Sad Week

There's a photo-blog that's going around the internet where man documents his wife's (ultimately loosing) battle with breast cancer.  If you haven't seen it, you can find it here.  It's stunning.  The photography alone is beautiful but the emotions, the struggle, the pain and the sadness that so many cancer patients and their loved ones experience, it breaks your heart and it took my breath away.

In some ways the quiet, heart-wrenching sadness of this blog seems to sum up this past week at work for me. People tend to assume that my work is sad when actually that is more the exception than the rule, so I'm not sure why this week at work has felt so sad to me when nothing particularly sad has happened.  

I've started changing gears at work, moving from acute processes that are terrible and impossible to deny but fast, to more chronic processes like myelofibrosis and multiple myeloma that are just as terrible but slower, different.  The early stages of these chronic diseases can be a little ambiguous, patients overall feel fine and they can pretend that it isn't happening, that they aren't sick. I don't want to call it false hope but there's a hard reality that comes with chronic illness. I guess this week I learned how difficult it is to be the reminder of reality.  There's only so many times you can be asked "how long will I need this treatment" and wait for it to hit home when I have to say: until it stops working.  I know that I am far from the only person saying this. I'm often in the room when they hear it from their doctor, but I'm also the easiest person to get on the phone and the person with the time to say it over and over again.  As many times as they need to ask it, I will answer it. 

Over the past five years I've seen a lot and I've learned a lot.  I'm sure that  I'll learn how to do this too.  I'll learn how to do this and I'll even learn to find the honor in it.  This week though I'm still learning and I'm a little overwhelmed by the sadness. 

After a week like this I need a ticklish baby penguin named Cookie, and thanks to the miracle that is the internet, I have it!

 

http://youtu.be/Wz92ANMTR2M

 

 





You can't win if you don't play

As I’ve started to put the past 6 months down in writing,  I've started wondering: why in God’s name did I decide to venture into online dating again? Writing things down can make me overly introspective at times which is either an excellent reason to keep blogging, or a truly stunning argument for stopping all together.  Hindsight isn’t 20/20 unless you bother to look back over your shoulder though, so I’m going to go with the former and just keep on, keepin' on with this whole blogging business. Seriously though, I really started to wonder, what actually started all of this?   Then it came to me, one word: Stefan.  Stefan (pronounced Stef-an, not Stef-ahhn) was my  A&P 1 teacher this past summer, upon whom I developed The Biggest Crush.  (Don't worry Mom, I promise this isn't as questionable as it seems, keep reading. :)). 

I was a little bit nervous to go back to school las summer.  School in general doesn't make me nervous, but facing down the very same science classes that I so successfully avoided during undergrad and graduate school made my tummy do a little flip-flop.   So imagine my pleasure when on my first night of class, uncomfortably wedged into a right-handed desk I found that I was to be taught by my own personal version of a bad boy: an incredibly attractive, slightly nerdy and British. Yes please.  

So in order: physical attractiveness is one thing, and a great thing at that but all on its onesises it can get old pretty quick.  Add intelligence (I like 'em nerdy) and kindness and now you've caught my attention.  Add in a passion and love for teaching and well...do you like beavers?  Cause DAAAAAAMN.  (Sorry, I just had to do it.)  This was certainly not part of the plan when I registered but suddenly in addition to trying to memorize the whole of human anatomy in 8 weeks I also had to find time each night to alternate  between paying attention and mooning.  Life's rough huh? 

So when did I revert back to being a pre-adolescent girl you ask?  Probably about the same time that I stopped sleeping and started drinking Diet Coke and eating Sour Patch Kids for dinner on the reg. Seriously though, Stefan totally joined in on my Sour Patch Kid consumption most days before class. That's right, we bonded over sour chewy candies. Boom.  With such a solid basis upon which to place my confidence I decided that it was time to take a leap: I was going to ask Stefan out.   What? is that not a logical next step?!  Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?   He’d laugh in my face, call me fugly and walk away?  Well yes, that would be crushing, embarrassing and mortifying, but if fear of that worth never knowing if our Sour Straw QT was simply congeniality run amuck through a caffeine induced haze or a little bit more more?    Nope.  

So as the semester drew to a close I plotted my moment of probable humiliation.  How does one ask out their teacher after the end of the semester without coming across like a total crazy? Not possible.  So rather, how does one ask out their teacher after the end of the semester in a way that leaves some shot of success?   A work email takes a borderline inappropriate message and turns it seriously inappropriate and, if misconstrued could also potentially threaten his professional livelihood.  I wouldn’t take too kindly if someone did that to me even if they were as charming and delightful as I, and so this left Facebook.  Even in retrospect this makes me queasy. 

So, the day after grades were submitted I sat on my couch in my favorite sweatpants and lucky gator t-shirt staring at my computer, reminding myself that expressing interest in a person is a compliment which, even if unreciprocated, is generally still flattering and as such appreciated.  Anyone with manners can figure out how to reject you kindly via an email.  Right?  And please oh please oh please don’t let him call me fugly.  

So I did it.  I sent the darn message and asked my former teacher out to coffee or a drink.  Then walked to the bathroom and vomited.  Seriously, it was that bad.  Bad enough that I might put it down as one of the bravest things I’ve ever done.  I’d  generally rather risk bodily harm before rejection and yet I faced it down with the hopes of spending time with someone smart, interesting and (it has to be said) oh so pretty. 

And you’ll never guess…he was flattered and but that for the distance he’d love to.  The distance you ask?  Yeah...the kid got deported back to England.

Ain’t that a bitch? (Either that or a REALLY good lie to get out of telling me that he thinks I'm a hose-beast.  I'll take it either way. )

So there it is: I had a crush.  The universe reminded me that there are really smart, funny and appealing guys out there and that the only way to find out which ones they are is to go and find out first hand.  I find being alone to be entirely delightful (nobody to interfere with my string cheese eating or West Wing watching!) and hugely preferable to being with the wrong guy, but what about the right guy?  There it is: what about the right guy?  That little thought rankled and rattled around my brain for rest of the summer until once again, my period of perseveration ended in an abrupt decision and action.  You’re never going to win if you don’t even play the game.  

 One act of bravery (and yes, I consider asking out my very recent A&P teacher out on a date to be brave) inspired another act of bravery.   My first act resulted in an entertaining pen pal and drinking buddy if I ever happen to be in England, what would my second act bring?  

Song of the Day: Outloud

Dispatch first sang this sound acoustically at a Hurricane Katrina benefit several years ago and when you listen to it with that in mind, it's beautiful and not just a little bit sad.

 

Quote of the Day: It's Hard

"Getting where you're trying to go, it's bloody hard work and only one word really matters — and that's surviving."

- Richard Branson

 

 

 Amen brother.  

Quote of the Day: Belive in Dance

"I stand for honesty, equality, kindness, compassion, treating people the way you'd want to be treated and helping those in need.  To me, those are the traditional values.  That's what I stand for.  I also believe in dance."

- Ellen DeGeneres

Let's Talk Ground Rules

Confession: I joined Match.com.  Okay fine, I tried to join Match.com once and it didn’t go well so I took a break and then nine months later I joined it for real. True story.

The first time that I tried to join Match was after maybe three months of singledome when I was in the “my life is over and I’m never going to meet an interesting guy ever again” place.  It was an odd place, one with lots of Popsicle’s, Netflix and no small amount of emotional cutting. Surrounded by popsicle sticks and fearing permanently cherry stained lips, I turned to my friends for support and advice.  This, was  a terrible idea.  I don't know about your friends but sometimes my friends give me great advice, other times they tell me to join Match.com.  

Thankfully, dating websites seem prepared for this exact situation and in order to weed out emotional train wrecks (ahem) they require prospective members fill out a very snazzy questionnaire intended to assess emotional stability.  Tricksy questions such as, “what do you like to do in your spare time?” (Sit on the couch, watch Gossip Girl on Netflix and drink red wine?) and “How important to you is it that your potential match wear deodorant/ have basic social skills/ not be married/ have a job?” (Hint: when your answer is one big…meh…that’s a bad sign.)  Thank GOD this super dog sniffer of a survey was filled out before actually signing up for or paying for anything.  And so, abundantly aware of my overwhelming apathy towards members of the opposite sex, I closed my laptop, grabbed another fudgsicle and went back to my solo couch party.  I wasn’t there yet.

Four seasons of Grey's Anatomy, two semesters of nursing school pre-reqs and one MAJOR crush on a certain A&P teacher later – my super friends struck again.  This time I found the wherewithal somewhere within myself to care a little bit more about the bar against which I measured my potential suitors and embraced the idea of trying something new.  This brings me to my first line of defense.

Criteria for which you get ex-nayed / considered on first look:

1.       Gratuitous shirtless selfies.

I don’t think that this one needs an explanation.

2.       Any reference to wanting “like, not a supermodel or anything, but you know, someone who respects their body.”

The want to be attracted to one’s partner is implied in the whole “more than friends” situation and a need to turn the implied into the overt is distressing in and of itself.  Add in the idea that anyone not meeting a certain physical standard (one that I assume is most likely stereotypical and unrealistic for the likes of me) is lacking in respect for their body?  No thank you.

3.       Any reference to needing an “active sexual relationship.”

Vomit. 

 

4.       Current relationship status of anything other than single, divorced or widowed.

What else is there you ask?  What other status could one reasonably put on a dating website profile? It’s not normal, it’s not reasonable and it’s certainly not very smart but you could also choose: separated.  I can hear your collective gasp and please rest assured that I share your horror.  Take a breather dude, it’s okay to be alone for more than a week.

5.       Substitution of single letters and numbers for full words and/or refusal to abide by basic mechanical writing principles.

U for you.  4 for four.  B4 for before.  All caps, no periods, no commas?  You don’t have to have a Pulitzer Prize but Microsoft Word has an outstanding spelling and grammar check system.  Use it.  Please.

Add in the basic safety rules (no identifying information, no at home pickups and providing a friend with my password to the oh so handy Find My IPhone app) and you’ve got yourself a blind dating ball game. 

You might be wondering why I’m telling you these things.  Perhaps if you are in an established, loving relationship you might be thinking, "that sounds fun!"  Trust me, this ain't Sex in the City and in the coming posts there will be moments (trust me) where you ask yourself: “what the hell kind of criteria is she picking these guys with?”  In retrospect, perhaps I ought to have made more rules, but then again, what's the point of stepping out of your box if you're just going to box yourself back in with rules? 

So now you know that a.) I'm super lame and b.)  that it is with these rules in hand that I embarked upon an entirely hilarious, occasionally humiliating and entirely surreal six months of online dating. 

I'm back!

Have you missed me?!  I hate it when my life gets so nutty that I can’t and/or don’t want to write anything at all, much less proofread it for spelling and grammar errors and post it on the internet. With the addition of classes these last nine months, my life qualifies as beyond nuts.  Add in that there were parts of my life that I felt as if I shouldn’t be posting on the internet that it got difficult to write and I just threw in the towel for a few months. How do you write about your life when you feel obligated to hide parts of it? 

I’ve been single now for almost a year and a half and up until this point, I’ve refrained from posting the more entertaining aspects of this single life because a certain ex-boyfriend was still a friend and I worried about inflicting unnecessary hurt or sadness.  It might be my blog and the internet may be a free forum but those of us who post our lives for all to see are still responsible for the things that we put out into the world.  I know that I’ve unintentionally hurt people with things that I’ve written and so I try to ask myself before I post: is it kind? Kindness isn’t a very a tall order especially when its someone you care about and I wanted to take whatever road would keep him in my life as a friend. You can pick whatever road you want but when it gets rocky you may very well find yourself walking down it alone.

My personal road got REALLY rocky last month.  I’m sorry to be vague but you’re just going to have to trust that about a month ago my life got turned upside down and at times I’ve had to look reeeeally hard just to recognize it.  I am rarely, truly down for the count but I have been and as I’ve been climbing out of the valley, I’ve had to face some very real truths. 

Truth: There’s nothing like being truly down and out to find out who your real friends are.  It’s nuts (or insanely lucky) that I saved this lesson for 29 but there it is.  A few people who I previously considered to be “true blue” have somewhat disappointingly faded out but far more heartwarming has been the so very many people who were there before I even thought to ask and haven’t budged since.  It’s challenging at times not to focus on the losses (hey, it still stings) but since we are speaking of truths:  losses notwithstanding, I am beyond blessed to be surrounded by amazing people.

Truth: Once somebody shows you who they are, what their priorities are or what kind of friend they are, no amount of arguing or trying to make them feel bad for letting you down will make you feel better.  There are certain things that can’t (or shouldn’t) be unseen and there comes a point where you should just walk away.  

Truth: this might be redundant but it bears repeating, I have SO MANY amazing, wonderful, warm, loving and supportive friends.  With an arsenal like that, it might hurt to walk away from the not so great ones but it’s not hard.

Back to my point: I am free from my emotional obligations (both real and imagined) to hide my okay-ness (or not so okay-ness as the case may be), AND my classes this semester are not quite to all-encompassing as they have been in semesters past.  So, what does all this garment-tearing, tear-soaked, soul-searching mean for you my loyal readers who have been suffering in the silence of the last six months?  It means the return of…..dating stories! Okay fine, it just means the return of the blog period, including some dating stories here and there.  They’re being told a little bit in retrospect but don’t you worry, time may dull the pain of loss but it certainly has not dulled some of the more fan-damn-tastic details of the last six months.