Ode

This was going to be a post about a wonderful dessert called "Maddie's Wacky Apple."  But circumstances have dimmed the apple's importance.

Found out tonight that my wonderful friend A. is scheduled for a cesarian tomorrow.  This is about three weeks earlier than her due date and things have not been going well for her.  Right now there is a clot forming near her heart.  And I'm scared.  I think we all are.  A. is one of the most incredible people I have ever known.  She's dynamic and intelligent.  Beautiful and hilarious.  Loyal and protective.  One of those people who everyone wants to be around, like a sun with many planets circling her.  She's also has one of the biggest hearts of anyone I know, and her warmth and kindness have changed the lives of so many people.  I've really only been close to her for about a year, and yet I feel like I've known her forever.  And her friendship has gotten me through some difficult times.  She can always make me smile, chortle, cry from laughter, and, now, cry with worry.

The only thing that seemed to lighten the fear is a text I received from another pregnant close friend, J.  J, turns out, is in labor tonight.  There's a strange meaningfulness in this for me.  I have always said that A reminds me of J, who I have been friends with for many, many years.  From the outside, they are as different as different can be.  J is gentle and often quiet, while A is often raucous and a born storyteller.  J is very proper, while A is more of a rebel - covered in tattoos.

Yet, they are both the most thoughtful people I know.  Being around them is like being around a rainbow.  They each have a similar grace and light.  Each is a source of strength, happiness, and joy.  And they are both some of the truest friends a woman could be blessed to have.

I think there is a reason J. went into labor tonight.   Like somehow, even though they are miles away, they are in this together.  Giving each other strength and support through the difficulties.

Two women.  Different, but also the same.  Giving birth to children who will likely share a birthday and hopefully become friends.  And one day, be there for each other when life becomes difficult.

I'm looking forward to meeting these children.  With mothers like theirs', they will be very special children indeed.

Smell My Finger

Part of the reason I started this blog was because I was about to have to go through some strange procedures to deal with my chronic pelvic pain.  The short and much less boring version of the story is that, for the past 3 years, wayyy too many doctors have examined my private areas trying to find the culprit of the pain.  This culminated in December with a surgery that required my legs to be splayed in the air at a weird angle while doctors did things that would be illegal in some southern states, I'm sure.  I have lost any hope of modesty.

The best part of this was the discovery that the humiliating experience didn't do anything.  So, the residents who did the surgery suggested . . . pelvic physical therapy.

As much as those words make you think of a pelvis in leggings and stretching to "Let's Get Physical," it honestly sounds horrifying when described.  My hubby told me to start a blog called "Smell My Finger" to at least make people, and myself, laugh about it.  Believe it or not, the blog title, "Smell My Finger," was taken.

On a good note, I am going to cancel my first scheduled probing because the pain doctor wants to try something first.  That something would be sticking large needles into my groin area in an attempt to do a nerve block.  "Smell My Finger" now seems like a dream come true, eh?

So, this means two more doctors are going to be messing with areas people should never attempt pierce with a long needle.  Probably while I'm immodestly dressed and on so much Valium I start doing line kicks.

At this point, don't you think at least ONE of these doctors should have bought me dinner?

Mush brain.

Cats are unusual creatures.  I have always been a dog person.  I'm a cuddler, so the idea of an entity that is devoted to me, adores me, and greets me with such happiness is without compare.  Then we got a cat.

I think you get dogs for constant companionship and adoration.  You get cats to have a return to that feeling you had when the high school quarterback noticed you in the hallway and called you by the wrong name.  Yes, he called you "Laura," but he TALKED TO YOU!  That excitement to be singled out . . . that feeling of never knowing if you will be noticed, but knowing it could happen any moment . . . the drama of possibly being rebuffed, but also possibly being adored . . . that is why we get cats.  

When a cat deigns to sit on your lap, you feel like you've been chosen.   When the cat turns her head and bites her sharp teeth into a fleshy part of your hand, you long for those old days of purring companionship.

The unknown.