Fuh real?

So, remember how this blog used to be (sometimes) funny (or at least aiming for that) and then last year we found out my mom had cancer and then all of sudden this turned into an account of her illness and then she died and I couldn't do this anymore and when I did finally come back I was inconsistent with posting and told you that I really didn't know the direction that this blog was going to go because I really didn't know what direction life was heading in?

Well, I certainly didn't expect to be doing any U-turns.

A new situation has arisen and the storyline rivals the most contrived of Lifetime movies.

Ten days ago, out of nowhere, my dad had a seizure.

Then an MRI showed that he had a tumor the size of a cell phone in his brain.

Then he had brain surgery.

Then he had complications from brain surgery which left him unable to speak.

Now he is at a rehab hospital in Boston hoping to reacquire verbal and language skills that will take two weeks to a year (from what I've heard from thee of the vague timeline) to return completely.

We're still waiting on the pathology report to get the story on the tumor though either chemotherapy or radiation will be the likely course of action.

All this in 10 days.

Less than four months after losing my mom.

To quote one of my sisters, "We've been leveled."

It's a situation that has not yet totally sunken in, so organizing my thoughts into neat paragraphs is not even an option. I just figured I would throw an update up to explain what may or may not be a Spew disappearance. The possibility exists that as things settle and we know what we are dealing with, keeping things up here will be manageable. But the idea of documenting another parent's illness (in addition to witnessing it...again) seems too daunting a task right now for this tired, broken body.

I'm not trying to dangle any carrots here, I just don't know what will be. Earth has gone and flipped on its axis (again) in the last 10 days so there's no knowing what the next 10 (the next five...) will bring.

This is the shit drug habits are born from, that's all I'm saying. So, whether I can keep up with this blog is an unknown.

For now I'll say that in ER/House terms my dad seems "stable." He is there mentally and can understand all that is happening but is working to learn how to "turn on his voice," and also express spontaneous thought according to the docs and speech therapists we've seen. That's the post-surgery story. We're still in the dark about the brain tumor. Brain tumor...fuck.

The Oscars are on tonight. Without Meryl Streep in the race, my heart is only half in it. (Also, the whole tumor thing.) Still, I'll tune in. It could provide a little distraction or even a shred of comfort. How could I possibly feel any connection right now to an orgy of back-patting Hollywood elite? Pretty easily. Sandra Bullock had a shit year, too.

A Will-You-Do List

Will somebody come to my apartment and do my laundry? I’m down to only thongs for undies and this is not my comfort zone. I have two waist-high mountains of dirty clothes and not an ounce of motivation.

Also, will someone cook the pork loin that’s sitting in my fridge looking like horse genitalia and skeeving me out? If I don’t cook it today it’s gonna have to be tossed and generally speaking if I have to handle the meat, then I am unable to eat it later on. (That’s what she said.)

Also, could someone come over and balance our household budget so I know what my spending cap is for psychic readings this month?

And could someone come wash my kitchen floor? I ate sardines again today (no, seriously, they’re not bad) and some of the olive oil/lemon sludge that they’re packed in was flung onto various spots of the floor and I’m doubtful the half sheet of paper towel that I dedicated to cleaning it up really did the job.

Could you take care of the bathroom too? The other day I broke a glass bottle filled with beach sand and shells that sits atop the counter and though I took a hand vacuum to it, I’m pretty sure there are still shards of glass scattered on the floor. (I didn’t tell Dan this because I didn’t think he was at risk...I mean who walks around barefoot in a bathroom of all places?)

And could you go to the gym for me? It’s been a few days and I can see a rectangle Pop Tart protruding from my saddlebags.

I did manage my own showering today though...wait, no I didn’t. I actually thought I did and then realized it was an untruth. After the gym should be fine for that...please moisturize.

Also, could you vacuum, dust, clean off the kitchen table, write a best-seller, return my library books (yeah, I go to the library...wanna make something of it?), call my friends back, handle the e-mails, bring the trash bag of clothes sitting in the center of my bedroom to Goodwill, put the spoffice that I tore apart Sunday back together and pick up a birthday present for a 30th birthday party I will be attending this weekend?

Or maybe you could just do the laundry?