If you think your life is bad. . .

Compare and Contrast:

I have been kidnapped by my parents and driven up to Jackassville, FL because I cannot physically care for myself.

I am being taken to court for a delinquent American Express Platinum Card account. Meaning I'll probably have to declare bankruptcy.

The man I thought I would spend the rest of my life with, wherever that may be, has unceremoniously dumped me and fallen off the face of the earth.

I have become the pathetic, needy, annoying woman crying 24/7 over love lost.

I am in mounds of physical pain.

I have a tube coming down from under my armpit, where the skin is stapled together. The tube leads into a drain that fills with bile that I must empty and measure each day.

I cannot pick up my beloved dog because I have very limited use of my arms. It hurts to drink, to eat, to lie down to sit up. Everything hurts.

What do I have to look forward to this week? Possibly more bad news: if 3 more lymph nodes have cancer cells in them, I will have to have radiation therapy after chemo. I won't know that until Tuesday at the earliest.

The end of this week I will get my final drain removed, assuming all goes according to plan, which seems unlikely.

Basically I have 6 mos of hell in front of me with nothing to look forward to at the end now that Beau is done with me.

Today, yesterday and the day before--not such good days. I've never gone this long without talking to him since we met. I ruin everything good in my life; I have a knack for it. And I know my friends will rally around and say 'It's not you it's him," but it's both of us. Relationships are two-way streets and now it's a one-way one that I'm not allowed to make a turn onto.

Ain't life fucking grand? I'm going to crawl into bed and cry my sorry ass to sleep after I shove my mouth full of painkillers.

Congratulate me--I have finally entered the wireless age! I am in my parents' car traveling north to their home for some R&R, typing on the laptop, syncing my iTouch and downloading movies from iTunes.

Now, can someone explain to me the point of downloading a movie in a car when it takes 5 fucking hours to do so????

Oh well, I'm listening to a Danielle Steel book while blogging.

I have decided to be the bigger person in the me-versus-Beau saga. Even though I AM 5+ years younger than him. After many nasty texts and emails (come on, wouldn't you be enraged if your beau didn't even check in with you after a MAJOR cancer surgery?), I have decided to take a much needed break from him and all men. Since he is still the only man I want, forsaking others won't be hard.

The hardest part will be not hearing his voice; not kissing or touching him; not making him laugh; not holding him; not sleeping with him; not talking to him on the phone for hours; not being able to lean on him; and especially not knowing what I've done to drive him so far away so fast.

Only he has the power to come around because I've told him a million times that I will be here for him whenever he comes out the other side. But this is what I'm agonizing over--how can someone who said he'd never loved anyone like this, who said "there's going to be no other woman after you," me cut me off completely and selfishly during the time when I would value his company most? If he really does love me, could he possibly do this? Can he sleep at night not knowing (unless he is reading this) that I came through the operation okay? Does he not care about my chemo schedule? My physical pain? My plans? My anything?

How can you not care anymore B?

I'm going to stop, because every time I think of him I cry. My back hurts from my lymph node removal, but emotionally I'm in more pain. But I'm channelling this negative energy into creativity and writing like there's no tomorrow. And in about an hour and a half, I will be united with my other black lover, who has loved me unconditionally for 12 years--Wally.

From now on--since I cannot rightfully call him my Beau anymore--I shall call him Beauseur: Beau + Poseur.

So ABB, Beauseur is your new moniker until you redeem yourself. How's that for a Bamboozle? Word.

Tomorrow I'm off for some R&R. In case ya'll are wondering how I'm holding up, these photos should be an indication. Of course they don't show my insdies being ripped out by the Beau.

A couple hours after surgery, with celebratory cake from Epicurre. . .


Mom and Lynn pimping the pink. . .

Me and the Jit on Lincoln Road tonight, one night after surgery. . .