Day After

They've decided to put me on anti-nausea pills round the clock, so I have to take one of the pills ever 6 hours. Actually, I wish they had told me to do this weeks ago, because today really wasn't too bad. I actually had an appetite today, and the pills kept me from feeling gross. Right now I feel a little sick and light-headed, but that's because I need to take another dose.

B/f came up last night and I can't say I was very good company... I went to sleep around 7; my Mom woke me up at 10 till 10 to ask how I was feeling and to remind me that there was a new Law & Order on, and so I got up to watch that, then I went back to sleep, and slept the sleep of the dead.

Well, except for the 4 times Kitteh wanted in and out. And of course C didn't manage to hear any of the times the cat wanted in or out. Of course. *Sigh*

I was sleepy for a lot of today, but while I was up, I watched Evan Almighty. It wasn't very funny, but it was kind of cute, so it was a nice diversion.

Anyway, here are a few more new pictures of His Highness. I thought you might enjoy seeing how handsome he is lately.

So, He Apologizes

B/f was very apologetic. And it was nice to see him. It would have been better if he showed up on Sunday, but whatever. Honestly, I don't know what this weekend thing was about, but I talked to him about the importance of compromise, and maybe, just maybe he gets it.

Stupidities

B/f just called me, told me he was spending the night tomorrow. And I told him that I was disappointed that he couldn't be bothered to come and see me before tomorrow. I said that he could have left the conference at noon today; he could have been here by dinner time, and that I needed him, but apparently that didn't seem to matter to him.

I reminded him that every week, I go get chemo by myself, I'm exhausted by myself, and I'm sick by myself, and that he has not once spent any time with me after I've gone in for chemo. And he cried and got all emotional and started calling himself names, and I told him that I wasn't trying to blame him, but I feel pretty insignificant, totally second fiddle, to that conference he went to. I also reminded him that if he comes tomorrow and stays the night, I still have to leave the house at 8 a.m. in order to get to work on Tuesday, and we're hardly going to have any time together.

I told him I was pissed. What I should have said is that I don't want to see him tomorrow. Because I feel like his coming tomorrow for that brief visit is to assuage his guilt, and frankly, that's not going to fix things for me. But more than that, I'm pissed at myself because I should have told him yesterday when he mentioned what all the day's plans for today were that I needed him here. So once again, this is really my fault too, and that REALLY pisses me off.

Because I know he has no common sense. I know he can't read minds. So I should have expressed to him what my needs were, because maybe then I would have had a shot of getting them met. But I think I was just so stunned that he really didn't seem to understand how much I needed him that I let him do what he wanted to do (hang with those people from the conference), and in the process got infuriated.

As always, I am equally culpable. But honestly... how bright do you have to be to figure out your girlfriend needs help those first several days after a round of chemo? He could have gone to half the conference and spent the other half of the weekend with me. You know, if he had cancer, and I wanted to go to a conference that was not necessarily germane to my being, I think I would have blown the conference off and spent the weekend with him. But maybe that's just me.

I'm so disappointed. I expected better. But this is my fault too. And that's just as upsetting.

He Called

He called me at 11. He's fine. I wanted to yell at him, but instead I cried.

Call Me Paranoid

This morning at 3:06 a.m., Boyfriend sent me a text message that said, "Oh god, I love and miss you." It woke me up out of a dead sleep. I went to the bathroom, and called him back. No answer. I called 4 more times, and texted him back. No answer.

I was awake from 3 till 6, when I finally fell back asleep. I have called him 3 times this morning. Why isn't he answering?

He has never texted me before in the middle of the night. In fact, he doesn't text me at all because he knows each text message costs me 15 cents. So why, last night, does he do this? I've watched a hella lot of Forensic Files, and all I can think is that was his last message to me before someone killed him. Maybe that's a little on the crazy side, but why hasn't he called me back?

Ok, ok, you might say, maybe he got drunk last night and texted me, and he's sleeping in. But the fact of the matter is he's gone to that Students for a Democratic Society conference in Tuscaloosa, AL, and all the sessions started this morning at 8 or 9.... so he'd have to be up for that, right?

I am really, really panicky right now. This just isn't like him. I don't know what to do. Call, dammit. Call me.

This & That

This weekend I read some poems at a "Local Authors" reading. I didn't really want to, but I did because I was asked to. Well, alright, that's a complete lie. I was told, rather unceremoniously, in the middle of summer that I would be reading at this thing. If I had realized back in July that the 2nd was Labor Day weekend, I would have passed. As it was, I went, read 7 poems, and then headed down to visit B/f.

He and I had a good time, even if it was just for Sunday night and yesterday day. Of course the house was beyond the pale, but he had fresh sheets down, so I'll take what I can get. We had a good time with each other. I really do love the big goof.

In other news, today and tomorrow are more long days at the office. And then my Mom is coming in for a few days on Thursday. So after I do accumulated weeks of laundry tonight, I have to clean the house. It's not really bad--it never is--but it could use some straightening. As always, the stacks of crap on the coffee table need to be beat back from taking over the living room, and the bathroom needs cleaning. Nothing arduous, just a bit time consuming.

And I still have to do the reading and assignment stuff for tomorrow. Bleah. It's always something.

Poison for Dinner, Anyone?

How do you tell your boyfriend he can't cook, and that you'd rather eviscerate yourself with a rhinocerous horn than eat another one of his "specialties"?

I kid you not, his "eggplant parmesan" was the absolute most dreadful experiment in oil-soaked mushy eggplant, sans flavor, sans breading, and sans parmesan that I've even choked down in my life.

And this was our "anniversary" meal. Goddess help me, I thought I would die. Twice he's asked me if I liked it... and twice I've prevaricated along the lines of, "it's very different from the eggplant parmesan I've had before."

I would let this go as one of the relationship crosses I've had to bear, except he's told me that two lesbian friends of his are having a committment ceremony, and he's planning on "catering" (gasp, gag) their dinner with this..."food." I don't, in all conscience, know how I can allow him to ruin their special day with something so heinously bad. But I just don't know how I can tell him he can't cook.

I'm shuddering just thinking about all the leftovers that I have in the fridge. It's so nasty and vile, I don't even want to look at it in order to throw it out.

I know he thought he was doing a kind thing by cooking for our anniversary... but I really would have preferred to go out. Believe me, when he told me he decided he would cook, it took everything I had not to go and get the butcher knife and slit my wrists.

Meditative

I have been savoring a novel called The Mistress of Spices, by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni (Anchor, 1997), set in San Francisco, about an immortal woman whose mystical calling is to serve the spices in their magical aid to humans--for comfort, or harmony, or peace, etc., whatever the customers of her shop need.

It is, of course, a book about placing the spiritual needs of others above the physical desires of the self, and, in her attempt to help others, Tilo finds that she must not cut herself off from the world, though her calling requires her not to interfere in others' lives, just serve as the handmaiden of the spices to do their will.

And of course, the more involved in the outside world she becomes--for instance, she feels an attraction, perhaps even love, for the American--the less the spices speak to her. And I find that the more she is drawn away from her path, the less I want to read this book. I do not know if she will sacrifice her powers for earthly love, but I fear she might. And somehow, despite the richness and beauty of the book that I have read so far, I do not want Tilo to be yet another woman who must give up her dream, her soul, her being, her career for the fickle love of a man.

Perhaps, because there is a part of me who fears that very thing happening in my own life.

Booty Call (Heh Heh)

I drove down to see boyfriend in Neighboring Southern State on Saturday night, kind of out of the blue. I had talked to him earlier in the day, and he seemed a little puny, so even though I couldn't afford it, I drove down to see him. I waited up at the restaurant for him to clock out, drinking a margarita at the bar, and watching America's Got Talent without sound, because Bad 80's Music was playing loudly in the background. Who knew Sirius Radio had a Bad 80's channel?

Anyway, he and I talked and made love (it's always "making love" with him, he's such a romantic softy), and then yesterday morning we went to IHOP for breakfast.

I was really glad to see him. I've missed him bitterly.