Phew, that's over with!

I had my birthday and deliberately made it LOW KEY.  I didn't want to feel like crying in public, so I organized a brunch, hung at the pool, and then a low key movie and dinner out.

I MADE it through!

And, now, 3 weeks later, I've finally arrived at a Sunday and I don't feel like a total sack of sadness.

I have this to-do list, and it's major major major stuff.  Like, my phone isn't working--so maybe get a new one?  My Prius headlight isn't working--so get that repaired?  I need to find and go to the dentist.  I need to take and pass my drivers license test.  I need to get a bike rack on my new-to-me used bike.  I need to find a job.  I need to re-hang my big ass tv. I need to hang pictures and finish unpacking. I need to meditate. I need to socialize more or less, depending on the time of day.  I need to sleep better. I need to workout. I need to get Pickle to the cardiologist or she might die.  I need to start sending more postcards and birthday cards. I need to register to vote. I need to do my budget. I need to find a job. I need to write more, read more, watch tv more.

And, I'm heading home to Elyria in a few weeks to chip in with the process of cleaning out my mother's stuff.  So, that's sort of like a great big lurking shadow.

So, this is all weighing on my brain.  Spiraling when I get anxious.  I have to-do lists in every room of my apartment.

But, then, this week, I went to the oncologist with Andy.  He's been dealing with his own cancer diagnosis, and for the most part, I've been with him at the surgery, and all the appointments except one meeting.  This was the first meeting with an oncologist (as opposed to the urologist), so we walked into a hematology/oncology service.  There were directional sign stickers on the floor, and we both laughed and stood exactly where it told us to.  I love following directions!  And then, in comes an older gentleman, on a cane, with his younger cancer companion (I assumed it was his daughter).  She had a boot cast, and the two of them were hot and bothered from the heat, and I told them they were a matched set (he on cane, her on boot).

And then, I remembered going to my mom's chemo appointment (I only went to one, she had 12) and how friendly she was, and how she'd be kind, nice, and put on her big smile.  And I thought of everyone around me, including my dear, sweetest, like a brother to me best friend Andy, and how it was sad, and some of these people won't make it, and maybe, like my mom, they'll beat the cancer but the treatment will kill them.  And I decided not to cry, but to yuck it up with Andy.

We got in the room with the doc, and discussed his diagnosis (I took notes and typed them up later like a good little student!) and I was fine, even though I kept thinking of my mom's oncologist.  But, Andy and I, being midwestern, kept on smiling and asking questions and he has 3 options for treatment.  One is wait and watch, one is a surgery and a third is chemo.  Well, the doctor goes on to describe the chemo and it's FUCKING one of the drugs that my mom took, and in my mind, is like the bullet that killed her.

So, I did put on a smile, and I did burst into tears and I grabbed Andy's hand, and I said to myself "This is not about you.  This is for Andy".  So, I pulled my shit together, and celebrated that he was going to be ok.  We mostly knew this, but he will be OKAY and the Keto diet isn't an effective treatment for his condition. This is all REALLY good news for Andy and John!

And I walked home and typed up the oncologist notes and did additional research to find other sources,  like a good girl, sent it off to Andy and took a nap.

All of this to say, I think I've been tempered by some kind of fire this week--I am DETERMINED!  I went to an Oncologist!  I did my first training gig in months, and I LOVED it.  Then, I did a sketch show on Saturday night--my first show in LA, and it was amazing to play to half a house in a small tiny theatre with 10 more people on stage than need to be!

And today, Sunday, I woke up and decided:  I have to do the headlights.  My friends Matt and Bart were very encouraging, as they had undertaken this task on a Prius in the past--and convinced me I could do it.  I had bought the parts, and was mostly counting on Bart ending up doing the job as he and I were scheduled to hang today.   But, the hang fell apart, so AFTER watching a million YouTube videos, I went to try.

I got the electric panel thing out, after twisting and tugging.  And then, I had access to the headlight casing.  But that mother fucking cover would NOT budge.

I tried to smile at it, and just got so MAD.

I took a walk and put on my most patient attitude.

I re-watched videos.  I joined PriusChat group and read a solution (Blow hot air on the casting).

I ate, as maybe I'm hungry and sad.  Mad/sad?

And now, I'm writing this blog.  And trying to think if there's an outlet in my building's garage...and do I have an extension cord not in current usage?

And I'm going to get this done, and NOT go to the Hybrid Shop.  But that mother fucker will not turn.

And I've assembled furniture, hung fencing, installed cable, put together my retro table after screws were stripped, hung artwork, etc.

But this STUPID car!  And that STUPID cancer!

But, as I quietly sip my diet coke, and watch Pickle make a nest on her bed, and make plans with my gal pals in the building, and listen to the fan, and eat my leftovers, and breathe in air and breathe out air and my CO2 exchange works, I think, in all honesty, I'm lucky to be alive. I'm lucky my parts work (mostly) and that I can hit my stepcount on my fitbit and that I get to see my family in a few weeks and no matter what, I'll get this headlight fixed.

Because if I am making it through the hardest thing of my life, my mother's death, I can either fix this, or pay a man to fix it for me.

And that's how today feels.  Empowered, determined, lucky and maybe I'll even lay out a bit later.

I MADE it through my birthday and Andy's cancer appointment and my first training and a sketch show and I am making it through this grief.

Watch out PRIUS!