I should be blogging about my female issues, part 2, but at the moment my innards are weeping the bloodiest of tears. I’ve slept so much this week since the endometrial biopsy- and it jump started my period early. I had no idea that simple uterine biopsies could take so much out of a person. The pain is better, the fatigue is not.
My hysterectomy is scheduled for 12 July.
My endometrial biopsy (the first) should be back early this week, the oncologist says.
My son graduated from high school last weekend, I still need to add this to the blog. I am so proud of him.
Maisie has her 2nd ballet/tap recital of her life tomorrow. I will be herding cats/taking care of the tots back stage, like I did last year. Someone has to do it and I’m evolving into a stage mother at this point.
The other crazy things happening in the periphery are dying down, for now. I’ve had my say and will continue to work through this, as a reminder to myself and others- don’t let people walk all over you. There are some seriously chronically messed up opportunists out there- and yeah, while addiction can account for a lot, that still is not an excuse for what was done to us.
I think about Bourdain and his fragility- and the fragility of those around us. This world will eat you up and spit you out if you don’t stand up for yourself and for what is right. Tony Bourdain stood up against the tides, championed his girlfriend’s #metoo cause against Weinstein- and it still wasn’t enough.
I saw a chilling post Bourdain put up on his Twitter on 22 May. It called out some guy re being found hung (I’m paraphrasing) in a lavatory from auto-erotic asphyxiation. It kind of gave me chills. While I don’t know the circumstances surrounding his death any more than the rest of us (a bathrobe belt, found tied to a door)- suicide or accident- neither is preferable.
He had his child at 50. That alone would make it impossible for me to take my own life, but I don’t live in anyone’s skin but my own.
It’s sad, sad, sad in this mad world.
Death comes to all of us, sooner or later. I think about my own mortality a lot right now. I’d fight tooth and nail against it, just like I fight tooth and nail against any other injustice levied against others and myself.
But life goes on, children grow up and graduate and do their recitals and play with their toys. We grow older. We die.
Over and over, in different bodies and different lives, it is all the same. We all share this common thread- even though we believe we’re unique.
We’re not unique. That is the beauty of it. The sameness, the threads that bind us- that’s the wonderment.