n o w p l a y i n g - s c r i p t b i n - f a n c l u b - s t u d i o

make love to the camera



February 06, 2040 - 8:55 am

Cancer Points

I made an attempt at writing an entry a few days ago. You're thankful, though, that it didn't work out, as it was shaping up to be long. Hopefully, I'll be able to offer you bite sized tidbits o'Bill, as to only whet your appetite for more, instead of force feeding you a big long main course of three weeks of missed entries.

Between being stranded for two days in small town outside of St. Louis, a family member dying of cancer in the other room, a lesbian fistfight on a Greyhound bus, and meeting my mom's transsexual lawyer (male to female, for the curious amongst you) my life is starting to look like something out of a Bill Burman novel.

THE DRIVE HOME
- or -
SNOW IN ARIZONA

Yep, in Flagstaff! And here I thought it was all desert.

As we left Los Angeles and got on the 10, I said "Goodbye, surface streets!" and we immediately hit a large traffic jam. Once we were finally out of greater LA, I learned that the pretty parts of Southern California are sadly only mostly witnessed as one drives to Las Vegas.

And so ended my time in Los Angeles.

We saw the Barringer meteor crater in Arizona. My brother and I forked over 12 bucks apiece to stare at this awesome hole in the ground. It was actually really beautiful. When the park ranger (it's a national landmark) asked us how we'd heard about the place, I said "We landed here."

No reply. Barry thought she might have heard that one a few thousand times.

We made it to Amarillo, Texas on the second night. But not before breezing through all of New Mexico all in one day. We stayed in a Motel Six that was more like a three, and ate many Krispy Kremes while driving the next morning.

The third night, we stayed in St. Louis. It was either that, or press on home to Chicago and arrive at 2am or so. We thought we'd stay one more night, see the arch in the morning, and give ourselves an easy five hour drive the next day. And it's a good thing we did, too, because otherwise, my car would have died somewhere in the middle of Illinois at some godforsaken hour instead of 30 miles outside St. Louis the next morning.

Yep. My 1997 Geo Metro almost made it.

We stayed overnight, the mechanic insisting he'd have it fixed by noon tomorrow. Noon tomorrow came and went, and Barry and I were driven to the St. Louis bus stop. You read about that in the last entry.

Which brings me to the 115am friday Greyhound bus trip I took to finally (three weeks later) retrieve my car (and 80% of my stuff) during which I witnessed the lesbian fist fight. And, sadly, this was no male fantasy, pillow fight in lingerie leading to making out kind of brawl. This was everyone on the bus yelling at these two to shut the fuck up so they could sleep event.

A weird looking Irish guy declared himself the peacemaker at the one stop the bus made. He went outside, calmed the two down, and came back to announce his results to the entire bus, began his address "Attention Greyhound passengers..."

He was roundly mocked the rest of the trip.

I, for my part, slept through most of this. Thank you Vicodin!

MY MOM'S TRANSSEXUL ATTORNEY
- or -
TONY CAMPENETTI IS NOW JILL ROSA QUINT

He actually doesn't make for a bad looking woman. And it was interesting to see that he went for the big rack. If I were going to change my sex, I would too. No one gets a sex change operation to be an a-cup.

In summary, I now have power of attorney. Let my reign of terror begin.

MOM
- or -
I HAVE CANCER AND I'M A BIG BABY AND I CAN'T SHUTUP ABOUT IT WAH WAH WAH

OK, I'm clearly going to hell for that joke.

But, yeah...she's sick, you know? Tired, on about five different pain medications. Morphine, Vicodin, others I'm not even sure about. I spend most of my time with her, but we don't do much. She can't eat, really, and lives off a few bottles on Ensure per day. She has a tumor at the top of her stomach that keeps her from eating most solid foods.

When she's awake, we talk, or watch tv. Surprisingly, I still haven't seen every episode of Law & Order even though it's on 19 times a day. She also loves Fear Factor, and she likes to talk about which stunts she would have liked to do. Apparently, my mom would have loved to drive a race car off a building and into some cardboard boxes.

We've talked about blowing some of our inheritance and going on a cruise, but...

MOM: I don't know...Who'll take care of the dogs and the cat while we're gone?
BILL: Well, anybody, really. Anybody will do anything for you, now.
MOM: That's true. I have cancer points.
BILL: You have a million cancer points, mom.

Not to mention that going on a cruise would be hard as she sometimes takes a nap after getting dressed.

ME
- or -
I SLEEP ON A HOSPITAL BED SET UP IN THE LIVING ROOM

That's right! No more couch for me!

My mom moved to a very very tiny house before I moved to Los Angeles. Our old place, my childhood home, was sprawling and gigantic. My parents bought it cheap thirty years ago, when the neighborhood it was in wasn't great. Now it's home to Starbucks and high property taxes, and since her kids were grown, she figured a smaller place would be fine.

Now we've got four humans, two large dogs, and a cat in a two bedroom house. I feel like I can't move anywhere without kicking some life form out of my way.

My mom entered hospice and they brought her a hospital bed and a wheelchair. She doesn't care for the hopsital bed, so I sleep in it. In the living room. My brother Barry has the second bedroom, and my brother Bob has the basement, so here I am. Mom cleared out some space for my clothes in her closet and one of her dressers.

It's been strange, to say the least, to go from having a career, my own place, and money, to having none of those things.

Between that and my mom's illness, you'd think I was miserable...I'm not, though. I have a lot of friends here, and I'm spending time with them. I'm spending time with my mom that I know I won't have the option to do someday soon. Not to sound too trite, but...coming to terms with this whole mortality thing...it really does change your life.

I mean, we all know that our time here is finite, but when we really know it...well, I'm not even sure if I can explain how it feels. I know that if I casually read that on someone's little webpage, it wouldn't truly sink in. But it's amazing how it sinks in when it's happening to your family.


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