Once Again – and with CLARITY…

I have been told I didn’t come right out and say it so here goes.

I am having surgery on June 2nd, 2009 at 8AM to c-section and remove my potentially 10, large uterine fibroids via a procedure called a “myomectomy” (http://www.myomectomy.net – warning – NOT for the squeamish). It is a procedure that lasts anywhere from 4 – 5 hours and the recovery period for it is about 6 weeks. I will be in the hospital for 3 days from the 2nd under observation and then I will be discharged to my home where I will be on bed rest, essentially, for the remainder of the 6 weeks. I will not be able to lift anything, bend, climb or descend stairs, stretch, reach, exercise, dance or anything strenuous until after the incisions through my abdomen and my uterine wall have healed. As per a previous post, my abdomen / stomach area is extended to that of a woman who is 5 months pregnant, so despite the bikini incision, I’m very excited to know what my body will look like when this is all said and done.

My doctor is Dr. George Kofinas of the Kofinas Fertility Institute out of New York Methodist Hospital in Park Slope Brooklyn (http://www.kofinasfertility.com). Without ever being operated on by him before, I feel that he’s a great, confident doctor. He’s been in the business of repairing wombs and getting women pregnant for a very long time. He’s been in the New York Magazine’s list of Best Doctors for 6 years and counting. If you make an appointment to see him for 3 o’clock, you will be waiting to see him till 5… but it will be worth the wait and his waiting room is filled with anxious new patients, old patients who are back for round 2 with the fruits of round 1 running around the waiting room and it gives you hope. He’s an older Greek man with wonderful bedside manner who makes you feel like you might be his niece that he’s working on, speaking gently and with assurance. He has told me confidently that he will reconstruct my uterus: “It’ll be like brand new – I’m going to perform some plastic surgery on it!” and for my malfunctioning cyst / endometrium covered ovary he will “repair it and restore at least 70% functionality to it”. I am glad that I got the reference to see him and that I actually followed through. (THANK YOU, ALEX )

I am on medical leave from my job starting Monday, June 1st. So I will be working from home once I’m off the drugs that might have me woozy or hallucinating. Although I truly don’t want to be on those long at all if I can help it.

I am petrified because this is my first major surgery. I am hopeful because of all the amazing things that this will open the door for. I am excited because I have imagined and dreamed my days without discomfort, bloating, inability to evacuate, fibroids poking back up at me if I lay on my stomach to sleep (which used to be my favorite position). I am humbled at the thought of having a normal uterus again… and maybe… just maybe… being able to carry to full term… a healthy, happy, little bundle of joy OF MY OWN to celebrate and dote incessantly upon so I can stop feeling like the Wicked Witch of the West about everyone else’s joy.

There’s so much hope in my heart.

Prayer is all I need now.

*

Exhumed

It’s 3:45AM and I woke up from a dream that has me scared like a little child to go back to sleep. Used to be that if I was frightened by a nightmare… well into adulthood, I would run to my mother’s bedside, she would wrap me in her arms, place several thumb drawn crosses on my forehead as she whispered a little prayer for me to calm my nerves and make me know that God was watching over me and nothing in the dream could harm me.

What a horrible paradigm shift that it’s a dream of her that has me not wanting to go back to sleep.

In the dream, for a reason I can’t fully understand, we are funeralizing her… AGAIN. She died once, but she has died again in this dream. And we’ve rented a log cabin somewhere where everyone is coming to pay their respects. And I mean everyone. At least 3 times the occupants of her first funeral. But everything has been haphazardly thrown together and there is no elder family close to speak of – none of her brothers and sister… not my god mother… just me and Dominic. The whole time up to the actual funeralizing, I’ve been greeting and organizing the guests to the best of my ability and then my brother comes to me and says, “Whatever you do, DON’T look in the casket…. she looks TERRIBLE.” At this point we were positioned where looking at the casket was a view down towards the top of her head. And as I did exactly the opposite of what my brother advised, I saw from that angle the bottom rim of her nostril, looking reddish, like there was blood there. And that’s when I realized what was happening in the dream. Because I was so busy organizing and getting everyone else comfortable it hadn’t dawned on me that she had been exhumed from her burial for this “event”. Wearing the same pink dress but there was less of her now. The 8 months of decay had left less of her. And she was a frightful shadow of what we remembered. As I stared from that angle, my brother was trying to explain to me what happened… why she looked so bad. I asked where the funeral directors were and he said that the only person we could talk to was the log cabin director. He started saying “We understood one version of her wishes and they had their own interpretation,” when my mother began to move in the casket. Not just shift around a little… full on reaching up and stretching from side to side as if she was trying to get up and out of the casket. And instead of us rejoicing that she was alive again, we freaked out and tried to find the first opportunity to close the casket so that to us on the outside, she would be dead again. I told Dominic to work on shutting the casket and I was going to track down the log cabin director. I ran up the hill to his residence and explained to him what happened… but he seemed less than concerned. So I ran back to the main cabin where we all were. All the while worrying about how we’ll catalog everyone who came so that we’ll be able to send thank you cards. When I got back to the cabin, Dominic met me at the door and said the casket won’t close…. “it’s stuck” he said. So I went over to it and said, “Did you use the crank?” and started to crank down the top part of the casket… that I realized, as I was cranking was NOT the very super expensive box we put her in, but a shell of a piece of shoddy wood that they must have replaced her in when we weren’t looking. I got the top piece down but for some reason her head was still exposed… as if all we had to do was shift her down into the casket and the problem would be solved… but the problem was… neither one of us could do it.

She was breathing now… consistently… but we were still trying to figure out how to get her back in the casket. We got some help from some of the other patrons to prop the casket up so that she was essentially “standing” hoping gravity would slide her down into the casket. But she wasn’t sliding down. As a matter of fact, now she was blinking and breathing and looking around. And her eyes locked on me and she began to speak. But this isn’t the mother I remember. This person was bewildering and frightening and very witch / ghost like. “I like it here” she began as she looked around. “I LIKE IT HERE….” and pushed her self up out of the casket and started to walk towards me. “I have my 4 children here… everyone is here for me… I LIKE IT, ” as a wicked grin took over her face and she backed me into what looked like a bathroom. My focus left her because a dove had apparantly made it into the cabin and was coming towards the bathroom and I was trying to shoo it away.. wave away with something… even bat at it… but it was relentless and once it made it into the bathroom, i looked down at my mother who was cackling now, full on like a witch.

And I woke up.

I’m so harrowed and haunted by this dream that no matter what comfort my husband gives me, I can’t go back to sleep. All I can do is keep coming to this end result that she’s really gone. There is truly nothing else I can do for her to help her stay alive or to make her passing less difficult. And no matter what I do, the memory of her returns to me in my dreams and is the most disturbing, unmother-like aberration of who she was to me. Why can’t I have peaceful dreams of her talking to and smiling at me like I did with Grandma? Why does her image come to me less and when it does, it’s a horrid painful image. I love my mother. I miss her TERRIBLY. Why is her memory haunting me?

And who is going to pray over me so that I’ll fall back asleep tonight?

*

Honeymoon to Cancun AKA the Swine Flu Dodge Adventures – Summation

Well, we’re on a flight from Houston to ATL (albeit late) and this is leg 2 of a 3 leg trip home. We’re experiencing a little turbulence so to keep me from freaking out, I decided to document some more. Our travels started this morning at 3 AM and won’t end until 8 PM tonight. But I’m excited to be stateside again. Happy to be going home. Feeling peaceful and happy, although a necklace I decided to wear on our spa day has given me a horrid eczema out break that makes me look like Tyrone Biggums when I try to scratch the itch. So I’ll have to get to a pharmacy post haste and get my hands on some lotrimin. In the last days we kept busy. There was no longer a focus to be out by the pool a) because I had tanned to the point of maybe irritation / peeling a little and b) the occupancy on the resort had tripled, so the choices of prime poolside venus had dwindled. We went kayaking, which was truly an experience and because we shared the double kayak, there are no pictures. But i’ll tell you – it was truly a test of the communication he and I have built with one another. If we couldn’t get it right? We would have ended up in the ocean. Seeing as though we’re flying home now, I would imagine we did the damned thing. We had to sit for a 90 minute “time share” presentation which was really a drag and having to say “no” that many times was truly testing. But the end result is that we had 3500 pesos to put towards the spa day at the end of it all. (Exchange rate is 12.50 pesos to 1 USD, so you figure the math out). The Spa day was fun. I am NOT allowed to post pictures of it (although I do have them), but I have been given permission to let you know that Earl got a manicure AND pedicure. And personally? I think they look great. He has awesome looking feet for a dude (most guys I know really let their feet go to hell) but his are nicely shaped and have no crazy problems like hammer toes or corns or bunions. And his hands are likewise. But he’d turn to me through out the experience and give a little “grunt” so as to re-affirm his very manliness as he got his nails buffed and treated. I got my manicure and pedicure as well. I tell you it’s feast or famine… NO pedis? Or 2 in as many weeks. The look great but I know that my pedicurist at home can go IN… so I can’t wait to see her. Our last dinner was delicious and entertaining (I’ll post video of that later). What we came to the realization of at this resort is that they would probably cook best what was indigenous to them – MEXICAN food!!! Because… The Japanese, Italian, and Californian food were… very interesting. Definitely not what we’re used to being so very spoiled by being New York and me priding myself on being a foodie. Their thoughts / conversions on what they considered “tempura” “cheese cake” “bagels” “linguini” and other staples that I KNOW how they should taste, really tested my perception. It wasn’t “bad” per se… but it was um… not really super duper. But the Mexican food? STELLAR!! (nah duy) The only thing they did that I really hated 100% of the time was that their shrimp was complete shrimp. I don’t want my food looking at me. It was complete with head, eyes, legs… the whole nine. Yuck. So I found myself asking and verifying everytime there was a shrimp dish if it was a full shrimp with head and eyes or if it was baby shrimp, already shelled and suitable for my consumption.

Being back stateside, it’s crazy the transformation that happens. When we were at the resort all week, phones were off and stowed away in our drawers and all the conversation, interaction and distraction we had was each other. I did dread it at first. I thought we’d get bored and be miserable for some days. But we proved to be all the entertainment the other one needed. All the entertainment, comfort, excitement, peace, confidence and partnership the other needed. We didn’t fight not once (not that it’s a regular occurrence), but we didn’t disagree or have any tiffs at all. There was indeed a perfect synergy. I told him a few times that I felt terribly selfish. I liked it a lot when it was just us. And to that he would smile, sweep me up in his arms and kiss me. It was extremely fairytale like. But we got stateside and it was more back to our old ways… which aren’t bad, but I guess I didn’t expect them so soon. We were working through problems being thrown at us by the airlines, cellphones came into play again and there was this…presence between us that was familiar but not like in Mexico. E says this trip is a springboard into the new us… the new and improved relationship that we are beginning anew. I like where the springboard has propelled us to…I just hope that what we had last week can’t only be sustained in Mexico

Honeymoon to Cancun AKA the Swine Flu Dodge Adventures – Days 2, 3 & 4

Days 2, 3, and 4

Yep – it’s been like that!!! Just WONDERFUL that I’ve not even had a chance to say anything to anyone or type up a little narrative. The time here has slowed to a halt. There is more than enough time to do everything. Sleep to our hearts content, wake up EARLY, go and work out, come back to the room, shower, change, have breakfast, get to pool side and lounge for hours at a time while they bring us fresh drinks all the while. Come back upstairs, shower, lounge, watch tv, check email, take a nap. Wake up, get gussied for lunch / dinner or order room service. Truly. Glorious. The sun has been non stop. And when it did rain, we didn’t care or weren’t in it. We’re both dreading coming back a bit. Beyond it being SUPER easy living, waited on hand and foot… anything we want being a phone call away and then just a few minutes wait. Just the synergy. The pure us-ness. The millions of private jokes we’ll take away from this place. How much closer we really managed to get in just 4 of the 5 days and how much closeness awaits. Rediscovering why we got married and surprising our selves with how long we’ve been together when other people on the complex who got married a week ago act less loving.

Of course the trip is not without it’s downfalls – but none so big that we’d focus on them at all. For the sake of documentation, I want you all to know that racism is alive and well LOL!!! Most of the folks here are definitely of the 2520 denominiation and mostly from the deep south (Louisiana, Texas… lots of Texas…). We’ve gotten plenty of sideways glances. One woman, faced with the thought of having to share a pathway with us (walking towards us) damned near ended up in the grass just so she could avoid whatever it was she thought Earl was going to do to her. Conversely there are plenty of nice folks here that are willing to start a conversation at the drop of a dime. It hurts my stomach to think that our presence would “ruin” some of these folks’ time… because them being here makes me feel likewise if that’s the case. We had a few snags with the bank, because obviously, our banks like to be notified when we’re going out of the country. So if purchases are attempted w/o said notification, they just freeze the shit up. But we got past that as well. Just wish we didn’t spend our whole first day worrying. That was one day we could have been living it up . We had a very small problem with some small black jumping bugs (not bed bugs thankfully) that enjoyed our ceiling very much the first full day and a little lizard that enjoyed our closet on the last day. However, Big Brother Terminex was IN EFFECT! Saving me and my sensitivities from any kind of bug that would enter a 3 yard radius of me. And there really weren’t that many, surprisingly for a tropic location.

I got the tan I’d hoped for (well, I’d have LOVED if it was darker, but I think I may be on the brink of burning, so I’ll give it a rest) – but I’m CERTAINLY NOT the same color as I was when I left; Incredible peace of mind knowing that all things at work were buttoned up and taken care of (even though Maxwell came to the station on the 21st… PHOOOEY, but I’ll catch him some other time…) Thoughts of mommy and daddy came and went and I actually smiled and talked them over with E.

Things have been…. Perfect. * sigh *

We’re going to our honeymoon dinner now… don’t be mad if I don’t write again till we’re stateside

Honeymoon to Cancun AKA the Swine Flu Dodge Adventures – Day 1

Honeymoon to Cancun
AKA the Swine Flu Dodge Adventures

Day 1: Back in Time

Well, I’m typing on our non stop flight from Atlanta to Cancun right now. Although we never actually booked a flight of this nature, here we are.

Preparing for the trip started all day yesterday. I went to all the final doctors appointments so that I could be green lighted for my surgery on the 2nd. I was likened to a pin cushion as 2 different facilities drained me of what little blood my anemic body is capable of producing these days. Then, I went and got the best pedicure I could get for the minimal amount of money I could find (so I could keep some dollars on me in the ‘Cun). Went to my old spot from back in the days that I’ve grown out of because I’m bourgified and older and feel that if I have the dough, I should spend and get exactly what I want. But since we’re in a recession and I did put all my pennies from my jar into this trip, that extravagance couldn’t be indulged. Got home and the hubby had graciously re-washed my already clean laundry (damn it smells good!) and the packing commenced. We fell out on the couch about 10PM and then woke up again at 1:00 AM to finish the process. E cleaned out the kitchen of all garbage and potential spoilables so that we wouldn’t come home to horribleness and I finished packing, making sure all my liquids were TSA compliant and showered to prepare for the trip. At 4 AM we drove out to his frat brother Wil who has graciously agreed to watch our cars (good week for it too, with the Asencion giving no alt side for Thursday, we’re able to just leave my car right where it is). And we drove out to LaGuardia Airport. We had 3 flights booked. One on AirTran from NY to Atlanta. Then continuing flights on Delta courtesy of Continental deciding it wanted to switch our flights around – one flight from ATL to Houston and then the final leg from Houston to Cancun..

We made the first flight alright, although it was a PACKED flight and I was sandwiched between the hubby and a man twice his size who didn’t really believe in soap or deoderant. * my poor nose * Luckily, we were still so tired we slept for most of that flight which was uneventful. The next leg is what was worrying me. I knew we would touch down at 8:25 and that our connecting flight was at 8:54. Airlines never play that show up to the gate 5 minutes before takeoff shit anymore. It was great for a few cute movies but in real life? If you’re not at the gate 30 minutes before take off, you better have a very convincing song and dance. Well, we did touch down at 8:25, on the dot. But in row 29… with a whole bunch of slow assed people who stored their luggage all up and down the length of the plane. After must hemming and hawing behind slow behind stupid people, we made it to the connecting gate 20 minutes before takeoff!! Pretty good, huh?

Not so much.

The flight was closed AND booked SOLID. There was no getting on it or the next 3 flights to Houston to make our connecting flight to Cancun. I queried her if there were any flights directly from ATL to Cancun. She let us know of one at 10:55 that had available seats but stated with assurance ‘”I don’t think they’ll let you go on a direct flight.” In my mind I’m thinking, I don’t see why they shouldn’t – it’s their fault we didn’t have our first round of flights to begin with. After going to FOUR different gates (at Hartsfield… now you KNOW we was hoofin’) and finally getting to the gate where this mystical elusive 10:55 direct flight was leaving from, we met up with our angels for the day. The gate attendants who didn’t see why we COULDN’T be redirected. They went and typed in their little codes and Taaaa daaaaa…. here we are soaring above what looks to be like Texas… although I’m sure we’re not that far yet.

We’re on a 757 that looks like it has just about 35 – 40 rows of 6 chairs each and there are maybe 50 people on the plane. I turned to E earlier and said… this is feeling like a horror movie… a little. You know… where the white folks typically say … “Hey look! A haunted house!! looks like fun… let’s go…” and the black folks be like, “Um… hell naw – we goin’ home… text us later.” We are one of 2 black couples on this flight. The rest? 2520s. And let me tell you RIGHT EFFIN NOW… all them damned precautions they’re talking about? “cough into your sleeve” “cover your mouth with a tissue if you sneeze” “don’t fucking fly if you’re sick”? To the winds they have gone with this batch of folk. They are the coughinest, no mouth coverin-est, smelly spray sneeze havin, don’t give a damn who they get sick group of people. I am covering my nose with my teeshirt and praying for salvation. We are now over the water somewhere… maybe over the gulf of Mexico looking at low clouds that are little spurs and puffs of cotton over the sea. I can’t wait to get to the final destination and get a little sun.

Strangely the other thing rolling through my mind…

When we’re growing up in this society, we always point up whenever “Heaven” is referenced. Ageless paintings make nirvana a home in celestial scenery. The immediate thought when one says heaven is the sky. Angels flying about, God sitting on a throne of clouds. But that particular concept is shattered for most kids when they fly the first time. For me, the excitement was in learning that even if it’s shitty on the ground with rain or snow or greyness, once you break above the clouds it’s ALWAYS a gorgeous day. But it makes it harder to grasp where the energy we knew to be our loved ones who have passed on might have gone. It’s not in the sky… might not be on this planet… somewhere in the vast reaches of the universe, the energy that was once my granny… my daddy… my mommy… is repurposed and seemingly unreachable. I’ve always said the worst part of all of this is that there’s no forwarding address for those who have ascended. At least if I had a phone number… or an email address… it wouldn’t feel so impossible to wrap my mind around where they are…. what happens to us when we die… how real everything is that we’re doing here in this form if we just all go away without explanation… What’s the purpose…