EXPLOSIONS

November 12,2009 Thursday

Well, it's been several days since last I posted. Funny how time flies when you don't feel good. The past few days have been filled with nausea, IBS, and just plain not feeling good. I'm more tired now. So I guess my hemoglobin is dropping. And with my not feeling good, my temper and my patience have lost control. Yesterday was the boiling over point for me. I lost my temper and my emotions over something so stupid and mundane, it shakes me. I guess I should have known, my "horoscope" called it.

Anyone who triggers your feelings will receive a signal (and the transmission quality will be very loud and very clear) that their challenge has been accepted. Whether or not they intended this little emotional prod to be a dare of sorts won't matter. Your response will be the same. Duck!

Should have listened. But I was in a good mood to start the day, even though I was fighting the nausea. Saw the shoulder surgeon who removed my lypoma on my shoulder for the 6 week follow-up and even though it took an hour to be seen, the wait was worth it. While waiting in the waiting area I spied with my little eye a beautiful African-American woman who lit up the room. Dressed to impressed in lime green linen and big bold gold net spun earrings and a scarf tied in a way I just had to know how it was done. So I asked her. She jumped up sat down next to me and said, "I could show you, it's easy." So right there, she unfurls the scarf and demonstrates with the ease of a pro just how to do it. The waiting room was amazed as we sat there and watched in awe. Then she says to me, "You can do it with that scarf." and points to my pashmina laying next to me. I find myself unfurling the silk scarf I was wearing and reveal the my very bald head. The woman looks at me and says, "Why would you want to cover that beautiful head?" The "crowd" agrees, and I respond, "Because it's cold today." We all laugh and I have my lesson on tying a long scarf to look like a bun set tight to the nape of my neck. We became fast friends, Cancer has a way of doing that. She from Trinadad with a daughter she misses in Boston, Me a New Yorker who misses her daughter in Los Angeles. We spoke only briefly of our maladies. We focused on being moms, and how inspiring our daughters were to us. Then the long wait was over, and we both wished the doctors had taken longer to see us.

I got a good report from the doctor, who will see me in 6 months to follow up. The visit lasted :60, the report, "Well, you certainly heal quickly. Whatever you are doing, keep it up. See you in 6 months." And we were gone. The visit was not a waste of time, however, I learned how to do a great "hairdo", and met an inspirational woman who will battle her cancer way longer than I. Ed and I head home, and the nausea returns, the cramping the frequent visits to the bathroom and then, my day implodes with a series of unwanted phone calls.

The errant fax call. The wrong number, over and over again. Every two minutes. I know who the intended fax is for and today is the wrong day to be annoying me with this. Remember this company's name ~ BALTER SALES. The bane of my land line existence for the past 20 years. For years now we have received calls from companies trying to place their fork, glass, and plate orders for their restaurants with us. They call us, "Balter Sales?" They fax us, (*&*^&^$^%$*&beep...beep...beep. Years ago, when I didn't have the money, I even went out and got a fax machine to make it stop. Once I received the faxes I'd call the companies to tell them of their error. I was usually met with rudeness and disdain. I found that odd since I was trying to help them (No good dead goes unpunished) So I would call Balter Sales and oddly enough was met with the same rudeness and disdain and they even went so far as to say that we were somehow to blame for this. Over the years Balter Sales has become the enemy. Irene, Iris, and Linda (the office workers?) are the biggest Bitches on the planet. Here I call to HELP them out. The last time I spoke with Linda I promised her that if she didn't fix the problem I would simply accept the faxes and shred them, because I was not obligated to help her out. She told me I was evil. She told me to change my phone number. Something we will NOT do since we've had this number for over 30 years. Not going to happen. I've suggested they send out a special memo to the companies that they serve with their fax number extra big and suggest that the persons sending faxes double check to make sure they have entered the number correctly. "Why on Earth would we do that?! We don't have to help you." Well, I don't have to help them. Times is Hard Mr. Todd, and when you practice bad business, bad business will bring you down.

So that is the back story, back to yesterday. Ed was jumping up every two minutes to hang up the phone, so I, in my impatience with the 'toddler' game, flared, "Just plug in the fax, it's probably for Balter!" Ed struggled with the tangle of cords just to find the damn fax jack, plugs it in just in time for the phone to start again. The fax machine jumps to life, and spews out exactly what I thought would happen, an order for Glassware and FORKS. Thanksgiving is coming when the Balter Sales faxes come pouring in. So I told Ed to call the company and let them know they dialed the wrong number and they need to recheck. Ed does not listen to me, he calls Balter Sales. WHY!? WHY DID HE DO THIS?! They immediately jump on him, I could hear Irene, with her obnoxious Brooklyn dialect all nasally. Ed is like, hey I'm trying to help you out here. So I interject, because I know what's going to happen next, "Just hang up and let them suffer the consequences. He tells me to be quiet. Which angers me. So I snort and say let Ed suffer the consequences. Back and forth they go, with Ed trying to give constructive advice, and the bitch on the other end of the line giving him hell. So finally, he gets Linda on the phone, and the whole ANNOYING thing starts all over again. So I interject again. "She does so know who this is, we go way back Linda, remember?" Ed tells me to SHUT UP. I say, "No!, just hang up on them, they will only change things when they start losing business. Shred the order." Ed tells me to GDamn it, woman, shut the Hell up. So, it's going to be like that is it? I jump up, slap him as hard as I can storm to my room and slam the door, and begin to cry, cry hard. Not because of Balter Sales, not because Ed said shut the Hell up, but because I just feel so crappy, and I hate what I'm going through, and I hate feeling nauseous all the time, and I hate that I've forgotten to put me first AGAIN. I hate that I'm trying to be all upbeat and funny when what I want, what I need is to curl up in a ball and have someone strong hold me tight and tell me to cry and they will take care of everything. Go ahead be afraid, be weak, be sad, be anything you want, I've got it all covered. But I'm married to an actor, who always comes home in the true form of actor convinced that he will never work again, weighed down with a wife who has cancer,who is usually the rock, the pep squad, the normalizer. An Unemployment claim that is totally messed up and of course we are getting the raw end of the deal. Add a little anxiety and I fall back into the mode of "It's not about you, keep Ed happy...." Well, Damnit! It is about me right now. I'm mad, I'm scared, I'm sad, I'm frustrated, I'm not feeling well, the list goes on and on.

Ed comes back and yells at me, I tell him to go away, I do not want him in the same room with me. Ian comes back confused, I yell at both of them, "GO AWAY!!!!!! BOTH OF YOU!!!!" Ian knows when to leave, Ed remains. My anger, frustration, fear, sorrow, the reality of being cut up and into, and now poisoned spew from me in hot angry flows of magma and ash and scalding steam. "LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!! I HATE YOU RIGHT NOW!!!! I HATE EVERYTHING!!!!!" I get hysterical and sob uncontrollably, and Ed stung with hurt and anger himself, storms out of the room. I cried for a long time and after a period of time comes a timid knock at the door. I knew it was Ian. He enters quietly, curls up next to me, and says, "I love you Momma." I melt into tears once again, but these tears are gratitude. My strong brave son knew without being told exactly what I needed. A HUG. He held me for quite awhile and stroke my bald head and told me I was beautiful. My anger calmed, my frustration ebbed, and my fear receded. I have the most wonderful boy in the world, and the girl who will land him in the end will be the luckiest girl in the world. Compassionate, kind, and loving. Ian in three words.

Eventually, Ed and I made up. Obviously, the danger of not living every feeling, the danger of stuffing down emotions to spare others has a cost, Explosions. Lesson learned. Not a perfect day, Wednesday night and no Modern Family, no definitely not a perfect day. But I learned how to tie a scarf that makes me look like royalty.

Today, is a day to make up for yesterday's wrongs. Balter Sales will never receive a fax received here. They will never be called again as a helpful neighbor. I intend to make good on the promise to print their faxes and promptly shred them. I don't have to take care of anyone but me right now. People who don't want to help themselves and blame others for their problems are banned from my house. So tough luck Balter. Good luck with your business, you've done it to yourself. How about you change your phone numbers. HA!

Nite!

Light and Love!

Melissa