Wow, I don’t know, this morning, I just don’t know. I haven’t been reading the news and then when I do read it I get freaked out. I guess the price cap on insulin is gone now. Scary. Convicted rapist in Whitehouse. Scary. My friend Jan has lost 18 pounds on Weight Watchers only ten more pounds to go! Exciting and wonderful. My yoga teacher, has stage 3 breast cancer. Scary! But an 80% chance of recovery per statistics, EXCITING. My husband is off to the Native Garden world where he gets to be an expert for like 8 hours. This makes him so happy and joyful, and that makes me happy. The Tesla trucks scare me when I see them on the road, they look so predatory.
When I was a kid, I had faith in my mind. I was a very good student and then I kindof lost my mind, lots of trauma, so I’ve been a little doubtful of it ever since.
What do I have faith in? Getting up and trying again. That sounds so trite. Participating. I have a friend who says, and I’m sure she got this quote from someone, that the time to make a decision about someone is … never. I like that. Connie is a much kinder person than I am. I have faith in Connie’s kindness.
I have faith in my dog, Wiggins, loyalty. I believe in the oxidation/reduction process and photosynthesis. I had mentioned to someone how odd, and incredible it was to me that Bob Dylan wrote so beautifully about things that, as a middle class Jewish kid, he couldn’t have experienced. The response to this was, “makes you believe in reincarnation doesn’t it?” I don’t think I have faith in that. But that’s the only explanation that makes sense to me.
I hope that kindness and reasonableness come out ahead, not only in our nation but the world, but I just don’t know.
In conclusion, I think the only thing I really have faith in is Connie’s kindness.
Depart SFO 10 PM on 4/26 and arrive in Auckland at 6 AM on 4/28 – we crossed the international date line.
We flew Air New Zealand and traveled Premium Business Class. Tom and I were in separate cocoon type seats. We were able to sleep although I was extremely dehydrated by the time we got off of the plane. Tom said he got some sleep but it wasn’t a good night’s sleep. That said, we were glad we upgraded.
We took a taxi to the Sudima Auckland and there were paper poppies everywhere celebrating Remembrance day. Australia and New Zealand lost many at Galipoli. They celebrate their Remembrance day of 4/25 – WWI
We arrived in Auckland on 4/29. We lost 4/28 crossing the International date line. Everyone was zipping around on scooters. It’s a share scooter scheme where you pick one up and then go to where you’re going and then drop the scooter for the next person. Some scooters have helmets with them, some don’t, and almost no one wears them. Auckland is cleaner than San Francisco and is affluent. Most people had great teeth. You see the Maori, Japanese, Chinese, Anglos and Indians and then some GORGEOUS mixes with the younger generations. Dear god if I were an artist I’d paint them all.
We spent the day at Auckland museum with had awesome Maori (Mow-ri) displays. But colonialism just about decimated that population.
Similar to what we saw in the Smoky Mountains with the Native Americans, descendants of the Maori are identifying and trying to revive language and arts of their ancestors. It’s inspiring to watch and also interesting since most of us aren’t pure anything anymore, people being who they are and people being mobile. We watched a dance exhibit that had a Maori woman who was more fair skinned than I am. I feel as though the world is filled with people trying to find some identity that puts them in contact with the earth. As someone who has run in the rain and walked my dog in the snow and hiked up hills at sunrise to beat the heat, I understand this desire. That said, at this point in my personhood I get annoyed when hotel rooms don’t have bidets.
4/30 Our young guide Braden, 5th in a family of 8, married to a girl from Utah, picked us up from the hotel. When we asked if there was room for our third piece of luggage, a duffel bag, he replied “yes, lots of room on the bus, you are the only guests for this tour.” We were delighted and concerned. This kid was going to be bored out of his mind if he only had Tom and me to drive around.
A fairly long drive out to Paparoa for a picnic lunch at the side of the road. It was some great quinoa and vegetable salad thing that had among other things, sweet potato and avocado in it. I ran across the road to get a coffee and this was the only time in our whole visit to NZ that I had to pay cash, New Zealand currency, for anything. Everyone else was more than happy to accept credit cards.
That night we took a walk in the Waipoua Forest,where we had a twilight walk and were guided by a Maori descendant Tawhiri who chanted to the gods, he was an excellent chanter and we viewed New Zealand’s largest known living kauri (pronounced Cody) tree, 168 feet high and 45 feet round. Kauri’s are known to live past three thousand years, the tree we viewed was only about 800 years or so old. We saw a possum up a tree and their possums are a lot cuter than our possums and are considered an intrusive pest that they are trying to get rid of.
Our guide Tawhiri looked a lot like Justin. He had ginger in his mustache and freckles so not 100% Maori. The sides of his head were shaved and long at the back.
Tawhiri thanked the medical students that were on the tour and cautioned us to not need medical assistance outside the hours of 9-5 M-F as the current hospital is understaffed. Tawhiri and his wife were living in Australia but had moved back to New Zealand to start a family so that their kids could have a traditional Maori cultural upbringing.
We stayed the night in The Heads, Hokianga Harbour.
5/1 I noticed seagulls that had white dots on their tail feathers.
We saw a mangrove forest on the Waitangi River Walk. These trees have roots that go down and then come up out of the water. They looked creepy and sort of sci fi. We also saw Haruru Falls.
We stayed the night at Kingsgate Auto Lodge in Bahia.
5/2 We took a boat to Deep Water Cove to hike Cape Brett. The boat had two darling Maori brothers. One of them was wearing a Tommy Hilfiger jacket, flip flops and shorts and a knit cap. The other one was quiet, I didn’t pay attention to what he was wearing but he was a very good driver. We saw dolphins on the water! We weren’t able to get dropped off at the original point because the water was too rocky. Also, we weren’t able to hike the whole of Cape Brett because of weather for pickup. So we did an out and back and frankly, it was great. A cormorant hopped on to the boat for the last bit of the ride, and that was kind of fun.
Something else that was fun was that the kids coming home from school were carrying stoats traps. The Kiwis are all over getting rid of stoats, rats and possums. It still felt weird to me to see elementary school kids carrying death traps. Quite a few of the kids looked to be full Maori.
We stayed at Pacific Redezvous Motel
5/3 We went snorkeling at Poor Knight’s Harbor. It was magical, loads of different colored fish. We wore wet suits and we also used our water noodles. We were the only ones using water noodles on the second dive/snorkeling drop.
We were told that Poor Knight’s Harbor was one of Jacques Cousteau’s favorite diving sites.
Braden met us at the dock with hot chocolate with marshmallows. That kid!
We stayed at Pacific Redezvous Motel
5/4 Lots of driving but I’m going to log some things we’ve seen Nkau – nutless palm tree Karo – silver leaf plant used for navigation and fiddle neck used for food. piwakawaka – fantail bird, that seems to be following us everywhere lots of building and NZ is short of builders 30 somethings have given up owning their own home because it’s too expensive Mini mcMansions
Did a walk in Mangawhai Heads… this was not the most memorable.
Returned to Sudima Aukland
5/5 Free day in Aukland We went on a whale /dolphin safari – whee!!!! Saw Brydes Whales, Dolphin Dolph, the most common type of dolphin and gannets. Gannets mate for life and have three eyelids
Stayed at Sudima Auckland
5/6Visit Te Aloha, which means love, and Waiere Waterfall. A tanika is a protective spirit that manifests as an eel or dragon and the waterfall had a legend about a tanika protecting the chief’s daughter until a noble man came along. Sadly the tanika fell in love with the daughter but he was willing to let her go.We did a little hike where we saw the waterfall and glow worms, it was called a goldmine hike. This area was known for its spring which was full of awesomeness and then it was purchased by Schweppes and then Braden gave us each a can of this lemon drink that uses the well’s water. We met his wife Katie! and his father, un-named. A short blond haired blue eyed 69 year old who is delighted with his life and son as well as his son’s wife. We had lunch at a place where we sat with our feet in hot water. It was called something ridiculous like “shinny’s”
Sudima Rotorua
5/7 Whakarewarea Forest and then Te Puia We learned that the fiddle neck of the silver fern or conga or ping is the only plant that is on a country’s flag, New Zealand’s.
Also the Heba(sp?) plant sent to soldiers to cure their gut.
Braden also pointed out a lemon bush, a swelled tree and a bush with orange berries, as well as the butt wiping bush.
We also went mountain biking. This was a fail as I slid into the side of the trail and the bike stayed between my legs as my legs went completely over my head. I later learned that in mountain biking this is called a full sin or fatal sin move, lucky me only some bruises but we cut the bike ride short and mostly pushed the bikes out. Tom was a sport, the guide, Paul advised e-bikes for next time. The bike guide ran a deer stag ranch. The antler’s felt is very valuable to the Chinese but during the fall he had lots of free time so he guides for this mountain bike place that is owned by a world class mountain biker.
At night we went and saw a somewhat traditional Maori performance and Tom got to be Chief! then we sat on hot rocks and drank hot chocolate and looked at a geyser and mud pools.
Sudima Hotel, Rotorua
5/8 Hiked along Rainbow Mountain and to Huka falls. We were going to sit in hot pools but they weren’t hot enough. We stayed at a trout fishing lodge, which is also home to the blue ducks. We liked this lodge. It was on a river and just really nice. We didn’t see the blue ducks with the rubber bills but we had a beautiful walk along the river. The town that we stayed in was very pretty with lots of trees and just an aura of calmness.
Creel Lodge Turangi
5/9 We hiked in Tongariro National Park and we got caught in a snow flurry while the sun was shining! it was magical. I bought a tshirt and a stuffed pi waka waka at the visitor’s center. It was a nice visitor’s center, good displays on flora, fauna (possum pelt that Tom would not let me take a picture of to send to Addison) and great bathrooms.
We soaked in hot springs after our hike
Braden made us a dinner of salmon, green beans and mashed potatoes with a fruit and dark chocolate thing for dessert.
Creel Lodge, Turangi
5/10 Waitomo Caves Dreaded glow worm ride in the river. F’n cold man, even with long johns and wet suit, and even with headlamp, hard to see. There was a teenage girl who was there with her mom or aunt and the aunt kept saying “I did this 15 years ago it was soooo much fun!” let me tell you her daughter/niece’s eyes kept getting bigger and bigger with the look of ‘what the fuck were you thinking? this is NOT fun!” I concur. I really didn’t like the part where we flipped over on our stomachs and had to use our hands and feet to push us forward so we wouldn’t bang our heads on the cave ceiling. Again, Tom was a sport and bird dogging me to make sure I didn’t fall and hurt myself. We had an amazing guide, Tu. He was a young Maori with fern leaf tattoos on his neck and great big hazel eyes, big CZ posts in his ears and oddly, strong cologne. He kept saying to me “it’s ok Mum, you’re going to be fine, put your hand on my shoulder now…” We fist bumped after it was all over.
Another thing, wetsuits, they didn’t want us to pee in the wetsuit. I’m not quite sure why as they disinfect them afters, but ok. So I ran up to the showers and peeled that thing off in my shower section that was curtained off but NO DRAIN! Sure there was a communal drain, but if I pee’d it would run down through other people’s private shower sections and it would be like a big yellow arrow pointing to me. I ran out of shower thing, still freezing, and pee’d and then ran back. This just added to my trauma.
Our guide, burst out laughing when he saw me approach the rafting office after the event. I looked as traumatized as I felt.
We got stuck in some god awful commute traffic on the way back to Auckland. Tom tried to explain what air pollution was to him as Braden said he had never seen it in New Zealand. Wow, can you imagine?
5/11 We toured the Maritime museum and got a mostly exclusive docent guided tour. Peter was a retired analytic chemist, born in Christchurch, South Island, and his son is an artist who does interior design and has a gallery in Dallas, TX. Peter’s daughter lives close to Auckland with her husband and two children. Anyhooo, Peter is quite passionate about the Maori history, culture and the history of the America’s cup. Wow! I thought that horse racing was a rich man’s game but these yacht races, millions and millions of dollars are spent on the boats and the training. Another thing that Peter mentioned was that musuems are adding these to some smells to their displays. I was happy to not have the smell of the below deck accommodations that the British used when they came to New Zealand. We kind of got bored of walking around Auckland and maybe should have opted to fly out on American Airlines but we didn’t. We had dinner at a steakhouse where Tom had pepper steak and I had roast vegetables.
5/12 More wandering around Auckland looking at beautiful people in beautiful clothes and avoiding the few homeless they have. Oh, one other thing, many of the stores downtown have security guards, This didn’t seem to bode well for crime rate but we didn’t research this.
Tom wanted me to say more about the food but I can’t think of anything other than to complain about no drip coffee. Oh no! I have to go with yet another flat white! And of course they have British pies and British pies with curry filling. Also, the apples were fab.
We flew out at 7:45 PM on Sunday the 12th and arrived at SFO at 12:30 PM on Sunday . Turbulent but mostly uneventful flight home.
We both loved the North Island but loved the South Island which we went to 8 years ago, more.
I’m good at getting groups of people to focus on a single goal.
I’m good at showing up on time.
I’m good at making the very sick and sometimes dying laugh. This is a weird super power, but it’s one that I have. I don’t like tooting my own horn on this one but there you have it.
When Dorothy, my mentor was dying, I brought her and her husband home made tv dinners to toss in their freezer. And then I would sit with Dorothy and make up tall tales about people we knew in common. For example, “Did you know that Russ is having group sex with identical twins?” We both knew that Russ was having a hard enough time getting laid let alone having sex with two gorgeous identical twins. But just the thought, the thought you know, made us both happy.
My first big girl job out of college was working for a law firm that did estate and trust work. Well, that was what the partner I worked for did. Sometimes, I was one of the last people our clients would see before they kicked it. The partner I worked for was afraid of sick people so I was the probate front man if you will. One old dear insisted, she insisted that someone come feel the tumor on her neck. This was the tumor that was killing her. My boss wouldn’t but sure, I was game. I went to feel it and then I said, “Uh oh!” She replied, “What? What?” And I said, “I think it just moved to the other side, you better check it, it just might kill you moving around like that.” We laughed and laughed and laughed. Well, my boss didn’t laugh, he turned green and looked away.
Another time, I was going in to have this lovely man sign some paperwork before going into a surgery that he had oh, a thirty percent chance of surviving. Of course he was toast if he didn’t do the surgery at all. He started to tell my boss the details of this complicated surgery. My boss was uncomfortable, I was fascinated. He had the aide wheel him over to me and he lifted the jacket of my faux channel suit and drew on my stomach with his finger where they were going to go in to connect this and that and remove the other bits. At one point I asked, “Well, wait a minute, this last bit seems tricky what if they miss it?” He gave an exaggerated gallic shrug of his shoulders and well, there were tears in my eyes I was laughing so hard. He went in and under with a grin. Oh, and he did survive that one.
But my favorites, my absolute favorites were the princesses. I have no idea how or where they got their money from. I don’t even know what country they came from. I did know that they spoke English with a thick guttural accent and they had quite a bit of heavy gold jewelry. The princesses were old but able. They liked to revisit their estate papers often and move assets from one unfavored relative to another favored one. I would bring them strong coffee and their files. I was young and the princesses would let me try on their jewelry, while I was working on their accounts. Once they wrapped my head up in a big silk scarf, like a turban and I sat there bejeweled and turbaned while working on their accounts. It was a lovely afternoon. When the princesses left that day my boss came into my office and bellowed, “They won’t even make an appointment with me anymore, only you. I don’t pay you to play with the princesses!” And I thought, ‘but oh, yes you do, you do.’
It was 2016. I was working for at&t and it was pushing retraining of the current workforce. AT&T was pushing it pretty hard. They called it “Workforce 2020”. The message to the employees was to either train up in technology or get out. The company’s CEO was quoted in the NYTimes, 02/13/2016.
“… employees must “retool” continuously. He added that those not spending five to 10 hours a week of their personal time in online learning will “obsolete themselves” with the technology.”
AT&T had quite a few employees who were what I think of as the backbone of America. The people who were most at risk of losing their jobs. And I was worried, not so much for myself but for them. Middle aged women, dressed not quite so fashionably, carrying an extra 25 pounds or so. That weight that you can’t shed after the last child is born and you don’t have time to shed once you’re working and have kids in school. Clothes bought on sale at Macy’s or Ross or TJ Maxx, sometimes colorful but not always quite in style. These are the women who bring their lunches to work, who make casseroles for their neighbors and bring snacks to the kids’ ball games. These are the women who have NO time for themselves. How they were expected to put in an additional ten hours a week of their own time. An additional ten hours where they were focused and alert and not distracted by the needs of others, was beyond me. These women were my age and somehow looked older. With no children and with many years experience in technology I did not feel at risk.
Technology moves at a lightning pace and I was constantly reading, taking classes, workshops etc., just to stay relevant. I had two professional certifications that required ongoing learning to stay active. AT&T’s employee motto had been “from womb to tomb” for years. It was a culture of once you’re in, you’re in for life and you get to retire with a lovely pension and full benefits. At one time at&t had been the biggest employer of software engineers in the world. It had, during its history, moved from designing software to buying off the shelf software and acquiring software companies that had the products it wanted. I had been an employee of one of those acquired startups. Like fashion, the mission was changing again, back to being a software innovator and design company, at least this was the goal. Many of the clerical functions were being consolidated, by software, or moved to lower rent areas. AT&T was eager to jettison the expensive pension and health plans of the aging employee base. It was airing commercials to attract young and technical employees.
I had started too late to get the full womb to tomb benefits but the company had been pretty good to me and had allowed me the flexibility to tutor young girls. I now turned my focus to the employee base. I decided to volunteer internally to help some of the employees retrain. Since software is the foundation of technology, I set up an internal workshop to introduce them to coding. I used the curriculum from code.org . I reviewed several introductory workshops with a woman who was in my mentoring group to choose the class that would be the kindest “dipping the toe into coding” that we could find. It was in game form using angry birds.
“T” had a full training center in the basement of its San Ramon facility with several classrooms and internet connectivity. Sadly, it had not updated its technology to go with its new mission for its employees to tool up. Undeterred, I had the women bring in their own laptops or electronic notebooks or even smartphones to do the exercises. I listened to the conversations as the women filed in.
“I did quite a few classes in information technology but the company moved me to a project management role. I was never able to get a technical position.”
“Oh me too! but I’m in accounting and I hear they’re moving the whole department to St. Louis.”
“I actually have a degree in programming but I haven’t done it in so long, I work in human resources now, that I don’t even know… hell I can hardly work my own tv system at home”
This last one was greeted with some knowing chuckles.
Quite a few of these women had technical backgrounds but since the company culture had historically been hostile to female technologists these women had been pushed aside into administrative positions: project management, accounting, human resources, and secretarial roles.
Once everyone was in and settled a woman asked “Martha, why are you doing this? you’re not getting paid are you?”
“We all need to train up or we’ll all be out of a job.”
“What department are you in Martha?”
“Chief Security Office.” The Chief Security Office oversaw the network security needs of the company as well as providing guidance for newly developed products for customers. One of my certifications was in internet security.
“Aren’t you technical?”
“Kind of, but I still need to constantly be training to stay relevant. Ladies, let’s begin.”
It was a beautiful fall afternoon and although the room was looking rather worn and used, the afternoon sun was warming. The ladies were in good spirits and my two helpers, Manoj, a 30 some odd year old programmer, father of two, and Michelle, an Environmental Specialist who stars in musicals in her free time (god knows where she finds the cycles for that!) were walking around the room. A retired female executive was auditing the class and taking notes.
I heard:
“Oh! this is fun!”
“I can’t wait to play this with my grandkids!”
“What a great way to teach this stuff!”
“I forgot how smart I used to be.”
And on that, “I forgot how smart I used to be,” I turned my back on the class and tried not to cry.
Nothing costs societies, across the globe, more money than an unwanted child. Even at 24, as immature as I was, I was somewhat pragmatic about money. Somewhere in somebody’s file, the CIA or the FBI, or perhaps both, there is a picture of a young woman, 24ish holding a cigarette and a latte, wearing a blazer, leather shoes, fake nails, and a scowl. This woman would be me “marching” in a pro choice march. Why was I scowling? I was scowling because I was working full time and putting myself through school. I had about 20 units left to go. And, and, why did I feel I had to protest in favor of getting health care? Isn’t everyone pro affordable health care?
I am 60 now and I have continued to participate in pro choice, uhm, gatherings over the years and at 27, I had an abortion myself. I have often imagined the discussion that might have transpired between the two analysts who might have been reviewing my file over the years.
Early Monday morning, Jim and Paul are reviewing tapes:
Paul: “Oh thanks for the coffee Jim.”
Jim: “No problem, Paul. Would you look at the scowl on that young woman’s face. What is she? 20? 25? shouldn’t she be out having fun or something? Why the hell is she even out there on a Saturday morning.”
Paul: Chuckles and says “She’s out there because she thinks that she can ‘make a difference ‘.”
Jim: “Oh right, like we thought we’d be making a difference when we became analysts or admin in a spy agency. Now that Suzie’s pregnant I’m just happy for the good medical benefits.”
Both men chuckle and make the appropriate notes in the file.
3 years later.
Jim: “Wait, haven’t we seen this one before Paul? Oh yeah, here she is. She’s been attending protests for years and now the pro life folks are protesting against her as she crosses their line to get into the clinic for an abortion.”
Paul: “Christ, Maureen was telling me that her friend Deborah went to get an abortion in Tennessee and they had armed guards outside the clinic. Armed guards! Can’t these people get jobs or something. Or, I know! Can’t they do something interesting that we can monitor?”
Jim: “I’m not sure which one we’re supposed to be monitoring, the pro life protesters or the pro choice protesters or the ones getting an abortion. Well, this one, this one’s ven diagram overlaps two of those.”
Paul: “I know. This is not a good day for her. Hey, who’s that person in the picture who dropped her off?”
Jim: “She looks like an aunt or something.”
Paul: “She looks stoned.”
Jim: “Good on her, this can’t be fun for anyone.”
Paul: “Well, how’s the baby?”
Jim: “Justin isn’t a baby anymore, he’s a toddler and doing great! We tried for a second one but there were some issues with the fetus and Suzie had to go in for a DNC.”
Paul: “What’s the difference between a DNC and an abortion Jim?”
Jim: “Hell if I know, but it’s been really tough on Suzie, losing that child. Tough on both of us, truth be told. But we have Justin and we’re keeping it together for him. We’re going to try again next year.”
13 years later.
Paul : “There’s our girl again. Didn’t she get married at some point?”
Jim: “Yeah, she did, to a Scotsman.”
Paul: “Foreigners! Take our jobs and steal our women!”
Jim: “Well, the file shows that he had a very flexible relationship with the job thing so he wasn’t stealing our jobs. Maybe that’s why our girl/woman got rid of him.”
Paul: “Hmmm. Wonder where he is now?”
Jim: “Back to his homeland it says here. Oh! it appears that she’s ditched the leather shoes and blazer. She’s becoming a bit of a slacker. Baseball cap, sunglasses, no more fake nails.”
Paul: “Shit, Jim, look at this! she’s working in cyber security, for the phone company no less.”
Jim: “Paul, maybe we should have gone to work for the phone company. Maybe we’d get more interesting spy work than watching these protesters on tape, year in, year out. I wonder what kind of spy stuff she gets to do.” Jim
Paul: “Well, the phone company does feed us quite a bit of our intel.”
Jim: “Mighty white of them, isn’t it?”
Paul : “Yeah. Jim ? You know I’m black, right?”
Jim: “I do.”
2017
Paul: “God these people are relentless.”
Jim: “They are. I don’t know how they find the energy”
2021
Paul: “Well, Jim, I’m retiring next week”
Jim: “Me too, me too. Thank God we don’t live in Texas. DC has been hard enough with constant politics but I’m starting to believe that the Texans are crazy!”
Paul: “You know better than that Jim, it’s a few that make the most racket.”
Jim: “And the laws.”
Paul: “True that. And here’s our girl. She’s a grandmother now, you know. ”
Jim: “I wonder if she still thinks that she’s making a difference. “
Paul: “I wonder.”
That’s how I imagine how that conversation would go. I don’t think most people care or even want to think about abortion. Most people just want to let others live their lives in peace.
I am selling a pin with the suffragette colors on etsy. Eighty percent of the proceeds will be donated to women’s health organizations. Make me an offer.
Indeed, good for you doctor, good for you. I had emailed because I was having trouble with “vaginal dryness”. Ugh, vaginal dryness sounds so barren, but that’s what I am now, barren. Jules had said that there were hormones for this and Dr. J, had concurred but he said it was time for me to come in for a checkup so why didn’t I book an appointment and he’d prescribe the meds then.
There was something else that I had been wanting to discuss with Dr. Jones and this would be a good time to do that. When I was going through pre-menopause, or perimenopause I had quite a time with being cranky. I had to end conference calls early, before we had addressed all of the action items because the men were just too infuriating. I’d hang up and say to myself, was John Pryor being more annoying than usual? No, he was his usual self. Was Walt Bingham more “knowing” than usual? Nope. Was Cass more pompous? Not at all, he was his usual charmingly pompous self. So why? why? Were they getting on my nerves? The best I could come up with was hormonal changes. My period had started to become inconsistent and I was having a bit of an issue getting enough sleep and I WAS CRANKY. I mentioned this to my next door neighbor and she had been having these issues as well, but her doctor had given her something for it. I went in to Dr. Jones and asked him to do something for me. He had me take a blood test and since I was not in *the range* for menopause he had nothing but prozac to give me. I was already on prozac so it was suggested that I up my dose. Although I did do this, it wasn’t really the solution. Anyhow, I’m through menopause now, for the most part, the moods have evened out and I wanted to let Dr. Jones know what had transpired in the hope that he, as “one who caters to the health of women” could use this information to help other patients who had experienced the same thing.
Dr. Jones is my age? maybe a few years older. He’s done quite a bit of volunteer work in the community with abused women. He owns a halfway house for recovering women. I had mentored one of the women who had gone there. A friend of mine had been going to him for years. I’ve been going to him for years. He’s usually pretty jolly and goes up and down with being a bit fat. Sometimes his pants need hemming, sometimes his lab coat has a coffee stain. He’s one of those comfortable looking people.
Anyhow, I’m in the stirrups, set position for a pap smear if you will, and I start to tell Dr. Jones about how I felt I should have had some treatment for my menopause symptoms when I was having trouble, something for him to think about with his other patients. I was matter of fact, not mean, not sarcastic. I think he had made a bad call and needed to know it. He taps my knee and says “hold on just a second” he turns towards the window, which I am just now noticing, has the blinds up. Oh, but the windows must be tinted. Did that person walking across the street just look up into this window and spill his Starbucks all over himself? I think he did. Dr. Jones turns towards the window, arms up over his head and says, “Thank God I was born a man!”
Oh.
He then turns back to me and says that all of the gynecologists coming up behind him, “I am a dinosaur”, are women and that they should be able to figure this out. And yes, “Menopause is hell.”
Well.
He then proceeded to tell me what he was doing for Thanksgiving and asked me about my holiday plans while he continued with the exam.
Time for a new OBGYN.
Tom, my husband, has found this so hilarious that he has taken to spontaneously throwing his arms over his head and exclaiming “Thank God I’m a man!” on his way to the bathroom, or getting coffee, even tying his shoelaces…
Last week was a week and next week is going to be a week as well. I will be delighted to have this boot off of my foot. Just delighted. A month of no real exercise and I’m a bit stir crazy. I know that some people just go forever without exercise and they’re all good with it. I so don’t get that. I just don’t get it. And the spoiler alert is that everything did turn out fine.
On Tuesday, I had a mammogram. And it was the same gal I’ve gotten a mammogram from for the the last three years. I’m sure she doesn’t recognize me from year to year, I’m just another set of breasts coming through, but she’s always delightful and chatty and she’s the only one doing my breasts, so of course, I remember her. Perhaps I was imagining her being quiet, I don’t know, but that night I got a call and an email to make a second appointment with the Martinez clinic. I was told that I had to go to the Martinez campus because they could give me the results of the mammograms while I was there.
Off I went on Thursday, to Martinez, to the Hacienda building. The appointment was for 11:40. They had me change into a hospital gown and wait in a room that had a fountain, snacks and a Keurig machine. I think that they were going for a spa feel: trying to ease the tension for these women who were being tested for cancer. There were three other women in the, like a spa but not, “Women’s Restorative” room, and they were looking kindof glum. One of them was an old woman who was very scared. All that I could get from her mutterings was that a family member had died of cancer and she just didn’t know, just didn’t know what she was going to do if she had cancer. Fair enough, it’s not the best way to spend time.
I was called in by a radiologist tech who was lovely. She had a turban/scarf type of thing with a knot in the front and some lovely tattoos, she was charming. A bunch of pictures were taken and then back to the “Women’s Restorative” room I went.
It’s 12:30 now.
I waited and had a snack, lowfat granola bars, and was called back in by another women who took more pictures. This radiologist was about my age, short red hair and the cut, the cut on that hair was PERFECT. I haven’t worn my hair that short in a while but it takes a good cutter to get one that PERFECT.
“Front, left side, right side, lean a bit forward, hold your breath now breathe. “
Ok, fine and back to the, like a spa, but not, “Women’s Restorative” room I went again.
1:00
The original appointment was for 11:40 and we’re running past 1:00 now. I’m getting hungry.
Two radiologists have had their lunch and I’m on my third technician. The third one speaks English as a Second language. I can’t tell if her first language is Mexican or Tagalog. Regardless, she too, has a lovely demeanor and I’m really hoping that this will be the last set.
Lots of pictures being taken and sent to the doctor who is viewing them in another room on a different screen. At one point the technician, in positioning me, darn near scrapes my sternum up between “the paddles” YIKES! That’s not part of the breast!
Extra pictures need to be taken of my right breast and she puts a pink glittery pasty thingamajig on my right nipple and continues to squish and click away. She’s having me pull my gown back because she thinks that it is causing distortion on the pictures.
She tells me that something just isn’t quite right, there’s some sort of shading on the picture, “would you like to take a look?”
“Sure, I’ll see if I can help you out.”
Well, the line, was the shadow being cast between my very squished right breast, and my right shoulder. Also, the top of my jeans was somehow floating off of the bottom of the xray.
Oh! and yes, we sure can see the nipple in the picture now, now that it has that pasty on it. And… keep in mind, I still have the boot on my left foot from the hammertoe surgery from earlier this month.
I was proud of myself for not saying something about how the top of my jeans could not have been distorting the pictures because, after all, the stomach is not anywhere near the breast and has no way of photobombing these photos even if it tried.
I showed the technician how the shadow was on all of the photos (only not as pronounced, as I was not being, uhm, positioned so enthusiastically before)
And, I could only wonder how it would have looked to someone looking in on this. The patient, pasty clad nipple pronounced, while gown is off of right shoulder, hand on hip, pointing out bits and pieces of my bits and pieces to the technician.
At some point the doctor pokes her head in and thanks me for being a “good sport”.
1:30
I’m allowed to dress and told to go into the “consult” room which is next to the like a spa, but not, “Women’s restorative” room. The consult room has a lovely couch with throw pillows, a plastic cross section of the breast but no snacks. I’m really hungry now.
The doctor comes in and tells me that there are calcified cells in both breasts. One cluster is two centimeters and one is three centimeters. Because I have fibrous breasts there is not a lot of contrast between the calcified clusters and the rest of the breasts in the photo. If there were more of my breasts or more fat in my breasts the photos would have been easier to read. The calcified cells have nothing to do with how much calcium I consume. When I tried to make a joke, “so if I had more breast to photograph, if they were bigger had a bit more fat it would have been easier to read the photos?” The doctor’s response was “no, fat is bad”. Ok, then.
The doctor asked if I had any experience with lanacane or topical numbing agents and I replied, “like what they use when I get botox and filler? sure, not an issue” again, not a smile.
The biopsy technician came in with a basket of snacks, lowfat granola, baked potato chips and bruised fruit. Yeah! And tried to give me an overview of what she would be doing, unfortunately all of her pamphlets were in Spanish, but, the gist is, I’ll be lying on a table with a hole in it and they reach under and take a biopsy. I’ll have this done on both breasts.
This may already be more information than you want, but there’s a wee bit more. Tom was working from home that day and when I came home he was concerned that it had taken soooooo long. Fair enough, it had taken long. His response was that of an engineer, problem solving male.
“You know what? that might be good for you! the no breast thing! and I love you!” he then enveloped me in a bear hug and then went back to work.
I think I”ll be fine, no cancer in my family history, but next week the schedule goes:
Monday – botox/filler
Tuesday – pins taken out of my foot and boot comes off
Wednesday – lots of bubble baths
Thursday – biopsy (no bubble baths for 3 days)
Friday – hair cut.
I should have the results sometime the following week.
After surgery
Went to the oncologist today. They really treat you with kid gloves in that department. It’s as if, as if, they have to give quite a few people really bad news. The stationary in the the cancer packet they gave me was decorated with confetti, like the invitation to a little kid’s birthday party, but it still, just didn’t get to that party feel.
The doctor came in. I’m pretty sure she was from China. She had on some ballet flats with no show socks that showed, alot. She had a little kid’s barrette in her hair. She was accompanied by a Physician’s Assistant, who was gorgeous and dressed, well, like a professional. They both greeted me with the double hand handshake. You know, the handshake with a comforting hand on top of it? that one. The doctor opens up my file on the computer and she squints at the screen and then she looks at me and back to the screen again and says “this is a horrible picture! I wouldn’t even be able to recognize you from this. Get another one taken.” The PA winces and I say, “Ok”.
The doctor then goes through the different proactive medical treatments that I can avail myself of, if I wish. The mass was benign and no cancer was found but just by virtue of having that mass puts me in a higher risk category for having cancer and there are some, steps that you can take if you want to be more proactive. The medication she mentioned had some severe side effects and I can’t remember all of the details. It didn’t seem to me that her heart was really in it for these treatments either but she had to make sure that I knew about them. She then looks up from my chart and says, “you don’t take much medication.”
I replied, “no, the bulk of what you’re seeing is wrinkle cream”
I knew the day would come when I would not be able to run anymore. I was a long distance runner for forty years. It was my go to for handling stress. Bad day at work? I went for a run. Argument with my boyfriend, husband, mother, shopkeeper? Go for a run. A new promotion and barely able to contain my excitement? Go for a run. Newly engaged? run; Newly divorced? run; A couple of years ago I had to have surgery on my left foot and I can’t run anymore. The knees, the hips and the feet complain. So the day has come and I’m a mature woman now. I can deal with life’s little ups and downs without literally running around. Right?
We are coming up on a year into the pandemic and I really want to go for a long run. The last twelve months have brought, out of control wildfires, a coup attempt and the very real risk of losing our democracy. I retired six months ago and Tom, my husband, retired four months ago. We like each other and somehow, our portfolio has continued to grow during this turbulent time in history. So it doesn’t all suck, but I continue to have some anxiety which I thought would be 100% relieved once the new administration came into office.
Things I have done during the last year to keep my spirits up. I bought eyeshadow. I wore eyeshadow as a young woman but rarely wear it anymore as an “adult”. I had to use a magnifying glass in addition to my reading glasses to read the back of the color palette before I could apply it. I bought some new perfume from Avon. Don’t laugh, Avon has good perfumes and they’re affordable. Tom came through the living room the other day and looked at his perfumed well made up wife reading on the couch with her dog, her dog who smells literally like a seal, and just gave me a startled look. “What?” I asked. “Oh nothing, nothing,” he responded, giving me a backward glance as he passed through the living room.
Now, I walk a lot. Tom and I walk 8 miles three days a week and then I walk at least 4 on the other days. Walking is a “safe” way to socialize during the pandemic.
I’m in a writing group with some very talented writers and this has been wonderful and awful at the same time. It’s harder work than I realized and even when I’m not writing anything of substance it seems to be a slightly soul wrenching exercise.
I’d like to go see the grandkids in New Jersey. I’d like to have coffee with Julie and P. I’d like to josh around with Julie’s boys and go backpacking with Frances. I’d like to take a trip to celebrate retirement with my husband.
I’ve taken up playing tennis again. This has literally been hit or miss, no pun intended. Fewer courts are available than I remember from when I played so many decades ago and my game is quite rusty.
I took a tennis lesson last week and it was really great. Bam! Bam! Bam! I was hitting balls and the young instructor was responding with a guttural “Yes!” each time I hit the ball correctly. I’m 59 years old and I really thought that I would have developed a more zen approach to anxiety than literally running around and or hitting things by now…
So it’s all good, all good really. The coup didn’t materialize. I have money in the bank. A vaccine for the covid 19 has been developed, and in less than a year! And it is being administered. But still.
The hammertoe on my right foot is starting to bother me. I went to Kaiser on Monday to get my second shingles shot and have the right foot x-rayed. As I’m leaving the building a man, about 45, white, is giving two young nurses, one Black, one Mexican, both darling, a hard time for taking his temperature and asking him the standard questions they must ask before letting him into the building. He’s laughing and saying, ‘fine, yes, I’m fine, how are you?” in a snarky way. He’s bullying them. “Oh, ok, sure” he responds as they ask him, “Sir? could you please pull your mask up over your nose?” I’m watching this dickhead as I leave the building and I’m thinking. I should just stop and give him a good kick up the butt. I’m wearing cowboy boots, I have strong legs but I can’t remember which foot is my good foot for keeping balanced.
I knew the day would come and I really thought I would be more mature by now, that I wouldn’t feel compelled to run around and hit things when I’m under stress or feeling free floating anxiety. That’s what I thought. But, I’m not.
Fairy tales are… horrifying. About five years ago, my Mom sent me a print of little red riding hood facing off with the big bad wolf.
In the print, little red is about ten years old. She has on a dark red peacoat and a dark red knit cap with a little white pom pom on it. She has dark hair. She is wearing ankle high hiking boots with red socks. She is wearing an expression on her face, not of anger, not of fear and not of defiance but merely of acceptance as she looks over her shoulder at the wolf. She is holding an AK47.
When I opened the print I laughed out loud. Hope for the best and be prepared for the worst. Don’t be mad if the wolf threatens you, that’s what wolves do. Just be prepared.
When I called Mom to thank her she said, “Well, it is your color, that red.”
I ordered a t-shirt with the print on it and gave it to a friend of mine who was working at Homeland Security at the time. She loved it, of course.
I showed the print to an engineer I was working with. He is a right wing and he lives in North Carolina and in spite of our differences we had always worked very, very well together.
When he saw the print he said, “Martha that is so you and did you notice she has a secondary?”
“What”?
“A secondary in her basket. She has a Glock in her basket.”
“Oh my GOD I missed that! Thanks Chris for pointing that out.”
“Well, thank you for sharing the picture with me Martha, it made my day. Really, always a pleasure.”
“You as well Chris, you as well.”
This year, I couldn’t believe that Mom actually sent up a Christmas box. There’s an awful lot of crap in the box, always, and a few Christmas decorations. The usual assortment of paperbacks that she’s already read, my favorite, and this year there was an extension on the little red riding hood theme. One was a pen and ink print of a baby red riding hood sleeping safely in the tail of the wolf as the wolf howls at the moon. The red cap is the only thing in the print with color. There was a pair of fun red riding hood socks as well. The capper was a refrigerator magnet that had little red riding hood and the wolf enjoying a picnic tea on a blanket. There is a rose in a bud vase and they are drinking tea from a cup and saucer. Red riding hood has a little bottle of poison off to the side, out of sight of the wolf, just in case…
I know that there have been theses written on the symbolism of Little Red Riding Hood. The loss of innocence, the dangers that young girls face. I delight in the depiction of little red taking her power. The AK47 and the Glock, the little bottle of poison. But I still miss, in my heart, that the loss of innocence has to come so early for so many.
