Da Goddess

Several days ago I got a call. It was a call I did not want to receive. And yet, it happened anyway.

My friend, JBJ, passed away. She’d been battling cancer for a long while, but it was the kind of cancer that could be treated and conquered. Then, it wasn’t. The doctors had found caner in her lungs. The terminal kind. She wasn’t home long after that diagnosis before she lost her fight.

It hurts. It hurts me to think of the pain she was in, the hopes she had, the children she loved so much, and how much her presence will be missed in the community at large. She was one of those people. You know, the kind who light up a room the minute they walk in. The kind who make you feel you are the luckiest person in the world to know them. The kind who give so generously of themselves and make the world a better place.

And now we must go on without her.

JBJ, we miss you. We promise to never let your boys flounder in your absence. We promise to be the kind of people you always believed us to be. And we will always hold you in hearts with love and respect. Rest well. You deserve it, honey.

Celia’s doing so much better these days, but her recovery has led to another, unanticipated problem: she’s begging for food ALL. THE. TIME. Walking into the kitchen to get some water? She’s there, begging, “feeeed me! Feeeeeeeed me!” Walking by the kitchen? “Feeeeeed me! FEEEEEED MEEEE!” Five minutes after she’s finished eating? “Feeeeeeed me, Seymour! FEED! ME! NOW!” It’s become almost comical. Except it gets very loud at times. On the other hand, it’s a greater alternative to her not eating and slowly dying. So, all things considered, it’s a good thing.

My mom’s doing very since her T.I.A.s. She left the rehab center just a few days after she got there and has since been told she’s fine and needs no further follow-up as far as occupational or physical therapy. YAY! It’s so nice to get good news for a change, you know?

Sadly, my dad is having a rough go of it lately. He just lost a close friend to that fucking bastard cancer. He was younger than my dad and that has made it even worse. This comes on the heels of him losing another friend quite recently. It’s been a lot for Dad to deal with. I understand how tough it is for him to see his circle of friends grow smaller. Suddenly, the people who know and understand you are no longer there. Where does that leave you? I hate to think of him being so lonely. I hate to think of anyone being that lonely.

Mojo and her husband are doing well up in Alaska. They went to interview cats over the weekend as their darling little trouble maker needs a friend. No word yet on the outcome.

Spent Father’s Day with King Arthur’s family down in San Clemente. It was so much cooler down there than it has been up where we live. Reminded me of when I used to live there back in the day and reminded me of why I love the beach so much. KA’s family is a truly lovely clan. I really enjoy spending time with them.

I hope all of you had a wonderful Father’s Day and head into yet another work week with a light heart and kindness for those around you.

It’s been a fairly shitty couple of weeks around here.

We said goodbye to my darling Mojo and have been dealing with her absence, fretting about the drive. She arrived in Alaska safely and we all breathed a sigh of relief.

I ended up in the emergency department twice in one day for my back. Spent much of the next six days fighting back tears because I hurt so damn bad 24/7.I’m only now getting to a semi-comfortable place.

Then I get word that a friend’s cancer has spread and gone from survivable to inoperable and terminal. That was after finding out two other friends are battling cancer, too. It’s heavy on the heart, y’know?

Celia had to be rushed to the vet on Thursday as she had stopped eating, drinking, using the litterbox, and went into hiding. Her ears had bubbled up, as had part of her nose and a paw. Luckily, we found a new vet who said it was likely a food allergy, treated her with steroids and antibiotics (secondary infection from open wounds), and sent her home with us. Once home, we closed off the rest of the house so we could get to her and, lo and behold! She ate. And she started acting like our little princess again.

Of course, all that was manageable…and then I get The Call. My sister called to say my mom was in the hospital after having what they thought was a stroke. Now they say it was likely a T.I.A. or two. Her left arm, hand, leg, and foot are weak and she’s complaining that there’s some weakness on the right as well. At this point, I simply lifted my eyes to the heavens and begged for all her pain and infirmaty to become mine. I don’t care that she’s 80! My mom deserves better.

And now here I sit…praying like there’s no tomorrow.

If there’s another shoe or two? No, thanks. I have plenty. Besides, my feet have been swelling.