I'm off to DC tomorrow, so I wanted to write a quickie. You like quickies, don't you?! WINK!!
It was so nice and WARM today---mid 50's!! Holy CRAP it must be spring!! But WAIT, it's supposed to SNOW AGAIN on Monday. This weather is whack. I'm so ready to move on from winter. I want to landscape. I want to plant flowers and all that home stuff. I hope spring comes soon and STAYS awhile. By the way, "Stay Awhile" is one of my all time favorite songs.
My mom just got diagnosed with diabetes. I told her she has one week to feel sorry for herself, then I don't want to hear it. She's like, "Wow that's kinda mean…" I said, "Look woman, you are 65 years old. You got through your WHOLE LIFE without it, but when I was diagnosed with it, I was only THIRTY EIGHT. So, feel sorry all you want and cry all about it for a week, but after that, it's time to get on with things and readjust your life."
I love my mom, but tough love is the only way to get through to her. She's stubborn as hell. But so far, she's taken what I said to heart, and she seems to be adjusting better than I did. I remember when I was told by the Russian woman doctor, "You just shaved off 10 years of your life," I was so angry I wanted to beat her face in. I mean, what the hell kind of "bedside manner" was THAT?! Shaved 10 years off my life, THANKS lady, kiss my fat ass. I was determined to prove the hag totally wrong at that point.
I went home crying, of course, feeling all creepy crawly, DISEASED, like I had bugs crawling all inside me, and suddenly I felt like damaged goods and my life was over. I was gonna die, at 38, because I liked donuts. What a farce of a life.
I had those moments of feeling sorry for myself. Then I started reading about how little KIDS have to deal with diabetes, and THEY sometimes die way BEFORE reaching the age of 38. It humbled me. It told me that things could always be worse, and I should just suck it up and deal with it.
So, I didn't eat anything for 3 days.
I was too afraid of food. I didn't know what I could eat, what I couldn't eat, so I just didn't eat. Everything looked like a bowl of sugar. It all had a "poison" skull on it, through my eyes. This "food" I've been eating is actually POISON and will KILL me.
Most women probably would have been on their way to anorexia at that point, but not me, OHHH no. Instead, I had to visit a nutritionist, who basically sounded like the adult voice on Charlie Brown cartoons. You know, that trombone drone?! "WAOH WA, WOOW WAOW WA…" Just eat SMALLER PORTIONS she said. Only have 2 ounces of meat per meal, which is the same size as your fist. (I was thinking, "Hmmm, so Hulk Hogan has a whole PIG for dinner then?!") I mean, how the hell can she say that to people, when we all have different sized fists?!
Made no sense to me. "Eat lots of vegetables." Sure, all I can have NOW is friggin' SALAD every day of my life. BORING!! "You can have a banana, but not a WHOLE one, just eat a HALF." (Yeah, right, and the OTHER half sits on the counter turning brown and attracting fruit flies. Wasting money. Great). "No more orange juice. No more pasta. No more bread. Stay away from carbs. If it TASTES good, you can't have it."
I mean, what a crock of shit!! I hated that nutritionist skinny bag of hot air. I really did.
And get this, she explained that the diabetic medication I had to take for the rest of my life actually MAKES YOU EAT MORE, but at the same time, you gotta try and LOSE WEIGHT!! Oh, PLUS you have to have FIVE meals a day!! FIVE!! Three regular meals, and two smaller snacks. Great. How the hell can anybody lose weight when they have to eat MORE food?!
It was like being set up to fail, and frankly I worked for the federal government at the time and I knew all about how that little song and dance was played out on a daily basis. That's all they do, all day, every day, they set each other up to fall, or throw each other under the bus, pass the buck, or just try and get away with as much NON work as they possibly can and then BLAME the other guy for not getting THEIR job done. Being set up to fail was just another day in DC.
So I decided, even after talking to the nutritionist, that I'm gonna die anyway, so fuck it, I'm going to eat whatever the hell I want to eat----in moderation. Sure, I'll eat 5 meals a day, dammit, and I'll rock it out and live longer than that fat Russian doctor telling ME I shaved off 10 years of my life. So nyahhhh.
I told my mom all this. I think it helped her. I hope it helped her, at least. I'm not so sure I could call that a "pep talk," but it's the best I could do on such short notice.
But here's the kicker for my mom….she also has to quit smoking. Now, keep in mind that my mother, who is now 65, has been smoking since the age of NINE. Yep. Trying to QUIT a life long habit like that is NOT an easy thing. She has done it many times during her life, sure, but always ended up going right back to it. Now, she has the patches from the doctor, who told her that she is a "metabolic risk." She asked what that meant, and he said, "I'll see you back in the ER in less than 5 years with a massive heart attack, guaranteed." She was a little freaked out, to say the least. She has high blood pressure, and now diabetes, so she's a major risk for heart disease.
I can't nag her about it though. She'd kick my ass. So I just shake my head, or purse my lips when she lights one up, and she says little things like, "I know I know," or "shut up." She finally said, "Look, I know I have to do it, but let me do it in my own way, in my own time." And that is that.
Bleah. I hate being diseased. It sucks. I don't know if you felt similar things when you had that cancerous mole on your face or not, but I can't even imagine my own reaction if that ever happened to me. I've already told the doctor to just cut both of my boobs OFF right now, to AVOID breast cancer altogether. The way my damned right shoulder feels, (I think I have bursitis), I told my chiropractor to just amputate the damned thing once and for all. Seriously. Any part of me that is diseased, I am all for getting rid of. The trouble with diabetes, however, is that it's in your BLOOD. What a pile of shit. Can't really cut THAT off. Ain't that a crock?! I mean, how UNFAIR!! And having high blood pressure too, I've really been ripped off in life man.
You couldn't really have them cut your face off, either. Sure, a little mole, no problem, that can be totally cut off….but it could have been worse----and THEN what? Don't you EVER cut that sexy SHNOZ of yours off, you hear me?! You got lucky dude. I am very glad that you did, but how many more bullets can we dodge before we croak?! It sucks getting old.
All I know is, I don't have any "bucket list" issues driving me crazy, I've met Miep Gies and had a 15 year friendship with her, I've had a handshake with Steven Spielberg, I talked to Elie Weisel, I've met Muhammad Ali, David Arquette, Jack Klugman, Gene Hackman, Connie Stevens, and several other famous people….not to mention the comic con celebrities. I have even met YOU twice, and every member of Journey 3 or 4 times.
I'm good. I really cannot complain about my life, nor do I have any major urge to sky dive or hang glide or bungee jump. I just wish I didn't have diabetes. I wish my mom didn't either.
Anyway, so those are my thoughts tonight. I sold two more hats with Pittsburgh Pirates stuff on it, so that's cool. I made 4 enchanted fairy garden hats for a baby shower, and everybody loved them. I just recently made THIS hat too….just for the hell of it…..can you guess what it is?!
Take a close look…..hmmmm…..there is a big chicken, and 3 smaller chickens on some music notes. And hey, the top and lace around it all is blue.
Chicken…..chord….on blue. BA DUM TISH!!!
Well, on that "note," I am going to hit the hay. Have a great weekend my friend. Love you lots. Thanks for letting me vent about being damaged goods. (Aren't we all)?!
Love, Rebecca
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