Gene's Public Domain

He's baaaaaaaaaaack!

2009-05-08T16:52:50Z

Last night marked the arrival of the happiest damn bird in the world. He has shown up before and I am pretty sure I have complained RIGHT HERE IN THIS SPACE about him.

Dick seems to think he is a mockingbird, but those don't usually START singing at 10 p.m. and SING ALL NIGHT LONG! At about 3 a.m., I gave up and went into a bedroom across the hall and shut the door because his perch is in the tree right outside our bedroom window. At 7:15, when I left for work, he was still singing.

One of my work mates suggested he was a whippoorwill but I know the sound of that bird. This one has a repertoire that ranges from a hairdryer to a freaking marching band. He trills, he shrills, a makes swooshy sounds...holy cow, I just don't even know how to describe it all.

Dick asked me this morning if I wanted him to buy a BB gun. FOR ONE SPLIT SECOND....I thought that might be a good idea, but dammit...the bird sings with such joy, he sounds so freaking happy. In the light of day - like right now - I think about it, tell people about it, and it is kinda cute and funny.

Dear Lord....PUHLEEEZE let him be quiet tonight!

things I learned in Washington

2009-05-06T03:04:38Z

In my dotage I have become a political activist. I went to Washington DC to lobby for two bills important to the Komen Foundation. Being the fashion plate that I am (not) I didn't take anything that was appropriate.

I took spring-like clothes - and it was cold as hell. I took fashionable, but supposedly comfortable shoes (not) that were just a tad too big. We walked hundreds of miles and I had blisters where the shoes rubbed. I could have changed my name to Fanny Feet-hurt.

However, it was a wonderful trip. I got the opportunity to visit the office of the Majority Whip of the House, talk passionately about saving lives through cancer early detection, treatment and research, went to three different houses of the Smithsonian, and met some wonderful people.

Then I got back on Friday evening - went to a Kentucky Derby party; Saturday - paddled in a Dragonboat Festival and got a fantastic fake tattoo; Sunday - served communion at church; Monday - went back to work.

Our son Tommy told me I was too busy to be old. Don't you just love that???

I'm such a fashion plate

2009-04-04T03:30:42Z

Several years ago my sister sent me a really pretty lacy jacket. Iloved it and wore it over a plan black dress to a wedding. Only later did she tell me it was actually a beach cover-up and we have shared many laughs about this....with her and her youngest daughter.

Last week, she sent me a black dressy-thing. She called me and told me she had bought it in the lingerie department of Sears and it was a short night gown. She told me her daughter said, "Oh Lordy...Sista will probably wear this to a wedding, so be sure to tell her it is NOT a dress."

So today, I put it on with my pearls, pink pashima (I'm not sure that's the right word, and my sexy shoes. I got Dick to take a picture of me and I sent it to my sister and her daughter with this message. "Thank you so much for the dress! This is a picture of me getting ready to go my friend Lindsey's wedding. The dress goes so nicely with my pink pashmina (or whatever) and my fancy-dancy shoes." I let my sister in on the joke, but can't wait to hear what my neice thinks!

The fish miracle

2009-03-04T18:05:42Z

Saturday before last Dick and I decided to clean out the aquarium. Prior to doing this he took a sample of the water to a local aquarium expert and found out that it was entirely toooo acidic. The expert recommended that we change out half the water and put some of this stuff that he sold him into it.

At the time, we had only six fish...having killed the last 25 that I bought, including two pleikos, which cost about $3.00 each. All the rest of the fish were purchased for between 19-21 cents. We had four small hardy fish and one big Daddy...at least seven to eight inches long. He had been with us for about two years, having cost only 15 cents at purchase.

So we emptied half the water out of this 70 gallon tank, changed all the filters, put in the magic stuff, then refilled the tank. Sunday, I went to church, came back and dammit! Big Fish was swimming upside down. I burst into tears as our youngest son, Tommy, walked in behind me. I tearfully explained that I had managed to probably kill the darn fish..swimming upside down with his mouth wide open could NOT be good. Well, you know what, boys do not like to see their mamas cry. He became a bustle of energy. "We'll just empty the tank and refill it again," he suggested. "No, No," he said. "Give me a bucket and I'll take him to the pet shop." I think he might have done fishy cpr if I hadn't calmed down. Finally, he put a sheet over the aquarium so I couldn't watch this fish in his throes of death.

For a week he swam upside down. Tommy came by every other day to check on him and tell me tidbits he had picked up from researching fish that swim upside down. The fish would also float up to the top and lie lifeless next to one of the filters. Dick would go to get him so we could bury him (he's way to big to flush), but the moment he would touch the fish, the darn thing would start swimming.

Three days ago, he began swimming upright, opening and closing his mouth the way fish should, and looks fairly normal...whatever normal is when you are a big 15cent fish. I think we have had a miracle.

Disappearing entries

2009-03-03T20:20:15Z

Someone told me that people I write about might be identifiable, so I have hidden many of the entries until I can weed through them and make sure I am not embarrassing people by their association with me, or even worse, violating any privacy laws.

I am going to try today to re-read and make sure this is not happening...then keep hidden those entries that are suspect...and re-publish those that are not.

There are too many funny, quirky things happening in my life and I just have to write about them. So read at the risk of your own peril!

geneglave @ 2009-02-08T23:06:00

2009-02-09T04:10:08Z

I took half an Ambien about twenty minutes ago, so I should go to bed. If I don't I might eat, drink, or drive and never remember it the next day. Only kidding, I haven't driven. But Lordy I have eaten and I did drink.

What happens is after I've taken the Ambien, I wanderr into the family room and begin to watch inane television shows that I have dvr'd - such real classics as Underdog to Wonderdog, or another prize winner, Hell's Kitchen. Oh, Oh, and when I really get nuts, I'll dvr American's Top Model and watch the Biggest Loser at the same time, allowing myself to see anorexia and malignant over-eating together. Some times I doze off and wake up and I am ravenous. One night I ate 12 cookies and drank a beer. I hate cookies and I'm not real fond of beer. Last night I ate a bag of popcorn. Dear Lord.

After I finish this latest chapter of True Confessions, I think I will get in my bed and start my book. I don't do this crazy eating much, but enough to have gained back the 27lbs I lost during chemo....not the best diet to go on.

I know I'm lucky to be alive, but chemo and cancer suck:
a. My hair did NOT come back as pretty as it was
b. I can't drink Diet Coke or Pepsi because it STILL tastes like nails
c. Meat STILL tastes like dog-poop
d. My implant seems to be wandering to the left.
e. I still don't sleep worth a shit - even with AmbiaN
F. I wish someone would come and buy this house.

WHINE, WHINE, WHINE, WHINE..........but I think I might feel better.

I have no business there..........

2009-01-05T03:26:59Z

In the late 90's, I got to be in my first adult play - no, not porn, but the first time I had ever done any acting other than in theatre for children. Conveniently enough, the plays were done on the Isle of Palms, at a local bar, The Windjammer. We were part of Pluff Mud Productions and we presented really quality theatre with an amazing group of talented actors, some of whom grace the local Charleston stages and have gone on to perform professionally in other locales.

About a month or so ago (time flies when you're having fun - or when you're old), Dick mentioned that we ought to have a Pluff Mud reunion. We passed the idea on to a local favorite, Butch Sullivan; mentioned it on e-mail to a few other Pluff Mud alumni and the ball began to roll. I set up a Facebook account and started searching there along with my first director and exquisitely talented, Steve Lepre.

Facebook became fun and then I realized that I am probably the oldest person on this site...however, I have come across many of my friends and quite a few old friends that I value greatly, but sort of went out of my life. Steve and I met and he gave me a bunch of the programs from our Pluff Mud adventure and I started looking for people who were in casts and on crews and I actually found a few. Then I found a name and contacted this person about the reunion. I got a message back - "idk this." This was an immediate clue that this was NOT the person I was looking for. This person probably wasn't even BORN in the late nineties. And I was right. I sent a message further explaining the reunion and she let me know that I was definitely barking up the wrong tree. I have dishwashing sponges older than her.

I know I definitely have no business on Facebook (or My Face, as one of my friend's honey calls it - which brings up a whole new set of images!), but Lordy I am enjoying kibitzing with this glorious group that had fallen out of my life.

idk why it is so much fun, but it is!

December 26th

2008-12-26T06:02:03Z

We are 20 minutes into December 26th. About a hundred years ago it was the night before our wedding. We had met in mid-June - and we were babies, me less than 18 months out of teenage and Dick about 36 months out. He and his best friend, Eddie showed up at my apartment to see one of my roommates, Bunny, who had incredibly large and shapely breasts. Fortunately, she was out on one of her many dates, so they were stuck with me....until my date arrived.

By the time my date arrived, I had figured out there was something special about this dark-haired guy with such a twinkle in his eye and such a sexy aura. So, I convinced my date, who drove a Lincoln or some big car - but pre SUVs, that they were Bunny's cousins and really should hang out with us. My date, whose name was Freddy, was a nice guy so we all piled into the car-as-big-as-a-house along with my other roommate and just rode around.

By September, I was hooked. We went to Virginia Beach a couple of times and early in that month, after some dancing and drinking, I proposed to him on the beach. He didn't remember it the next morning, but I did....I remembered I had proposed, I can't remember his answer, so I improvised...and he believed me. We set a date for his Christmas break, still a little hungover and probably too stupid and horny to really think about the risks we were taking.

Both sets of parents were shocked. My mother-in-law thought I was pregnant, and MY mother was afraid that I was. So we hastily pulled together the wedding of the century - suffice to say the pipe organ broke, my father-in-law tripped over the cord to the portable organ and unplugged it in mid Lohengrin, the photographer did not take the lens cap off for any of the photos at the church, and the caterers continued cutting the lowest layer of cake and it fell over. And that is just a partial list of the major disasters. There is a whole 'nother layer of drunk fraternity brothers weeping out loud during the ceremony, and my father forgetting where he had parked our car.

By those omens, a betting man would not put much money on this marriage lasting. We had known each other seven months, we owned two cars, two footstools, and a host of blankets and other wedding gifts. Dick was in his last semester at college, I was $40 overdrawn at the bank and I was the one with the job. We lived in a three room house, I couldn't cook and had no domestic skills - Dick actually taught me how to knit from reading a book and I threatened to tell all his beer-drinking buddies if he pissed me off. And here's another kicker...I worked nights (yes, 11p.m. to 7 a.m.) as a brand new RN in charge on a 38 bed unit with a nurses' aide as my only co-worker.

We have sort of grown up together and I still adore him and I'm pretty sure the feeling is mutual. We have had some really rocky times - my inability to bear children; his incredible work ethic that often drove me crazy; moving to SC when my heart really wanted to stay in Virginia; a house fire thanks to Morelli Heating and Air (known as the "Problem Solvers") and I haven't forgiven them for that; Hugo; sons who have made some really good and really bad decisions; and cancer.

We have definitely lived in interesting times, but we have also been extremely blessed. We have so many incredible families. Our blood families. Mine is mostly in Virginia and they are quite wonderful. Dick's family reaches from Virginia westward to Arizona. His family reunions look like the Rainbow Coalition in colors, creeds and sexual orientation. I love that! Our immediate sons, daughter-in-law, grands, etc. We also have Dick's work family, my work family, our church family, his worship-at-the-church-of-the-holy-golf-ball-church family, our theatre friends, our island friends and our Dragonboat Charleston friends.

So, our many families - sometimes borne out of pain - more than make up for any perceived disasters that have happened in our lives. I would not trade one piece of furniture, artwork, clothes or whatever for one minute I spend with these friends. We went to a Dragonboat Christmas dinner tonight. Where else would I have been able to put a paper crown on my head, light candles with a loving friend, put them in the swimming pool, and cool my feet (and in the same moment, cool my hot flash) on December 25? Lordy, I'm blessed!

It's the suit

2008-12-20T20:48:43Z

A Christmas Story is playing at the Village Playhouse and at the end of each show Santa Claus comes out and has any children in the audience sit on his lap or he visits with those too shy to approach the stage. Keely and Dave own the theatre and are very dear to us, but I found out today how much Dick loves Dave - perhaps as his own son. Dave asked Dick to play Santa Claus at the matinee today.

We have Dick's golf party tomorrow, so there was much to do around here and in the yard - trim, poop patrol, mow, etc., and I don't do that. Thank God any insect bite sends me into an anaphylactic reaction, so I have a good excuse. I couldn't believe Dave talked Dick into the job...Dick, who does not 'do' theatre...Dick, who truly needed to clean up the yard. But, he agreed.

I was selling nekkid calendars at the Farmers' Market this morning, so I ran by the theatre before Dick made his debut, gave him a kiss, and watched as Dave began getting him dressed in his Santa suit. Dave and Keely's youngest, Piper, knows us well and watched as Dick was being transformed. As did another young child in the show. As soon as the costume was complete, Piper climbed into Dick's lap to tell him what she wanted for Christmas - having seen him as Dick Glave not fifteen minutes before. The other little fellow did the same.

Dick is still telling me stories about what the children said. Apparently American Girl dolls are big for the ladies and BB guns (about which the show revolves) are big with the guys. Other questions included, "Was Santa ever a baby?", "How old is Santa?", and "Does Santa wear glasses?" (Dick does).

He was definitely a reluctant Santa, but I know secretly he enjoyed it. And as for the magic - it is definitely in the suit!

decorations

2008-12-13T14:45:22Z

I've known my taste is questionable since 1975, when as young parents, we bought our first real house, which would accommodate what became a household of one human female, four human males and assorted canine females - all of whom had better decorating sense than me.

I married into a family of five sons and immediately bonded with my mother-in-law, who ultimately became my best friend and gave me the gift of theatre (which is a whole 'nother story). We bought this wonderful old house - the oldest brick house in the town of Ashland, Virginia. We bought it standing in the front yard as the house, in disreputable repair, was auctioned off. Due to our youth and energy and our low income status, we took on the renovating of the house ourselves with help from many friends and assorted brothers.

My father-in-law was vice-president of Thalhimers Industrial Sales in Richmond, a firm that decorated hotels, motels, educational facilities all over the country. By trade he was an interior designer and artist. All the boys got that gene - this Gene did not. I realized how bad my taste was when Dick, my mom-in-law, and I went to pick out flooring for the kitchen. I chose a lovely linoleum made up of 8x8 squares, each of them depicting the American Revolution - cannons, fifing and drumming soldiers, flags, etc. I turned to look at my husband's horrified face and that of my mom (who loved me more than her sons, I'm sure), and realized these two people who loved me so much would never look like that to make me feel badly. I must be awful. Needless to say, being a very smart woman, I have deferred decorating decisions to other people since then.

HOWEVER, I do pick out some Christmas ornaments. We got them down from the attic today to do the tree. We came across my favorite, a lime-green chandelier about six inches tall with hanging ribbons and dangling crystals. Dick was looking at it thinking about where to hang it when I said, "Oh, isn't that the prettiest thing?" He put his arm around me, kissed my head and replied, "Oh, Gene....you should have lived in a double-wide."

Don't you just love it.

Amends are made

2008-12-08T03:58:49Z

About eighteen years ago when Bill was fifteen, fighting the battle for his life against pain, cocaine, pot and booze, he had a friend also named Billy, who was older than Bill, but Bill always looked older and had a lot of talent and charisma.

I seldom knew where Bill was during those years. He would disappear for hours, days and sometimes weeks. One particular time he brought two boys home with him for the night. One had blonde curly hair, the other had dirty hair and had a pretty nasty body odor. But they spent the night. The next day the three of them left ostensibly to get cigarettes from a 7-11 located close. Three days passed by and I had no idea what had happened to him or the other boys. Sunday came and we got our obligatory phone call from Virginia from Dick's father and ding-bat step mother who told us how happy they were to see Bill and his friends. Not wanting to let the parents know that we were clueless we acted like we knew all about this trip. The DBSMother said that they had left that morning to go a rock concert in Maryland. We acted like we knew all about this. I did ask if he was travelling with the curly blonde boy and the dark haired boy who smelled funny. She said, "You mean the Black boy?" And I just agreed. Apparently, they had traded the guy with BO for a Black fellow.

Two weeks passed. I was beat to hell...not knowing what to do, so I did nothing but worry. Finally, Bill returned. After the left the concert they went to New York and stayed with the Black fellow's family. Bill brought Statue of Liberty tee shirts for his brothers.

But back to the Bill and Billy show. One night the two bills placed their guitars in the trunk of Billy's mother's MG. Billy tried to close the lid but had enough sense to realize it wouldn't close. My Bill was more tenacious and slammed the lid and the end of the guitar poked through the metal. Billy's mother was terribly upset at what my son had done and called me. I don't remember what she said, whether she wanted me to pay for the repair of the car (hell, we were probably paying off bail at that time). I just remember it being very unpleasant.

Billy's mom and dad have been very successful and spend time here and in their home somewhere in New York, also on the water - I think on Shelter Island. A large group of island people go up there for a clambake every year. I don't know the father, but I have admired the mother for years. For eighteen years I have felt guilty that she knew I was the mother of that awful kid who ruined her car. Since cancer, I have run into her several times and we have had really nice conversations.

Tonight she was at the Long Island Cafe Christmas party and I sat down beside her and we chatted and she asked me if my Bill had been a friend of her Billy's. I told her that I had felt badly for eighteen years about what Bill did to the car and that we had not made any attempt to reumburse them, even though I know we didn't have the money then to anything but eat and run up credit card bills.

She said, "Oh, my gosh! I thought that was someone else's child (and she gave a name.)" She asked if our house had burned down shortly after that and I said it had. She said she had wanted to apologize to that other person for years for being so rude and ugly on the phone, but couldn't figure out how. So we laughed, hugged, and put to bed a regret for me and a regret for her. Merry Christmas.

Stupid things/regrets/wish I was Catholic/think I am Jewish

2008-12-07T03:05:32Z

When I think back on my life I really wish I could have done or not have done some things. I wish I were Catholic because I believe confession is good for the soul, but I think I might be Jewish because I carry guilt around like a bag full of stones.

Cancer has made me so aware of my mortality, so I think about how would I feel if it came back. I'm not stupid - no one lives forever, but do I have enough time to tidy up my side of the street? Make amends for mistakes and really stupid moves, get over errors I made while trying my best at motherhood, and live with regrets over idiotic moves like getting a third dog when she will probably outlive me.

I wish I could have been a better wife. I am a terrible housekeeper - well, maybe terrible is too harsh. I don't tolerate dirty, but clutter doesn't bother me. If we didn't have a maid service come every week, things would definitely pile up. We've been married since we were babies and I still adore him and he is the kindest, gentlest, most patient man in the world - plus he has many other really good attributes not mentionable in polite company.

I wish I could have been a better mother. I wish I could have given birth to Eddie, Bill and Tommy. I think because we adopted them, I was always afraid that if I didn't act as their friend they wouldn't love me. I could have done more for them by standing my ground on certain issues. Eddie and Bill have drawn the line in the sand. They love me, but insist on doing things for themselves. I still give Tommy handouts when I really shouldn't. Then I resent doing it.

I wish I were a better woman. I wish I had finished my BSN degree, but the money never seemed to be there. First Dick was in college, then Eddie, then bail for Bill and school for Tommy. And I let Dick talk me into toys, like the boat, that I actually resent but he loves it. I wish I could get enough nerve to become certified in several nursing disciplines, but I am afraid that because I'm an old fart I might fail academically. And my smarts are my source of pride - failing would seriously damage my psyche...so I won't try.

I wish I were a better friend. I sometimes think I am too overbearing - touchy and huggy. The one good thing is that I am not judgmental. I think I sometimes let my busy life make me less than a good friend.

I'm tired...I have a headache...I have vented...I'm going to bed.

Health Care Hero

2008-11-21T20:49:23Z

I feel like Miss America. I just wish I could tell my mom. She always wanted a homecoming queen and I certainly never was THAT, but I think she'd be proud of me.

The Charleston Business Journal opens nominations for Healthcare Hero Awards each year. After the nominations come in and are judged, the three finalists in each category are invited to a banquet to recognize the winners. I didn't even know I had been nominated and got an invitation to the banquet. Here is a picture of our table. Dick, me, Tommy, and Marie Brown, whom I introduced as my sister, but who helped me learn to be a nurse. Also with us are Wynde and Scott.

As each category was announced, a little snippet was read about each finalist - the winner being announced last. And I won! Holy cow! I had to actually make an acceptance speech, which nearly did me in. I have no idea what I said, but I'm pretty sure I didn't describe Dick's sexual ability this time. I wasn't the only Roper St. Francis person to win - Scott Broome, the service line director for Cancer Services also won as well as a Roper cardiologist. Caroline, our pet therapy volunteer was a finalist, too.

Today, the lady who nominated me sent me her nomination form and it was beautifully written. She had asked imput from several of my co-workers (unbeknownst to me) and took quite a bit of it from this blog. It was really good...hell, I would have voted for me!

I am really quite honored by this. Dick, Tommy and Marie told me it was a good thing I won. They said they would have gotten up and complained loudly if I hadn't. Jerry Springer would have loved that!

#3 The Reindeer

2008-11-16T02:43:49Z

Oh Lordy - I just had the best time! Our friend Jeanne had dinner with us tonight. She is Dego's widow. Dego was one of Dick's best friends and was killed in an automobile accident about a year ago. We boated with them, Dick cooked with him, we were dedicated animal lovers and he and Jeanne have been special in our lives for years.

Dick and I have kept close to Jeanne - having dinner, going to each other's homes, laughing and crying about the wonderful, funny man that is no longer in our lives.

Tonight, we decided to go to Morgan Creek, a nice fun restaurant at the north end of the Isle of Palms. It was raining when we left our house and we drove up Waterway Blvd. About six blocks from the restaurant we saw that someone had put out in the trash on the side of the street a plethora or gaggle of wire reindeer, complete with twinkling Christmas lights. Some about four feet long and about three feet high, two little ones and one thing that is probably a donkey.

Jeanne and I exclaimed that we should get them on the way back to add to our tacky Christmas decorations..to either join Santa Flamingo on the dock or the two wise flamingos on the front porch (see below.) Dick didn't respond..probably because he was certainly praying that the rain would wash them away or someone else would get them before we drove back.

Well, guess what? They were still there! So Jeanne and I coerced Dick into stopping and we loaded three big reindeer, two small reindeer and the donkey into the back of his GMC and brought them home. We unloaded them onto the carport and they nearly scared Sadie to death. But, omigosh! How fun was that. We rode down the street with the back of the car slightly open with white wire reindeer and one donkey loaded into the back. I just love life!

#2 Annie's gift

2008-11-16T02:25:43Z

Three weeks ago, I had carpal tunnel release surgery done on my right hand. For over two years, I have put up with really nasty pain and after the surgery, I had instant relief! It was wonderful - good sex wonderful, orgasmically wonderful, end of chemo wonderful.

For the first time in over two years, I can sleep. Just lie down at night and sleep. It is such a blessing! Last night, Dick fell asleep before I did. I was reading and realized I was actually sleepy...and I knew when I cut the light off I would actually be able to sleep. So I cut the light off.

As usual, my over-active brain began doing it's thing. I thought, "Holy Cow! This is great. I'll just go to sleep." And then I thought..."I wonder if dying is like this?"

Well, that was stupid. Then my over-active imagination took over and I was about to spiral out of control. I knew my anxiety was mounting...I hadn't thought about dying in about two years. Okay..I would have to get up and roam around the house, maybe watch some tube, but NOT sleep.

Then, our three-year-old dog, Annie, new in our house, a rescue who was going to be euthanized..not a particularly beautiful dog, but sweet and mostly labrador retriever, did an amazing thing. She jumped up onto our bed (something she never does) put herself between my body and Dick's, laid her head on my pillow, close to my head where I could hear her breathe. She laid very still and warm and precious. All of a sudden, my anxiety was gone. I patted her a couple of times and went to sleep. When I awoke this morning, she was back in her chair - where she usually sleeps.

What a gift. Annie might just be an angel.

three things - #1 the sermon

2008-11-16T02:14:48Z

Two Sundays ago it was my turn on the church rotation to give the message at our early service. It so happened that it was also the day we planned our beach service. Those of us who rotate giving the message are usually given a Bible verse upon which to base the sermon and for the past couple of weeks we had been using Micah 6:8, which tells people to do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with your God.

My part was the walk humbly part and it struck a nerve because I tend to walk like a Jack Russell Terrier. At our beach services, we bring a keyboard and people sit on beach chairs, rocks, blankets, whatever and one couple had brought their little dog. So, I was in my element. I read the Bible verse and was about to start into the message when I looked up and saw a large bird on the closest telephone pole. She (for some reason I decided it was a female) didn't sit forward like a hawk or osprey, but straight up and she was a golden color. Being somewhat ADD, I said to the crowd gathered, "Hey, look at that bird!" and everyone did. Then I started the sermon and she stayed all the way through the entire service. After the last song, we all walked to the church and had coffee and deviled eggs. Later, just after Sunday School, I looked out of the window in the church and she had flown off.

Dick's good friend is a bird watcher and Dick told him the story and was told that she was probably a golden eagle. I love animals and it was quite a magical moment for me.

done with the mouse

2008-09-22T17:58:35Z

Sadie wouldn't participate. She said it was beneath her dignity and at 15 years old (or 105 human years), I don't argue with her!

the longest week

2008-09-21T23:58:49Z

We have had such an adventure. Last Friday we flew from Charleston to Richmond to attend a reunion..then flew back to Charleston on Sunday. We set fire to $100 because we had reserved a room at an Ashland, Virginia hotel that looked like you should be packing heat if you wanted to stay there. So we canceled the reservations that we non-refundable and stayed at a safer looking hotel. We had a wonderful time with friends we hadn't seen in years and shared old and new stories. I was so thrilled that Dick had such a good time. We met at a restaurant called The Smokey Pig (I knew as a vegetarian that I was dead in the water!) and he and his college and early married life buddies laughed until I thought we might be asked to leave. The wives sat together and I caught up on the lives of my former next-door neighbor whom I have loved for years, my car-pooling buddy from when I worked as an IV nurse at Richmond Memorial Hospital, and my friend who has the wonderful name Cecil - not Cecile.

Then on Sunday we flew back to Charleston, got into our car at the airport and drove to Disney World. We stayed at the All Star Resort, Disney's Motel 6, but still on the property. We met up with our 'Clump,' the same as in November and walked our hineys off in dreadful heat. We did get an opportunity to have Caleb, our newly-turned five-year old, to ourselves one of the nights. Caleb, Dick, Tommy and I did the new Buzz Lightyear ride while the rest of the Clump did something else. I started a "Caleb's Disney Adventure" journal with him and we wrote something each night. He is a refreshing little boy and we loved having him all to ourselves if only for a little while.

We came back to the IOP on Friday and Saturday we had about 70 plus people here to honor Sarah and Dave following their wedding. It was fun. Then I was elder of the week at church and we had an early beach service and then a christening at the 11 o'clock service. At 1:30 I fell apart.

Waiting for me amongst the other mail was a letter from the hospital telling me that there is something a little suspicious in my one good, pretty breast. The recommendation is that I have another mammogram or MRI or some ungodly test in five months. I can't even think about it right now but will call my A-team, Scott and Amy tomorrow. Damn it! No matter what, there will be a little preoccupation in my head for the next five months. Somehow I don't think I will ever be totally unafraid.

A day of scans

2008-09-09T00:22:30Z

I went to see Scott, my oncologist, last Thursday. He drew blood and informed me that I needed to get some scans. Because he is a friend, we were having a great time chatting, so I am assuming he means these scans just to be the eternal check-ups that I will have for the rest of my life.

I started this morning at 7:30 with a PET CT scan. After missing one vein, the tech put an IV in my hand, injected some radiated glucose as I sat in a recliner, dimmed the lights and told me to relax for 45 minutes. Oh, Dear God! But I did it and she returned. I was put on a table and run through a doughnut for about thirty minutes. I always keep my eyes shut, because I don't want to find out I'm claustrophobic. Dick drove me to the Center at St. Francis.

My next scan, a bilateral breast MRI, was scheduled for 11:45 on the other side of town at Roper. Dick and I had breakfast at the Variety Store and he drove me home. I saw no reason for him to take me to the second appointment, which I had been told would only be about 30 minutes.

I registered, a tech came and got me, ANOTHER IV was placed in my arm, this time - at least it was on the first try, and I was told to take off my jewelry, which consisted of a necklace, a pair of earrings, three 'strong' bracelets (pink for breast cancer, white for nursing, and orange for the SPCA, a silver bracelet and a pink Promise bracelet). Then I was given the dreaded hospital gown, placed on a table, face down, with my boobies hanging through two openings, given ear plugs, and the test began. I had been told the scan itself would be about twenty minutes.

I don't know what happened but I was on that table, in that tube for more than 90 minutes. My ribs hurt, my face hurt, and I ran out of things to occupy my brain. The noise was ghastly. I tried to give rhythm and word to it - once it sounded like the banging noise said "SOOKEY," and another time "ISTAMBUL." Mostly it was just hellishly loud and I could feel the impact moving the air just above my head...my hair would move. After what I thought was an interminable amount of time, a voice told me we were 1/3 the way through. I almost started to cry, but was cautioned not to move. I replayed in my head every successful audition I ever had, I respoke The Mammologues, I tried counting seconds, but would get stuck on 10, 11, 12. I concentrated on my breathing and then realized that made me afraid that I was going to suffocate. Then I felt like my heart beat was becoming irregular. All the while, a nice voice was encouraging me, saying, "You're doing great. It's important you don't move." I truly thought I was going to vomit or cough and my face hurt from being stuck in the hole intended for it.

When I finally finished, it was after 2 p.m. The techs told me something about not being able to get clear pictures, and helped me off the table. I was dizzy and kept apologizing for messing up the test, but I knew I hadn't. I got my clothes on, got my IV out and almost ran out of the hospital, realizing later I had left all of my jewelry and my sunglasses in the little room where I dressed.

When Dick got home, I asked him to make me a drink...something I haven't done in a couple of years and asked for his undivided attention while I told him my tale of woe. I am getting ready to go stand in the shower...allowing healing water to wash over me. This was truly one of the most difficult days for me in recent history. I just hope and pray the scans are good.

Olde Farte

2008-08-18T19:11:26Z

I think I am officially an olde farte, (I love it when people put 'e''s on perfectly good words) and as such should lead a more uncomplicated life. But something has just totally screwed up the week of September 13 - 20. I think the planets have aligned in a certain way that too, VERY TOO, much is going on that week.

On Saturday, September 13 is the Dragonboat Atlanta Festival. I immediately signed up, reserved my hotel room and have been paddling like a demon at practices for the past month or so. In the interim, Dick received an invitation to a high school reunion in Ashland, and he opted not to go to that, but go to Atlanta.

On Sunday, September 14 the trip to Disney begins. We had originally agreed to go on the train with Eddie (son), Lisa (daughter-in-law), Wanda (Eddie's mother-in-law), Tommy (another son) and three grandchildren. Then the Atlanta festival came up so we cancelled our train tickets and opted to drive from Atlanta to Orlando on Sunday after the dragonboat festival.

Two weeks after that, Dick receives an invitation from Martin-Marietta (some big client) to go deep-sea fishing on Tuesday, September 16 - Thursday, September 18th, which he declines because of the OTHER STUFF GOING ON. THIS IS GETTING CRAZY!

Then Saturday, our former next-door neighbor and really good friend in Virginia calls and leaves a plaintive message on our answering machine about hoping we were coming to the reunion. Dick gets the Bugs Bunny look on his face and I KNOW he really wants to go to that. I break out in hives over this because I know in my heart that I really should do something for him for a change. I guess it's NOT ALWAYS ABOUT ME (what??), so I make the decision to forgo my paddling adventure and defer to him. Now, we fly to Richmond on Friday, party hardy with our OLDE Virginia friends, fly back to Charleston on Sunday, get into our car which will be staying at the airport and damn drive to see the freaking MOUSE.

We are scheduled to come home on Friday, September 19th and will be hosting 70 or so people on Saturday, September 20th at 4 p.m. for a wedding celebration. Thanks be to God our sweet Sarah is having it catered, so all we have to do is booze and cake. And five minutes ago (my hand to God), I just got an invitation to go to Savannah for another paddling festival on - you guessed it - September 20.

I'm almost, but not quite, ready for some olde-farte-age.

veggies, glorious veggies

2008-07-03T18:51:38Z

About a month or so ago, Tommy found a web site for Ambrose Family Farms, a place on Johns Island. On it, there was a CSA link - community supporting agriculture. For a fee, you could join this CSA and have fresh vegetables brought to several designated delivery sites every Wednesday.

I immediately joined. A handbook was made available on line that explained the plan and gently encouraged the members to try different veggies and that there would be recipes available on their site. This has been so exciting! I have made a green tomato pie, yellow, zucchini and patty-pan (who knew?) squash, eggplant casseroles, baked beets with garlic and olive oil, glazed carrots with fresh basil, and enough tomato sandwiches to sink a ship. And yesterday, an incredibly delicious cantaloupe came in my box.

I found a recipe for a white bean, tomato and kale soup because kale came in the box for two weeks; I have had fresh garlic and green chili peppers a couple of times as well. I always share a bit with Tommy and yesterday took a whole box of cherry tomatoes to Eddie's family. I LOVE Wednesdays.

We are promised seven weeks of the summer growing season, which probably ends sometime this month. I will definitely try to get on the list for the fall. Since becoming a vegetarian, this is the most varied bunch of meals I've eaten. YUM,YUM!!

Knoxville Dragonboating

2008-06-30T14:09:40Z

What a wonderful weekend I had. Our Dragonboat Charleston team and our sister team Surge went to a festival in Knoxville. Now, I am not particularly fond of the mountains, having lived my entire life on flat ground, and I double-dee HATE driving on those curvy roads that go up, up, up, and down, down, down. So, even though I knew in my heart that we would have to cross mountains to get there, I left it out of my head. Thanks be to God, I did NOT have to drive. I sat in the back seat of my friends, Alice and Chris' car. Chris obviously knew how to handle those roads and I only prayed out loud a couple of times.

My two roommates for the event are both gorgeous women, both cancer survivors, and both very tall and willowy (I just love that word!). They are also two people I adore. I dubbed them the 'Twin Towers,' and looking at this picture I am sure you will understand:

I honestly don't realize that I am a short person until I see picture like that!

The Mammologues - Part 2...the best comment

2008-06-10T00:26:12Z

Four financial planners from Ameritrade bought out the theatre for a production of The Mammologues. Each invited forty clients, so the place was packed. I didn't hold back...I gave them the full, uncensored version of the play including the line "No one can fuck like Dick."

They were a strange audience. I'm sure they didn't know exactly what to expect. If you are told you are going to see a one-woman show about her journey through breast cancer, you may not expect it to be so irreverent and slightly bawdy. They seemed more okay with the f--- line than my telling them about the anti-nausea healing effect of marijuana.

After every show, I was enveloped by many of the theatre goers to express their kind thoughts and I was very moved by many of their comments. However, from the above described audience came the best remark of all. An older gentleman approached me, holding the hand of his equally elderly wife. He said, "I must tell you, I cannot perform as well as your Richard. However, I loved your show and I love to hear a woman say that her husband is a good fucker."

My hand to God...that is the exact comment. How can you not love that?

The Mammologues - Part 1

2008-06-10T00:14:53Z

I have finished five public, one private, one 400 person luncheon, and one celebration of the 125th Anniversary of the Medical University of South Carolina College of Nursing. Ah'm tiiiirred.

The reviews were so good. The City Paper reviewer gave the show an 'A'.

MAY 25, 2008

The Mammologues: Gene Glave’s Journey Through Breast Cancer
Gene Glave reminisces about driving and puking, first in college, and again after chemo in her hilariously personal Mammologues

BY GERVASE CAYCEDO
Witnessing Gene Glave in her one-woman show Mammologues, is less like watching a play and more like having dinner with your favorite kooky, off-the-wall aunt. You know, the aunt who says what she means and holds nothing back; makes you laugh until you nearly pee your pants all the while remaining genuinely interested in you and your latest boyfriend.

Glave’s play material was plucked directly from her series of blog posts two years ago as she battled breast cancer, and trust me, by the time you exit the theater, you’ll feel as if you’ve just read her diary. Navigating her way through wig shopping, pot brownies, and folliculitis (inflammation of the hair follicles after chemotherapy), Glave is uncompromisingly honest as she talks about the ugly side of cancer. She makes no apologies for the graphic content, (there’s a bit about her losing her toenails which left my skin crawling), or the personal disclosure (after her mastectomy, still loopy from anesthesia she tells all her visitors she loves them dearly but, “no one can fuck like Dick can.” Don’t worry, Dick is her husband).

Frankly, it’s refreshing.

What makes Mammologues brilliant is that while trying not to pee my pants laughing, I momentarily forgot that this woman was actually telling a true story — her story. She’s not acting. If you want a sneak peek into Gene Glave — the sister, the wife, the mother, the friend — look no further, for you will find her heart and soul on the stage of the Village Playhouse. In that way, it is not like going to the theater. There are no characters, no actors, no costumes. Aside from a few props of wigs and falsies, and a simple set reminiscent of a home (or a cozy hospital room), Glave is on stage playing (but not acting as) herself. Sure, she had some help from director Keely Enright in crafting her journals into a play format and perfecting her innate comedic timing, but, an experienced thespian, she is at home on stage.

As I became engrossed in her story, she was at different times my sister, my mother, my aunt, and my friend, speaking openly about the “darkness of depression,” yet making me smile seconds later with true-life tales of a musical rendition she and her sister choreographed called “Bye Bye Boobie.” She seeks to entertain us, but also to give voice to a sickness that no one seems to want to speak about. Cancer. Everywhere else but in this play, cancer is whispered about. Unpleasant and awkward, it seems impossible to render the appropriate amount of empathy towards someone who has it. Yet, everyone knows someone who at least knows someone (who may know someone) who has struggled with cancer, and therein lies the beauty of this play — untapped mass appeal. Drag the men in your life to see it, Glave lovingly references her husband and three boys throughout, and husbands and sons in your life may thank you for it someday.

How inspiring to find a play that succeeds in being honest, poignant, funny, and relatable all before intermission.

The Mammologues: Gene Glave’s Journey Through Breast Cancer • Piccolo Spoleto Theatre Series • $17-$22 • 1 hour 30 min. • May 25 at 7 p.m.; May 31 at 3 p.m.; June 3, 5 at 8 p.m. • Village Playhouse, 730 Coleman Blvd., Mt. Pleasant • (888) 374-2656

MORE BY GERVASE CAYCEDO
Mammologues: Gene Glave's Journey Through Breast Cancer
Her play is meant to appeal on a human level, instead of just to women and cancer survivors — so anyone eager to understand the human mind and a heart faced with adversity will appreciate Glave's courage and honesty. [May 19, 2008]

We are not invincible

2008-05-30T13:45:44Z

I don't even know how to describe this: abject terror comes close. Tuesday, Dick had a TIA. That is a transient ischemia attack, or sometimes described as a 'mini' stroke.

He left home to go to work and said that things started looking funny..in his words, "It was like I was in a cartoon." As eloquent as that may be, I can't get a handle on it - can't imagine what that might look like. "The dashboard of the car looked funny, as did the other cars." He drove all the way to his office in North Charleston...safely by the grace of God. He said that when he got to his office, he was unsteady on his feet and couldn't get the computer to work properly.

He had left some stuff at home that morning, so I told him to meet me at St. Francis and I would give it to him. When he drove up, I ran out to meet him and I asked him if he was okay - he never leaves stuff at home..just not in his makeup. He admitted to feeling lightheaded and said he was going home to lie down. OH, I DON'T THINK SO. I took him straight to the ER and he was somewhat unsteady. He had a CT of the brain, lots of blood work and within an hour he was fine. He never showed any abnormal neurological signs or weakness in any of his extremities.

All of his tests came up negative and he had a second CT and an MRI yesterday. He was admitted overnight and discharged Wednesday. I had to sit on him to get him to stay home yesterday and he is back to work today...feeling totally normal.

I am terrified and he said that he felt like he was living under the sword of Damocles - sort of how I feel about cancer. He was my rock during my illness and I have such a hard time thinking of him as vulnerable. I prayed and asked God to take me - not him. He is such a much better person.

We are considering this a wake up call, and even though his tests were normal, we will be living a different lifestyle. There will be healthy meals and exercise in his future...which he is taking with a grain of salt..well actually without salt. Please send prayers, mojo, or good thoughts his way. That worked for me during cancer.