Three Deaths

I hate everything today.

The past 2 to 3 weeks has culminated in a series of events that have put me over the edge. I am angry, restless, tired and bitter. I want destroy everything. I would say i just don’t care anymore. But it’s actually the opposite. I care so much that I just want to turn it off and make it stop.

Event #1) An old friend from high school had asked me to donate some of my hand made jewelry items to a fund raising event she was doing for her mom. Her mother had been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. She was mid chemo. The bills were too much and she needed help. So a ziti dinner with an auction was created. We talked back and forth. I did my best to give her advice to help her through the experience. I donated a bunch of items and sent gifts for both her and her mother to keep. I followed up with her often to see how her mom was holding up. Her Mom didn’t make it through treatment and passed away. I missed the wake due to an event I was suppose to be vending at. I wasn’t part of the process or anything but it still saddened me to hear. I still haven’t reached out to my friend privately.

Event #2) A few days later Robin Williams killed himself. Normally celebrity deaths don’t mean much to me. Usually an Oh really, that’s too bad. Then life goes on. This one struck me. When I was a kid growing up, my mom was a bipolar (manic) depressive. It was a struggle. She was a wreck more often then not. I was a big fan of escapism. I watched tv, hid out up in my room. I lost myself in music and comedy. Especially stand up comedy. Even from about age 7 my Mom would allow to watch things that were rated R. Robin Williams was my very favorite.I use to do his routines on the playground. He was very public about his manic episodes. It gave me hope. He gave me hope. His loss felt unreal and tremendous. Someone I so looked up to had just thrown in the towel. What the fuck man. I feel stupid even saying it. I felt stupid for mourning it. I never thought I could be so effected by someone I did not know personally. But I was and still am. It was like losing a hero. I don’t know why I said like – it WAS losing a hero.

Event #3) Back in June two of my cousins graduated from college. We had a picnic to celebrate. Their maternal grandmother was there. She was at many of our family events. Even though their Mom and Dad had divorced Grama Jane always came to our events and stayed close with my uncle. She always felt like her daughter had wronged him.Their relationship stayed in tact despite the divorce. At this picnic she asked me questions about my Cancer, chemo and radiation. She told me she was sick. She hadn’t told anyone else yet, and wasn’t sure if she wanted to. She said it made just make her daughters fight. That she didn’t think those treatments would be options for her. If I were her, and I thought I could pass away, what would I do? I thought for a few minutes and gave her my most honest answers. I said in my experience, sometimes people fear what they don’t understand. When you say I am sick, or I have Cancer, sometimes people retreat. They think about their own mortality and freak out. On a few occasions you will find wonderful folks who do think of you first. I told her she should go out and live. Do all the things she wants to do with her time left. Celebrate every minute. And FIGHT! Fight like a mother fucker. Don’t take no as an answer. Look into other doctors. Other therapies. But as far as telling her family, kids, etc. I told her that is her choice. If she thinks it will give her more grief then good, then go out the way SHE wanted to. She told me there was a will, that she just didn’t know where it was. That she planned on spending her last days doing all the legalities. I told her if that isn’t how she wanted it to end, don’t do it that way. Please go and enjoy every moment you have left. I literally said let someone else deal with that. Just take care of yourself and live.

I have serious guilt over what I said. I didn’t tell anyone what I knew at her request. Even though the whole way home I thought to myself, I should call my Uncle and tell him. I didn’t. I rationalized it as it’s her choice, not mine.

On Monday of last week my cousins called me from the airport in NYC saying they were stuck there. They flew in with no plan. It was 6 am. I happened to wake up and see the message. I scrambled to get some cash together, fought with The Smoker to wake up and drive. We zoomed through commuter traffic, picked them up and brought them to the hospital. Five hours later Grama Jane died. 

I was the only one from my mothers side of the family besides my cousins that showed up to her memorial service. My heart was heavy. I quickly learned that NO ONE knew she was that sick. NO ONE. Except me. A week ago she told everyone she had a few weeks left, then it became she has 72 hours left. Then she was just gone. She never got the Will or insurance stuff together. No one knew why she was so stubborn and didn’t say or do anything more then she did…. I knew why.

Yesterday I had a dinner for my family. An impromptu goodbye party for my cousins. Low key and fun. Pizza, wine, video games for the kids. More people then i expected showed up. My cousin Dan started talking about her Grama’s passing. I started to tell her that she was asking me about Cancer therapies back at the end of June. I didn’t tell her the full extent of the conversation. Just made mention. She burst into tears and said that she was so angry. I panicked. I don’t know why i had even opened my mouth so soon after the passing of G.J.. Dan said why was she so stubborn! That means she knew she was sick! She fucking knew and she didn’t tell anybody! I would have come home sooner! I would have spent more time with her! I am so mad at her! I immediately shut my mouth. Saying more would have only caused her more pain. I apologized over and over.

Dan left last night. Today I have spent all day with my heart heavier then ever. I have such guilt. Guilt for not speaking up as soon as I knew. Guilt for still being alive. Guilt for surviving. Guilt for not doing more for Grama Jane. I had her contact info. I should have called or emailed SOMETHING to check in!

All of these events have just rocked me. I am a grumpy angry mess. And I hate myself even more for knowing how much pain my cousins are in and that I could have eased it. Instead I made it worse. 

Ever since my own Cancer, I have felt like this weird messenger to other Cancer patients. I meet people and they tell me their secrets. They cry. In many cases I have never even met them before. I think getting to the brink of death and coming back sends people a message. Other Cancer patients and survivors maybe sometimes need that. But when they don’t survive. When they aren’t here anymore it fucking devistates me. All I can think is why am I still here and you aren’t. 

I can’t even talk about it anymore.

Jokes to Save the Day

In my little tailspin I have started watching more stand up comedy. As a kid stand up comedy was total escapism for me. My mother was a diagnosed manic depressive, now called Bi-polar Disorder. She would have these intense mood swings, social anxiety and suicide attempts. I would never know what I was coming home to as a kid getting off of my school bus. Sometimes she’d be fine, laughing, smiling, making dinner, watching Oprah. Sometimes she would be enraged and tell me to leave her alone and lock herself in her room. Sometimes it would be much darker, she’d be trying to slit her wrists or hang herself. One time I came home and she was just gone. She ran away, hopped on a train to anywhere and didn’t plan on coming back. Needless to say – I needed the comedy in my life. From a young age I learned that life was shit and to escape the drama before it killed me.

Naturally, I fit the criteria of most stand up comic these days! Someone who had a real bad upbringing and used humor to save them or simply get them a different kind of attention. I remember in the fourth grade getting labelled as the kid with the crazy mom. People felt so fucking bad for me. My mom was the one who would flip out at parent teacher conferences and have to be escorted out. My mom was the one who tried to beat the shit out of the school nurse’s daughter for touching my mother’s bags during a chaperoned class trip. Right around 4th grade was when I started doing impressions and telling jokes on the school yard. I literally started working up an act.

I did Humphrey Bogart, Joan Rivers (I was notorious for yelling CAN WE TALK?!? during reading hour.) I did an okay Judy Garland, I tried to do Elvira for a while. In high school I did a spot on Tori Amos when the song God came out. One of my first crushes was on Dennis Miller and his hepcat comedy ways. I would watch comedy specials that were rated R and try and retell the jokes in a more PG format at school for my friends. I stole a LOT of Robin Williams’ routines as a kid. I didn’t know he was on coke. I just thought he was kinda hyper, like me.

Jill and Eugene Mirman

So it seems only naturally that at this time where I am trying to heal myself that i have turned back to my love of comedians. This past year I have reconnected with some of my old favorites, gathering new ones as well. Joan Rivers and her Youtube show In Bed With Joan, Louis CK is fucking genius, Marc Maron who I just recently re-discovered as a result of Louie and his WTF podcast. I literally just finished his series Maron Season 1 yesterday on Netflix. I can’t believe he is the same guy that was an angry NY dude that looked kind of like Mitch Hedberg. I am a huge fan of Jerry Seinfeld’s series Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee.  I adore Tina Fey, I made all of my friends read Bossy Pants and watch 30 Rock. I like Jeff Garlin quite a bit, his stand up is classic, and I like him a lot on the Goldbergs. Sarah Silverman is good. I can get annoyed by her but I love how she just comes out balls to the wall and says whatever she wants. She inspires me to say Cunt a lot more. I dig Doug Benson and Getting Doug with High is fun, Natasha Leggero is pretty bad ass I hope to see more of her. I recently saw Eugene Mirman live which was awesome, I got to meet him after the show and take a picture with him. I dig Maria Bamford, Amy Schumer, Patton Oswald, David Cross, Chris Rock, Bob Saget, so many more.

Yesterday I attempted to write some jokes. And I mean ATTEMPT. In person I can be pretty razor tongued and quick on my feet. But translating that to paper. Woah, way harder then I thought! I think it’s going to take some time before I actually write a good one let along say one to someone. It’s been cathartic though. I felt better. And it helped me turn some of my self loathing and depression into something more positive.

It may not be a forever kind of hobby. At some point I need to be artsy craftys again and try making a living off my work. But in the fallow time of January, where the last thing anyone wants to do is buy more stuff, a good joke may be just what I need. Who knows, if I can actually get some of my work sold, maybe I can take an improv class or something.