Can't tell goats milk from cows milk

I went on vacation. Yes, me! I haven't had a real vacation in probably 30 years and it was stress relieving and fun, fun, fun. My darling friend Nina arranged and paid for everything. And was the best companion ever. We get along like bread and butter (she's the butter, she eats keto). I only had to buy my food and good food it was, flavor enhanced by many cocktails. We went to Bend, Oregon for 4 days and stayed at the most beautiful airbnb. We had a house and an amazing view all to ourselves. The owners have a beautiful house a small distance away, but we never saw them, except to be greeted by the husband (a sweetheart) and lavished with kisses and tennis balls from their 2 very friendly dogs. We both love dogs so that was an added bonus.

I've never been to Bend. It's high desert so lots of Juniper trees and tumble weed and sage. I now love that environment. Bend is a small town, but very hip (we're not) but it was fun to walk and eat and drink and we did plenty of all three. Nina is incredible. She is a GPS genius. I probably couldn't have even gotten us there, but she navigated all over foreign terrain, finding us fun little places to go, one of which was a hands on dairy farm run by a young couple with 11 children, 6 of whom have been adopted from Uganda. Beautiful kids and great cow milkers, swift and smooth and confident. We herded chickens, yes, sometimes chickens need herding and Nina milked a cow while I milked a goat...poor little goat. We had a blind test drinking cow/goat milk and little miss know-it-all, bragging about how she could easily tell one from the other (I use a lot of goat milk products), of course, picked them ass-backwards. I want to live on a farm now...no I don't, they milk at 7am and 7pm, sun-snow-rain and ice. I don't book appointments until after 11am because I get a stomach ache if I have to get up before 8am. And obviously it takes me two hours to get ready to do anything.

Letting go of stress to such a degree that my shoulders and neck finally freed up after years of tight tension was a huge relief. Of course it was back in about 2 days after getting home but that respite was wonderful and made me feel that I am still capable of "letting go", in more ways than one. Hope for the future.

The third surgery is scheduled for Sept. 9th. It will all finally be over with and I can get back to trying to live life in a normal fashion, like normal people do, of whom I know none. I'm not looking forward to the pain, obviously, but putting a chapter of my life behind me, that has consumed everything since last January, will feel so good. That's all I'm really focused on. 

After I spent two whole weeks trying to create a website on my own "it's so easy, you can do it, I did my own" I finally gave up and had to say that I am not as smart as all the people who - did it on their own - and am hiring a nice young Russian guy who touts "lots of experience" and charges a reasonable price to do it all for me. I found him on this site called Upworks. It locates tech's all over the country so you can find one near you and they have been vetted so I don't feel like I am getting a wannabe webmaster off of Craigslist. I'm probably not going to be able to do much with it until after the operation because I think I need to rephotograph a lot of my pieces and show them with some contrast so people get a better idea of how large they are. Photographing is not easy. So much setting up and arranging and carrying of heavy stuff so I will have to do it before my arms are out of commission.

I've been lamenting lately, like a big first world baby, that I live in a rented house and don't get to putter-decorate like I used to. It's a stress reliever for me and keeps the boredom at bay. I could always flip a room around and change things up because I had a ton of storage and a work shop that allowed me to hold onto more furniture than I needed and gave me the ability to repair/rebuild/reupholster, all of which I love to do. But living here without space for all of that often leaves me bored and anxious. I feel like I need to change things once in awhile in order to breathe better. I think most people are happy to find an arrangement and become settled with it but I'm not like that. My environment needs to float and I love the feeling of it always evolving. So I am ecstatic with my new find! I've been getting back to my Goodwill haunting and came across this Chinese red lacquered chest the other day which has found a new happy home in front of my couch.

                                                                                 

The knobs make me so happy. I'm sure they say something in Chinese but I will probably never know. It's not exactly the "double happiness" symbol but similar. The two center circles are working brass locks (sans keys - pout) but the drawers are huge for lots of storage. (I now see my carpet is totally off center. How did I do that?) The coup is that it cost $14.99. I had a credit for $8.99 because I bought a pair of pants that didn't fit - why don't I try things on first? AND it was senior day, yea, discount! So it wound up costing me $4.49!!!! Now that's some shoppin!

So anyway, I'm feeling pretty good right now. 94 days sober for my little darling daughter, a vacation and Summer doesn't feel like it is scittering by as fast as it usually does. The problems are quietly resting somewhere, I don't want to go looking for them, so hopefully they will stay that way for awhile. All I need to do now is find a good book.

                                                                             

   

Thinking of you.
Love
Liv

An update from the caregiver

I'm just checking in so that if anyone is out there and still remembers me, I will feel less invisible. That's the way caregivers feel sometimes. I am considering myself to be one these days. Not to be disrespectful to those who truly are and are astonishing in their fortitude and integrity. This is a different kind of caregiving.

My Thai roommate, I blogged about her last year, has moved on to her world travels. She's seen 30 countries and is doing 10 in this trip (why she  left) and is determined to do a total of 100. I didn't even know there were 100.... Google now tells me there are 195, I live such a shallow life.
Anyway, we had our ups and downs and even though she was 49, I wound up being her surrogate mom/sister/auntie/granny, I was the single shoulder in her life that she could count on and lean on. It was taxing. But I learned a lot about being a giver and not getting hung up in reciprocation, knowledge put to good use - if I want to stay sane.

Then there was the Idaho transplant. A very nice guy (I do not discriminate), 6"3"! who came here to find a job and leave the confines of Boise. I guess if you live there it seems like a small town. He was only here for two months because it is very hard to find a job around here unless you are looking in the tech industry. He was not. So in the end it turned out that he really just spent all his time locked in his room with his girlfriend - not necessarily a bad thing. However any time that she was gone, he was by my side looking for guidance and inspiration, I guess. He couldn't really cook, he brought a 20# bag of pinto beans with him.... so I helped him a bit with that. He was only 33 - it's understandable, sort of. Right? (eye roll) But both roommies took a lot of energy and patience, patience, patience.

Now he has gone back to Boise to his more reliable old job and the girlfriend is probably still sobbing. She was so sweet, really, but only 21 to his 33. They have a long way to go.

The next step, if I don't fall off the cliff, is that my beautiful daughter is moving back in. Since the suicide attempt, you'd have to go back a little ways to read that one, she has not been coping well. The adjustment to "normal" life has been extremely difficult for her. Lots and lots of anxiety and catastrophic thinking. The drinking is back, albeit in a much more controlled way and she is trying very hard with two days sober to one drinking, that seems to be the pattern now. But even though in the face of this stuff, I can tell you that the medication is still working - as much as possible. I have spent the last 11 months being her sole (soul) support and believe me, I adore her but my shoulders ache from the weight. And yes, I am very nervous. Financially this is the only solution for a lot of reasons - no need to go there. But can this be done? Will it be ok? Yet I walk on, go forward. Even if I get pulled back, I go forward.

So I feel like a caregiver, of a sort, and am acutely aware of what an invisible and unacknowledged job that can be. My heart gets ripped think of those who never have a break. At least in my life they go to work each day, thank God.

On the cancer front, well, it's just the boob front now (I hate that word) I am doing ok. I've had this saline implant in for about 2 months - my God! - and I have opted for another month before the operation to put the real implant in and reduce the other side, as an operation of that magnitude would obviously just be too much right now. The next surgery will be around the first week of May. May is my birthday month. I am turning 69, although I will not be using that number, so I will, out of necessity, have to stay 68 for the next year.

We've had a lot of sun and the camellia bush is blossoming heavenly pink, peony like flowers. I've grabbed as much quiet time in between the demands of these three that I possibly could and I've been able to spend some quality time with my friend, Nina. But I'm gaining weight. I've discovered Trader Joe's intense chocolate ice cream and I should be ashamed at the quantity I have consumed in the last two month. That will stop right here and now....I've run out.

So, will I be ok? Will it be ok? All of it? Any of it? -- Maybe.
But right here, right now, I am ok.

I'm only putting this in because it is stunningly beautiful. And I hope my breasts look that good when this is done.....ha!
                                                                              

                                                                                                     Irving Pen

And then there's this.                                            

I did some work-art-work ----- and a reveal

Hello friends  and lovers.

Thank you all for your kind and loving comments. I'm doing much, much better. The first surgery is done and now the temporary implant is in. It's just called an expander and is slowly filled with saline in order for the remaining skin to stretch. I'm going to show a picture of the initial operation at the bottom of this post, so consider yourself forewarned. If you are squeamish then look away before you get to the last photo. I will eliminate it in a couple of days because, well, it's a bit icky. But I think it is a good thing for people to see what actually happens to a woman when she is faced with a mastectomy. That's such a vague word, it really doesn't convey the impact. It's a medical term that distances. I think perhaps we should just say amputation. Now that I know what happens, I am shocked that there isn't more empathy and real understanding of this process. It is a complicated surgery involving 2 surgeons and months of healing. My heart goes out to all the women who go through this with little support or understanding. I've had great support, I'm a lucky one, from my daughter, my dear friend and my sister - which I desperately needed when I got home. You can not even lift yourself up from the bed to get to the loo.

Anyway, now there will be a second surgery in about mid March to reconstruct the amputated breast (yes, I'm going for an implant) and to redesign the other in order to give balance, otherwise I would be listing to the left for the rest of my life. Because this one will, obviously, involve both sides, the recovery time will be longer so I don't expect to be back to my regular slightly annoying self until mid April. I have become a very quiet and lazy person these last few weeks. I think it's due to the anesthesia and it's impact on the brain. And, fuck it all, I didn't lose one single pound!!


So now I'm going to show you two decoupaged Retablos that I did just before this all happened. Pretty damn sure I haven't done that yet, but things are still a bit foggy. They both represent strength and courage of women to look above and beyond the immediate and to compassionately guide humanity. But I don't hold fast and tight to any interpretation, even my own. So feel free to find your own.

                                                                               

                                                                                  

                                                                                 

                                                                                

This second on is done on a background of pages from a book called "The Life's of Women". I love that part of it. Something hidden that is only revealed on close inspection. There are lots of them in both pieces.




So now............................................................................the reveal.


                                                                               

You'd think I would be shy about this whole thing, but I'm not. It's just a body. We all have them. This is about a week after the surgery so the bruises are just about gone. The temporary implant is in and that is the bulge at the top and believe me, that sucker hurts. It feels like it has a metal rim that is pressing against your ribs, but it's only a soft plastic pouch. I have the good old phantom pain, it comes from a nerve that was cut and it keeps screaming "what the fuck!" all day, everyday. My plastic surgeon assures me that the big scar will go away after the next operation and there will eventually only be a faint white line. I don't really care. All I want is something that will make a shirt look normal, and no, I won't be showing the final product! I do have a limit.


Again, thank you all for your kind and caring words, you make my life so much richer.

Love
Liv

The River of Time

It is a river, isn't it? Floating along or caught in a snare. Metaphors on that one are endless.

I took some time off in March because of my illness. Sometimes blogging has been stressful to me. It proves that I am often times hard to understand. No need to expound on that, save to say that that is hard to carry. So being away was what was best for my health and peace of mind. And it helped. I recovered more quickly than I thought I could. Thank the powers for that, because what was waiting down the line was shattering.

On May 2nd my darling, beautiful, oh-so-smart, daughter made a very serious attempt to take her life. 60 blood pressure pills and at the last few minutes she thought of her good old mom and was able, in those short minutes, to dial 911. (Sidebar here folks, keep it on your speed dial, you just never know.) I have no way to adequately explain to you what it is like to read a 5 page suicide note. To hear suffering of that depth, which is easy to express in what one thinks are their last hours on earth, felt surreal. There is no holding back. It was so deep, so far down that hole, that I knew I was not going to be able to comfort her enough. I knew that no matter how long my arms were, they could not reach her. All that I could do was to show her that they were reaching down, knowing that she would have to do the rest. There was absolute numbness along with piercing sorrow for her.

I spent 6 days and nights with her in ICU watching her every reaction and every machine hooked to her. There was no brain or nerve damage, but they discovered that she has congenital heart disease.  There is no way to tell if it was the affect of the pills that damaged her heart or if it has been lingering there all along, which would make it even more miraculous that she survived.

There was a stint in the mental health ward at Kaiser and then straight to Rehab. Three trips to emergency, lock down and a lot of heart crushing screaming. Then another stint in the mental health ward.  To say she has been through hell...you would not want to see this kind of hell. What we've both learned over long, hard years is that our country does not have adequate training to really help alcoholics except to say, "will yourself not to drink and say your affirmations". AA just doesn't work for a lot of people, actually for the majority of people. If it did,  addiction in all it's guises would not be savaging our country.  So saying this was her third go at it can't even get close to how devastating and frustrating it is. Try, try and try again. What that insures is that suffering is going to be a constant road without a map. Some of the people going through this with her have been through it 9/10 times, one even 16. It's mind blowing. She finally got the help she needed from a 10 page letter to Kaiser assessing their program and telling them what she actually needed from them and how to really help her. Things changed immediately (this girl is gifted, she would make a phenomenal lawyer!). They brought in a psychiatrist just out of Boston University who literally saved her life. Kaiser does NOT want to be sued. Success can be possible, IF the knowledge of this young and brilliant man, and others, is respected and shared. He would not give up, just try to imagine how very rare that is.

Addiction is not a disease, it is not the result of weak character or a self indulgent nature. It is brain damage. I could expound on that, but not now.

She has now had 6 months of fairly effortless sobriety. I say effortless, because she isn't going mad with cravings, but it's still there...the desire, only now, controllable. Brain damage can only be treated with medication. We can't will brain damage away.  No amount of affirmations is going to heal the brain. Finding the right combination of medication is what her psychiatrist was committed to doing and he got it. There has been a bit of tweeking, but she's doing great and will start back to work in the next couple of weeks. Unaltered. How incredible is that? She is her same sassy, silly and brilliant self and I, well, I am a mom taking a long, relieving breath and getting back to work, too - with eyes wide open, ever vigilant. There are no cures, no miracles but there is hope.

Love, Liv