Written on the airplane from my should-be-a-writer realtor gay BF. Picture a thick Mississippi, gay-tinged drawl.:
Why did I find this so funny? LOL[ing] on a flight is not cool.
Here’s the scene. Flight from Mexico City to Miami. Sitting across the aisle from me is an elderly Mexican man. Big hat, even bigger silver mustache. Short stubby fingers on chubby hands that have not seen the likes of Vaseline Intensive Care lotion in a good half a century. Not sure, but it could be his after shave that’s been overpowering the jet fumes since boarding the flight. In front of him is young kid, probably being sent to Miami to “learn English” as is common for that set.
So you’ve got rich kid navigating between his multiple iGadgets sitting in front of someone’s grandfather wearing his Sunday best and a well worn leather vest. OK, he’s Mexican—this is someones’ great grandfather.
Here’s the part that got me going. Senior Juan, after completing his immigration card needed to return his tray table to its “original and upright position.” Problem is it wouldn’t stay. It kept falling onto his bean packed belly. With those moisture starved hands, he caressed the edges looking for, well I’m not sure what. But those big, crusty hands were on a mission. Whatever it was they were looking for, they didn’t find.
Light bulb! The trick to getting the tray table to stay up was to somehow slam it into place, as if something would catch and it would stay. Magic. Guess what, it didn’t work. So in a display of that generation’s determination, Juan decided try and try, and try, and try again…with a little force.
Finally, in disgust, the earpieces come out of the English student’s ears and he sat up as if…well, as if what?!
But determination prevailed! Fondling the seat back revealed a little lever that did the trick!
Everyone’s happy…maybe a little embarrassed from sitting alone and laughing, but happy.
Hahahahaha! D is so fucking funny. We went on a fairly long—for cripple over here—walk yesterday. I'm feeling pretty good, though I think I'm PMSing on top of all this BS. Friday I have a Xometa infusion.
By the grace of the God of Jewelry, my folks were in NY last weekend and stopped into Chopard to see my Cancer partner, Vicky. Thank fucking god they did. I'd remembered that she had a very rough time after her first Xometa infusion. She texted me that Mom and Dad had stopped in but she was with a client so she missed them. And she was actually at Sloan getting the Xomeda that night! So I called her and got the DL. She is very sensitive to all the drugs, so we are hoping I will not react like her, but. . . . She said she had the worst bone pain ever; was like screaming in agony. Even her scalp hurt. She was laid up for an entire week. Couldn't work, her mom took care of her etc. I was scheduled for the infusion Monday; it was Friday night. So I call mom freaking, us trying to figure out how she was going to make it here by Monday when they just got back from NY Sunday. At this point, my mom's used all her vacay and sick days taking care of my ass and going on the usual vacays.
"You know what, fuck this. If I do have the worst-case-scenario side effects, then I'm going to need you here for 24 hours."
"We-ellllll," (Nancy voice), "I'll drive in Monday, we'll get the shot and then we'll drive back to Jacksonville after."
"Mom, it makes no sense for you to drive 10 hours in one day and moreover I don't want to be in Jacksonville all week!"
"We-elll, that's best for me for work."
"Look, we've got to find a compromise. I'm going to talk to Norton this week, cancel the shot Monday, get the downlow and I will either put it off till absolutely necessary or schedule it for late on Friday so you can work all week and then come in late Friday afternoon, stay through the weekend and be here for Monday."
Monday is another Chemo Hell treatment a la the first one—fingers double crossed, prayers sent to all the Gods in the world, that Norton's cocktail greatly improves the side-effects. Norton's out on Mondays, so I talked to Schwartz in-depth. He says typical side-effects are none at all or minor fever and joint achiness in first 24 hours. That Vicky's reaction is atypical and I shouldn't worry, but he understands my paranoia after Chemo Hell Week 2010.
So, Mom, Dad, the Shih Tzus Stella and Tessie—whom I've coined 'Stellacitessan'—will drive down Friday. Dad will fly out Sunday and Mom will stay until I don't need her. I'm doubling up on acupuncture this week; about to go now and Friday I'll have him prep me for Xometa shot and Chemo Hell treatment. I'll have about five seeds in my ear probably.
On a beauty note, did you guys know that acupuncture helps with wrinkles??? I kid you not! He's worked on my forehead line and It's better after just a couple treatments! No more Botox!! The benefits of acu are BOUNDLESS. I can't wait for Brother to try when he's here in two weeks.