A most gentle man

Today I found out that Dr. Frank Guerra, one of the heads of the practice where I had my ECT, had died. He was the anesthesiologist. He had cancer. It seems it was too far gone when they found it.

I've written a lot about my ECT experience. It was a significant part of my life, so I will continue to write about it whenever I see fit. 

One of the strange things about my memory loss is what wasn't lost. I remember the office; the waiting room; the staff; the pre-treatment questions; getting in my gown; lying on the gurney; and being wheeled into treatment room. With all of this, I remember moments with Dr. Guerra. Some days, the nurses would have a hard time getting a vein for my IV. They would leave it for Dr. Guerra to do when I went in. He was so gentle and got it done easily. My favorite memory of interacting with him was a day when I were late to our appointment. Being late can turn into a huge trigger of my anxiety. So, I was all keyed up about it. When I got into the treatment room and he was on my right side as per usual, he brought his observation of my stress. He asked me what was going on that had me so anxious. I explained that we were late. He asked me something like, "Did you make it? Are you here?" and I said, "Yes" and he told me that that was all that mattered. He then had me relaxed and put under. He's bedside manner was sweet and kind.

My hope, that in his memory, those he taught and mentored learned one very important thing, a tender and kind bedside manner. 

Choosing battles

I have these things about social media. One is that I really need to keep myself from reading the comments. Another is that when I read a post from a "friend" I have to make a choice to comment or not to comment. Am I going to change their mind? Is it going to turn into a pissing contest? Lately, I have realized it may be best to "unfriend" and "unfollow". I've always felt weird about doing that.

Tonight, I chose to "unfriend" and "unfollow". I just didn't think commenting was going to make much difference. However, I do feel like I'm a wimp who isn't standing up for something I feel strongly about.

This "friend" posted a link to an article about the first non-binary person coming out and admitting it was a sham. The "friend" said that you had to believe this person's story even if you didn't support the source site/publication. He then went on to bring up James "Buffalo Bill" Gumb from the movie The Silence of the Lambs. He pointed out that "Buffalo Bill" was denied gender reassignment surgery because he was mentally unstable. This was so unbelievably offensive to me. As if "Buffalo Bill" should be the standard to which we hold transgenderism. He said that he wasn't going to argue transgenderism but psychological treatment must be exhausted before any harmful chemicals or surgical procedures be considered.

I started to comment. I started to say that psychological/psychiatric treatment is a part of the process. You have to be cleared for medical procedures. I wanted to school him. I wanted to be an ALLY for my friends. I wimped out, though. I went the simple route of clicking "unfriend" and "unfollow". For this, my trans friends and my friends with trans friends and family members, I wish I would have done better by you.

A Smooth Criminal

I saw a bunch of social media buzz about HBO's Documentary Leaving Neverland. It's about 2 boys, now grown men who have come out with their stories about sexual abuse at the hands of Michael Jackson. I made the mistake, as often happens, of reading the comments. Some of the posts really bothered me so I felt it was a good idea to view the film. And, the comments still bother me.

Late 2017 the #MeToo movement started to erupt. People were feeling free to share their stories. Some stories were shared for those who no longer had their voice. I started to recognize that time doesn't matter. I know someone who was a victim of a sexual assault and went through some major shit trying to recover and reclaim her life. She never reported it. In these last 20-30 years, she has kept his name from being reported. I would never tell her it’s too late. No matter how soon or how far off someone comes to the point of telling their story, it is their truth on their timeline.

An now, to talk about Michael Jackson. I fully believe him to be a sexual abuser. I believe that there are times the abused becomes the abuser and really feel that is what happened here. The pedophile is a groomer and if anyone had the capacity to groom a child it would be the wealthy man-child himself. He seduced the whole family of the guys in the documentary. He was slick, some might say "smooth", and he was protected.

What really sets me off about the comment feeds on all the different social media posts. The idol worship, godlike image with which people paint him is like a level of blindness.

It bothers me that #MeToo was started as a kind of women's movement that took a little time to acknowledge the victimization of males. Out came Anthony Rapp with accusations against Kevin Spacey. Spacey is facing a felony sexual assault charge. This shows the movement knows no boundaries.

If you supported Anita Hill by saying that the time it took her should not be an issue because she had her truth to address; if you say that Dr. Christine Blasey-Ford came out when it was right for her because the truth about Kavanaugh needed to be heard; if you defend any female celebrity or otherwise for finding the strength to speak-out on her terms, her time when she felt safe, her time to be an example to all the other victims becoming survivors, you cannot tell other victims they have a curfew.

I know people who supported the women or women like them that I mentioned above. Those same people don't believe Michael Jackson's accusers and even said it is because they waited too long to report. Fine, don't believe them, support Michael Jackson, but don't use a timeline as your reasoning unless you will recant support of Hill and Blasey-Ford and countless other victims who followed their own timelines.

And, finally, some of you know damn well that if your son or daughter, your brother or sister, your best friend came to you in 10, 15, 20 years with their truth to tell, you will DAMN well support them.

#51

Five years ago I wrote about my parents' journey to get married. It was at the time of their 46th wedding anniversary.

Last year was their 50th anniversary. I'm not sure why I didn't write something then, but I didn't. We had a celebration. A special blessing was given at mass. Gold decorations on the tables at lunch. All of us in awe of the longevity of their marriage.

And here we are, another year in the books.

A couple of days ago, I was walking Jarvis and thinking about their 51 years. So many things to fill all those years. So many things bringing ups and downs.

Those "things" are 5 children. In their 51 years of marriage, only 10 months were childless. My oldest brother was born on New Year's Eve of 1968. My sister came the next December. My next brother came 2 years and 1 month later. I came 3 years and just under 2 months after him. Finally, my little brother came 4 years and 8 days after me. So, yeah, 10 months without any kids.

I can't even imagine what having 5 kids could be like. We were in a house with 1 bathroom. All 5 of us went to Catholic school. We were involved in different activities - a variety of sports and classes at museums. My dad worked an office job, I honestly couldn't tell you what it was, though. It was standard office job hours. My mom worked retail at a fabric store where she could demonstrate her great sewing skills. Dad would get home, Mom would leave if that's what her schedule was. When she worked weekends, my dad would drive her so that he could have the car to take us to whatever places we needed to go.

Around the time I was in 6th grade, the company my dad worked for was closing up shop and moving to Canada and one of the Carolinas (I think). My parents did consider having us move to Canada. We went up for a visit. My brothers' interests were involving hockey and mine was whether or not they had tornadoes. Anyway, the decided against it. My dad had been 16 when he started with the company and he was 50-ish when this was going down. They decided that my dad would commute. He would come home late afternoon on Friday and leave Monday morning. He did that for a year and a half. That's when we got a second car, or at least I associate the second car with this time. By second car, I'm talking beater. It was not going to make it on any road trip.

There it is. A snapshot of their marriage. Just a mere fraction of what has been going on for the last 51 years.

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad!

Kumbaya and all that stuff

About 7 years ago I decided I wanted to get back into a sport that I hadn't participated in for years. With this decision came me joining a women's blog about the sport. It was kind of a "girl power" thing. It was supporting each other on our training logs and through injuries. Cheering on milestones and wins.

At one point, I was at work and in a tremendous amount of pain. I went to the doctor and ended-up in the ER. It ended up being the start of a nightmare that would take a couple years to play out. Anyway, I had a cyst on my ovary. We started playing the wait and see game.

I had one of my follow-up visits with one of the doctors in the same practice where my OB/GYN practices. The way the pain had been, I wasn't sure I wanted to continue with the sport. I just thought of the cyst rupturing. So, talking to the doctor, he said he wasn't sure it was a good idea. He said something like the jostling around might cause a rupture.

I go to the blog. The supportive community of women. I explained what was going on with me. I said what the doctor said. And, BAM!, mockery of the doctor took place. They insinuated the doctor was a chauvinist. There were comments about how women shouldn't play sports because there uteri would fall out. And any other statement along those lines.

The cyst grew. I ended up having surgery. It turned out the cyst was an endometrinoma and it was the size of the bottom of a soda can. I was diagnosed with endometriosis. I was in my 30s and this was news to me. This explained why were not having success getting pregnant.

I went back to the people in charge of the blog and said that I was no longer going to participate. I was focusing on other things in my life.

The response I received from one of them was, "Having a baby won't fix all your problems".

Maybe I should be over this by now. In the grand scheme of things, does it really matter? I guess it does, to me, I guess it does.

I ordered all by myself

I posted on Facebook about how I successfully ordered my food at Qdoba without having to check with Shawn. It seems like a silly thing that I may have been goofing around about. But, I have struggled with remembering something that minor. I believe it is just more effects of my ECT treatments. My brain is just fucked up in different ways.

We are coming up on 3 years since my treatments began. I talk about it probably more than people think I should. Oh well, come back to me when you've gone through it.

I had some curiosity about numbers. I wondered what the average number of treatments is. Basically found a range and the high end was 20. Three times a week seemed the norm, so we're looking at 6 weeks plus a couple days. I had double 20 treatments.

39 Treatments

I was looking through my paperwork and found 39 treatments, so that could be more if we misplaced any. I started out at 3 times a week for a couple months and then slowly spread things out. Then, Shawn finally said it was enough; things weren't changing. I went along with him since I really couldn't gauge things very well for myself. If he wasn't seeing changes, I trusted him. Through it all, I do remember the end. I remember the doctor telling us he disagreed with our decision.

So, my memory is a hot mess. Before, during, and after all the treatments, I've lost some things. I've lost a lot of things. Some things have come back, some things are fuzzy, and, so far, those things are still quite outnumbered by the losses.

UPDATE: I found another sheet from a treatment. So, it's 40 treatments.

Mother may I?

It's been over a month since my last post. I wasn't sure if I would continue, and, quite frankly, I'm still not sure. So, for what's worth, here's a new entry and maybe the last.

These days, as a liberal, I'm not sure what I'm allowed to watch, who I'm allowed to be entertained by. 

Last night, Shawn and I saw The Upside. It wasn't high on our list of movies to see; not really a type we go to, but it was $5 ticket night and it wasn't something really heady, so we went. I thought that maybe I wasn't supposed to see it because of stuff Kevin Hart said. All I really knew was that he said something about how he's not a gay ally or something along those lines. I thought that wasn't a huge deal. I mean, not being an ally doesn't mean you are terrible, does it? Isn't just about staying out of it? I did a check-in on Facebook about seeing the movie and a friend, who happens to be gay, made a comment saying, "Ew." I chickened out about responding because I thought he was probably calling me out about Kevin Hart. I looked into things more by googling Kevin Hart. He said some pretty shitty, homophobic things.

This kind of thing has me wondering what I should do about the entertainment choices I make. I honestly don't know. Can I watch things that a person made before I learned of the terrible things they have done? Can I watch The Usual Suspects in light of knowing that Kevin Spacey has been charged with felony sexual assault? Louis C.K. was a favorite of our family, but now I can't stand him and don't want to listen to his stand-up. When tweets are dredged up from the past by a conservative group even though the tweets had already been acknowledged and apologized for by James Gunn mean he should never been given a job again? 

When I was in high school, my older brother said he would never see a Whoopi Goldberg movie because she admitted to having had abortions. I told him that if that's the case, there are probably others whose movies he should not see. So, if I said that from a liberal point-of-view speaking to a conservative, should I say that same thing as a liberal to a confused liberal?

Life was easier when my parents told me what a could and could not watch.