Hand to Mouth Disease

I just ate too many cookies.

What is up with nurses? Why is eating a national pasttime? One of my favorite staff members (i.e. pro-breastfeeding and family centered care) is relocating to Boston next week. Every single night there has been a potluck in her honor. We have a potluck for just about any reason; birthdays, births, deaths, retirements, new hairdos, you name it. We eat.

Shouldn't health care workers be healthy?

I think I gained a baby on my ass this week.

Gratitude

So there is no more hope. There are only memories, memories of teal and beauty, of wide eyes and laughter, of a path meant to be walked together and now not, of instantaneous friendship and connection, of hand holding and massaging, of tears and of tears. And now more tears.

Tomorrow is my wedding anniversary. Seven years, not always easy, better for what was hard, thankful for all.

Gratitude for all our time and blessings from the universe.

Hope

Now that I work at the hospital, I see life on a daily basis. I don't get to witness birth anymore, per se, but I am a part of the melding of individuals into a family. I feel really thankful to have a job I love, one that fills my cup and reminds me that there is good to be done and sometimes I get to be a part of doing it.

These last two weeks I have been even happier to come here, and it's not just because of the air conditioning, though that doesn't hurt. In January I blogged about a friend getting cancer. Now it's August, and we are waiting for her to die.

It's kind of like being in purgatory. We can't really live joyously, freely, because we know her moment is moments away. And yet you never wish someone to die, but I think sometimes I feel like I am so ready to rid myself of the knot in my stomach and start mourning. I want to cry, sob, heave for myself and my loss of a friend, for her beautiful husband and child, for her mother and father and sister and brothers and for all the people she has touched with her grace in her life who will now have to know a world without her.

When I last saw her I very much had the sense that she had one foot in this world and one foot in the next, whatever that looks like. She said she was not scared, that she was ready to leave the pain behind and see what the next life has to offer. I wouldn't feel ready if she didn't.

Back in April my friend blogged about Hawaii, I think, and she made mention of palliative care. A mutual friend of ours who is a med student was so distraut because she new palliative care was the beginning of the end. After I talked to her I spent days in a depression about the idea of losing my friend.

I went to the beach for the weekend and I came back decided that if Julie had hope, who was I to say she was wrong? And I held out hope until the end, really I did. And now I have a new hope, a hope for an easy transition, a hope for peace, and hope that I can keep doing what I do so I can get life along with death.

Still Sweaty After All These Years

The irony of it all.

The last time I blogged was in January where i wrote about sweaty gym guy. Have not looked at the blog since then. Today the guy on the mat behind me moaned, and finally farted, all the way through a pilates class.

At least I go to the gym.

Sweat equity?

In keeping with my gym going yesterday, after I lovingly devoured the inauguration coverage this morning I went to the gym. I told myself I was going to get in 3 miles on the treadmill, with no stringency as to whether they were walked or ran. I made it to 1.75 and then someone got on the treadmill next to me. And then he started sweating. And then said sweat was flying all over the place. I could see little beads of nastiness all over the bottom of my machine.

And then some got on my face. And then I threw up in my mouth. And then I ran home and took the hottest shower of my life.

eeeew.

Yoga Soup

I went to yoga today. Going to this particular class is kind of like going to Spain. You took all those years of Spanish and yet you have no idea what a single person in the whole country is saying. I have been practicing yoga on and off for 10 years and when I go to Willow-with-the-ridiculously-amazing-body's class I feel like I can hardly even get into downward dog.

But I do it and it feels good. I try not to stare at my stomach in the mirror. I swear they tell you to close your eyes so you don't obsess about yourself. I did pretty good today. And I ran my first mile since I hurt my ankle back in June. At the end of the class they throw this magic dust around that makes you able to pass out on a cold floor after your class. I have chronic insomnia but I can always zen out after a yoga class. Queer.

When I was at the height of my relaxation I awoke to the loudspeaker. "The kids club is now closed. Please come pick up your children." Oops.

I walked in pissy and I left happy. I ate soup. Today is alright.

The Storm Before the Calm

Another one of my friends has cancer. It pisses me off that at 34 I am watching my third friend under 40 go through this. This newest trooper is just lovely, too. She has a daughter in my daughter's class. She does yoga and drinks tea. She's nice and pretty and kind and deserves something else. Cancer is one of those bastard things that messes with your feelings of comfort in the world. It's easy to say "everything happens for a reason" with the mild crappy things that happen, like losing a job or a boyfriend. It's hard to see the future now, but something better will come along that will make this all make sense.

Nothing makes cancer make sense.

In Judaism you are relieved of your religious obligations during the period of mourning between death and burial. It's almost like God realizes he's kind of screwed you over, so you are given an opt-out so you don't desert your belief systems all together. It's called Aninut-the storm before the calm. The storm is all the anger and sadness, and the calm is acceptance of a greater good. I don't look for calm, really, just a way to understand why these things happen. Because really, there's no reason. There's no justice in cancer or in Huntington's disease or car accidents or losing your parents or your children. It just plain old sucks.

Two years ago a different friend with a daughter in my daughter's class had a double mastectomy and bunches of chemo after a breast cancer diagnosis. I saw her last week with a full head of hair and lipstick and fancy earrings. I hope two years from now I see new friend with a full head of hair and a smile but probably not big earrings and red lipstick. It's just not her way.