Bernie Dream Phone

I wasn't going to write about this because it's weird and people think I'm weird enough already, without confirming it for them.

But I told some people and they thought it was freaky -- but they also thought it was cool. So, at the risk of being shunned as a loonie (even more than I am now), here goes:

While The Perfect Man is in China, we communicate using Skype. During the evening on Tuesday, I kept Skype open on the computer in the office at home and cranked the volume so I would hear any alerts. Just before I went to bed, I turned the speakers off but left Skype running so The Perfect Man could write little love notes to me (as he often does).

Yesterday, something woke me up at 5:09 am. I wasn't sure what it was but thought it could have been a door opening or something falling. I picked up my cell phone and watched out the door in case I saw a light come on and I listened to see if I could hear anything else. I stayed that way until about 5:20 am, then figured it was one of the cats that made the noise. I tried to go back to sleep. Uh uh. No way. I tried until about 5:40 am and then thought I'd get up because I get up at 6:00 am anyway.

I went through my usual ritual:

• pick up book and exit bedroom


• go into spare bedroom and open blinds for the cats


• go into bathroom and [removed for modesty's sake]


• go into living room and turn on lights and put book down


• go into kitchen and turn on lights, open curtains, and take pill


• go into office, fire up the computer, sit down and check the usual stuff

WTF?!? There, as big as the computer screen would allow it to be, was a message from The Perfect Man.

Left at 5:09 am.

I checked the speakers -- they were off.

Bull on a China Stop

At 2:45 pm this afternoon, my life ended.

Okay, nothing so dramatic. The Perfect Man left for China and will be gone until Sunday. Almost a complete week apart. I can't count the number of people that have said "Oh, it's only a week. I'd welcome the break" or words to that effect and always with a hint of jealously - "You lucky dog" written all over their faces. I don't understand that attitude. I really don't. I understand the whole needing space and needing your own time. I enjoy it -- in small doses. But eventually I miss him like crazy. And that only takes about...oh....ten minutes or so.

And, of course, all those nasty thoughts have gone through my head about a jazillion times. You know the thoughts. I'm not going to give voice to them by writing them here but they are the worst possible thoughts to have when a loved one is about to get on an airplane. It doesn't help that this morning, we had "the talk". You know the one -- location of important papers, computer passwords, which cat gets his favourite shirt. -- that kind of thing. {{{{shudder}}}} A necessary evil, but necessary all the same.

I guess what I'm trying to say is I love The Perfect Man and I hope he has a very safe and happy trip.

Smoke and Mirrors

My mother was diagnosed the lung cancer a number of years ago. Seems hard to believe that you can put those words together in one sentence and then go on to say that she's still living. But she is. And I'm very, very grateful.

Easter Sunday, mom came to the house for an Easter Buffet (with the rest of our family). Mom wasn't feeling very well and said she had a touch of bronchitis. On Monday evening, my step-father called and said that mom had been taken to hospital because she had started coughing and could not get her breath. He said her oxygen levels were very low.

Tuesday morning I went to visit her. She was still in emergency because they didn't have a bed for her. While I was there, the lung specialist came in. He proceeded to give her royal what for because -- and this will be hard to believe but after 8 years with lung cancer -- my mother still smokes. Yeah. She smokes. Cigarettes. The very things that have given her a death sentence to begin with.

I found out two other very important things that morning.

1. My mother has COPD -- short for Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease. It's cumulative and not curable. The most you can hope for is to slow it down and (sometimes) reverse its effects a little. The doctor said she could still live years with her cancer but she only had months with COPD if she continued to smoke.

2. My mother has been under the impression that she has lung cancer because cancer runs in her family. In her mind, cigarettes had nothing to do with it and she was going to get it any way. At least, that's what she told herself. I guess on some level it's easier to swallow than the knowledge that you signed your own death certificate.

We were all guilty of much the same thing. When mom was diagnosed with lung cancer, she made a good honest try to quit smoking. Then she slowly went back to it....pretty much with everyone's blessing. Our attitude was more of "Well, the damage is done now and she has so little else to look forward to and it's so hard to quit and and and and" so on and so on and so on. What none of us considered (or admitted to ourselves more like) was that she was speeding up the clock (or maybe running down the clock much quicker) by continuing to smoke.

She has quit. I threw away the cigarettes she had at the hospital. My step-father gave away the cigarettes she had at home and he cleaned and put away her ashtray. My brother (who usually picked up her cigarettes for her) has agreed that he will not do that any more.

She has quit. It may have been one of her joys in life and it may be the hardest thing for her to do. But I'm selfish. We're all selfish. Damn right I expect her to do it.

She has quit.

I'm not ready to say good-bye.