioned I am
a psychiastrist I can analyze all these feeling
you have. You do know these are all as natural
as breathing. Anyone who has ever been diagnosed
with a life altering disease feels life will never
be the same for them. Trauma in any form, leaves
"us" feeling very vunerable. In time those feeling
will be replaced with new feelings. The key word
is Time.

Shoshie will be proud of you. I wrote down
what you said in Yiddish. I actually came
not just to read how you were. But we all
wanted to give you a quote. A quote which
Nikki had given to Sarah. A quote which is
so fitting for you. On these black days for
us. We are trying hard for the smaller children.
Shoshie has written out this quote for everyone
in the family, in her "fancy writing". Susie
reminded us of the quote.

"The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity and an understanding of life that fills them with compassions, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen."

This quote fits you to a T Deborah. Today love
yourself as much as we love you, as much as
Nikki loved you. I will acknowledge your
feelings, for they belong to you. My sisters
would tell me enough with the psycho babble,
but it is true.

I "the silent one" am silent for a reason which
is not really important. What is important and
what I feel I should state. The love everyone
has shown to my sisters, and Nikki. The love
Deb has shows to all of us. The love she writes
about so freely, the way she has worked her
way into everyone's heart. Deborah, humans can
choose to be very loving. Some choose not to
be loving. Your choice will bring you rewards
some people will never see in their lives.

Marcia (MJ)

Posted by: SWLF at April 15, 2006 07:55 AM

Oh YES, there is crying involved in the kicking of the cancer's ass. I can identify with so many of the things you say, Deb--I sit here nodding my head every day as I read. I know that completely alone feeling, and my husband has been with me every step of the way. So yes, it would be nice for you to have a partner through all this, but it doesn't magically remove that lonely feeling.

You know what I always hated? I would be whining and crying to my husband, just generally feeling sorry for myself and talking about how I could die young. Every time he would respond with, "Yes, and I could get hit by a bus tomorrow." I know he was only trying to help, but I got so SICK of that! Finally I looked at him and said, "Yes you could, but we both know that's not actually going to happen, is it?! So cut it out! I don't ever want to hear you say that again!!"

You must feel like you're trying to hold up the world right now, being brave for Zoe and your mom and all of us here. Go ahead and be vulnerable. This is going to sound weird, but I bet your mom would hold you and let you cry. My mom did it for me, and it really does help.

Just remember, "We love you. You're doing real good, babe. You are."

Posted by: Sharkey at April 15, 2006 07:58 AM

Okay, in Shoshie's absence, my Lutheran ass will attempt something.

AHEM.

I know you are farmutshet. But you must folg mich! There IS crying is cancer ass-kicking. But, you are right, you will and will have to do this. ZOE ZOE ZOE.

It pisses me off that people don't look at you - and then call you "sir." I need to get you some bigass shiny Dallas earrings. Or we need to bedazzle your cell phone.

Oh, and iz brent mir ahfen hartz.

(Hoping I haven't said anything crazy.)

Posted by: Kami at April 15, 2006 09:05 AM

Oh, and you have Chuy's yet?

Posted by: Kami at April 15, 2006 09:08 AM

For what it is worth, your internet "fans" out here are praying for you (or sending you "fabulousness" vibes) and thinking you are one amazing biznitch. I say, allow yourself to feel the low feelings, then enjoy the relief when they leave. You already know they will leave. You are too genetically-programmed to kick a$$.

My deepest sympathies to the beautiful family as well.

Posted by: Monica the tiara chick at April 15, 2006 09:59 AM

Tears can be so cleansing. Allow them. And allowing that small moment of weakness and vulnerability also gives you an added opportunity to pick yourself back up, dust yourself off, and carry on.

I don't know what to tell you about the Sir crap. Do you know Bucky Four-Eyes? She's mistaken for a man a lot (her voice, that is). Maybe she could give you some pointers. Unfortunately that may involve unsavory comments or... ahem... accessories.

Before Kranki started her cancer-ass-kicking campaign, the topic of lost hair and wig possibilities came up. I found this one online: http://www.knitty.com/issuefall04/PATThallowig.html. I've since learned to knit, but not to speak knit (i.e., read patterns); otherwise I'd offer to make you one. Maybe someone here would be willing, if you were to want one, that is. May I suggest lime green, with matching lighting bolt-shaped eyebrows to compliment it?

Posted by: mrtl at April 15, 2006 03:31 PM

I have come on over from Random and Odd and I just want to say "you go girl" your spirit and attitude will help you kick cancer's ass. And crying, cry cry cry, it is cathartic and gets many toxins out of you. I know all this because I am a cancer ass kicker from childood - I think I posted that once here before. I don't want to over comment and invade your space since we just "met". My thoughts and prayers are with you for all you are going through and for Nikki's passing as well.

Posted by: Michelle at April 15, 2006 06:21 PM

You are human, you are human, you are human! Everything you feel you deserve to feel (by that I mean even resentment and wishing you had a man, etc.) and it is normal to feel and why shouldn't you feel it? Why not?

Hugs to you. I hope you take Sharkey's advice. I really do.

Posted by: Philosophical Karen at April 15, 2006 09:37 PM

Wanted to give you a cool article. Skoop found this first, but it is appropriate for whatcha been sayin:

http://forums.go.com/abclocal/KTRK/thread?threadID=113115

"if he keeps playing, anything can happen." :)

Posted by: Sis#1 at April 15, 2006 10:50 PM

I came over from Blackbird and so didn't know what you had going on when I posted on your 4/18 post. I cannot begin to imagine what you're going through or how scary the inside of your head is right now, but please know that by talking about it in the open, honest way you do touches my soul, and the souls of others, in amazing ways. I thank you so much for sharing your fears, triumphs, and setbacks. You are truly an amazing woman. (It's okay to miss him, even if he did suck.)

Posted by: Jessica at April 19, 2006 12:10 AM