Doc puts the kibosh on trip downunder !

Four Days Later
Onwards and upwards?? Wrong ! Should have been a little more like Slowly Does It or something else alarmingly simplistic but effective called Take It Easy ….but no…I did not do that. I OVERdid it and somehow, tricked into thinking I am still the smartass who had never spent a single solitary night in hospital till 6 months ago, zipped hither and thither for about four days straight, actually not feeling TOO bad. And in all fairness some of it was sensible and justifiable. A trip to the homeopathic doctor who is soothing and seems to totally understand the toxic effects of all that cancer patients go through with conventional treatment…It is such a relief to have someone who tells you what your organs are going through in a truly empathetic way and actually SUGGESTS remedies and potions and pills to take. The relief is somewhat dissipated when one hands over the credit card fro a mighty big tab---but what price health and feeling good eh?? And at least no going off to Rite Aid to fill prescriptions where I reckon they now suspect me to be some kind of junkie. Though once back home I get a blistering headache as I try to sort through the tons of supplements I have gathered in the last few months and put them into weekly pill boxes divided into morning, noon, evening and bedtime !
So that’s the body sorted---now it’s time for some spiritual sustenance and I beg Nick to do his homework solo for once as mum heads down to Venice for an evening with about 60 folk listening to an Indian mystic named SAHDGURU. He has admittedly, a truly beautiful face with luminous shining eyes and a preposterously peaceful blissed out demeanor that was very lovely and calming. He began about an hour late though and having scoffed about eight little healthy oatmeal cookies I suddenly had a shocking gut ache and my calm turned to panic as I realized the Indian gent was in no hurry with his spiel which began with his childhood and then segued into his early manhood where he realized that he could sit down cross legged to meditate and wake up EIGHT DAYS LATER to find stunned onlookers camped out waiting for him to return to consciousness. A tiny bit boastful but impressive nonetheless. I tried soo very hard to concentrate and take in some pearls of wisdom but next to me sat a heavenly old friend from New York whose son had died about six months ago. I was so stunned and horrified as I tried to imagine her grief and think how I would feel if the unthinkable happened and I ‘lost’ one of my children. It was simply terrifying and made my problems seemed ludicrously miniscule and insignificant just as it rendered the guru’s words impossible to hear for the most part. I recall he said that we must not give others the privilege of being able to hurt or upset us with their behavior or words. Not unlike the message back in the old days when I went to Kabbala . DO NOT REACT. Don’t be reactive. Uh huh. Yeah right. AS IF!
As the hours wore on and I imagined Nick stretched out on my bed watching TV, I regretted very much the fact that I had left my handbag about eight rows further up with another friend. I was trapped and that was all there was to it. Then Question Time began and someone asked about Death and dying peacefully and all that nonsense. I’m not afraid to admit it. I have NO faith and am terrified of dying. But then our man told us we had to make our death a real occasion. We must die with a smile and in great style. He repeated it several times. Yep, we had to move on out with a LOT OF STYLE ! Jeez louise—talk about pressure. Not only with grace but STYLE as well?? Give me a break! It was midnight before I made it back to Hollywood, exhausted beyond belief, so sad for my friend – but at least not filled with too much jealousy for those who could afford his costly four day seminars in LA or month long stays at his Indian ashram. I think it’s fair to say I am SO not spiritual.
Next day I stagger back to santa Monica and am back baring the top half for Dr Bob who frowns and informs me that I have tons of fluid around my huge swollen breast and must be drained immediately. And with no further delay the GIANT horse needles are produced as he totally BLAMES me for it and says it is crystal clear that I have been doing too much. I naturally protested vehemently. Alas, the darling but disloyal daughter told him that I was a shocking liar and that I had spent hours in the garage a day or two ago heaving boxes and looking for paintings and generally acting like some pumped-up circus strong man. He was deliriously happy to hear that his suspicion was right and he ordered me to lay low and START ANOTHER COURSE OF fucking ANTIBIOTICS. Then my Brutus of a daughter mentioned that we were all planning a sortie to Australia the following week and the mild-mannered Dr Bob nearly has a conniption. WHY? He demanded. Because I have family and friends there and I booked it eight months ago I said. And I didn’t get to go last year, I added plaintively. It’s true. Last December was when I felt the lump and the mammograms and biopsies began and then I got the flu and had to move out of my house to rent it and thus, at the very last minute, I drove my children to the airport and being lifelong travelers, especially to Australia, they very happily headed off by themselves feeling rather thrilled I imagine not have an overloaded silly mother tagging along. I wept bitterly and spent Christmas in LA sick as a dog, house sitting in Silver Lake and bawling every time they called. Which was not often.
So I get home, retire to bed, wake up and can’t find the prescription he gave me and dig around for some old leftover antibiotics. Any old ones will do surely to God. And then I do too much and then I lose the bastard antibiotics two days ago somewhere in the house or under my bed but who can tell and then I am back at Dr Bob’s today and I am hugely swollen again and he drains and then, like last time, gets a magnet to find the matching magnet in my expander so he can pump it up through the port – so as not leave any dead space for more fluid to gather and declares that I have obviously have been doing too much and going to Australia tomorrow is out of the question. I weep hysterically with self-pity and obediently head back to Cedars to have it all confirmed by the infectious disease dude—but what’s new? He is beyond conservative…and that’s where it stands…
I AM sad and it sucks…and did I keep the receipts so I can take some of the pressies back for pals downunder???