Being in bed 24/7 without the ability to lift your head will cause your brain to accept the unacceptable…Reality TV Shows. I began to watch them as though watching a poorly rehearsed train wreck. In horror, I couldn’t look away. At first it was a Project Runway seven-hour marathon which I slobbered and dozed through. Then Yard Crashers/Bath Crashers/House Crashers/Income Property/Dear Genevieve/Run My Renovation (RMR). I even submitted to RMR on line…But they don’t really send out cute Joni. In fact they don’t do anything and that is good. I can’t imagine a reality show at my house with me on hepatitis c treatment. ” Hello, pretend the camera’s not in your face and tell us how happy you are with your new environment friendly parrot poop kitchen. The newspaper floor’s recyclable”.
Going through hepatitis c treatment is sort of like going through labor. There would be zero population growth if women could remember the first one. I have one child. She was born full breech. I remember. So why go through a second round of hep c treatment? Fear of the pain of a cirrhotic death. Again pain avoidance. I can’t believe I used the old “going through labor” analogy. I hate it when women do that. I won’t even have lunch with those women. Shut the Fuck Up!
I had lofty dreams for this down time: learn Spanish, keep a diary, write a book, plan a big trip, read a couple of classics, walk every day, meditate. What was I thinking? That I was just gonna have a fractured spine? I’ve had that and got back on the horse, no shit.
DIY: I couldn’t do shit but got it in my head that my bedroom needed french doors, the living room color was too dark (Osso Buco) and the dining area needed a skylight. I hated the bed sconces, was sick of the plaster patch on the ceiling and the thumping ceiling fan. All must be fixed right now (I know, redundant). Even in the best of health, I cannot do anything myself. My dad told me years ago, when I was trying to help him remodel my house “Good thing you went to school” Truer words were never spoken. Poor Spanky tried to explain the error of my crazy thinking process without me going straight to sobbing. I have no explanation for the sobbing. Except to say that my every emotion could and would leap tall logic in a single bound.
Cooking shows: I watched them and it looked so easy. Giada, Ina, Nadia G’s Bitchin’ Kitchen (my favorite because it is a comedy too), Top Chef, Chef Roble, Chopped, Chopped Champions. I couldn’t watch Iron Chef, too many moving parts. Why would I watch cooking shows when I couldn’t stand the taste or smell of food? I don’t know. I dropped 20 pounds and never moved. Basal metabolic rate.
I couldn’t watch my favorite game show, Jeopardy. I felt like I stroked and couldn’t find my answers. Couldn’t watch The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. It required knowledge of current events to get the jokes. Couldn’t watch movies with a story line. The Marx brothers were good but again too many moving parts. I found myself watching Ice Loves Coco with Ice T (my personal bottom) and The Price Is Right with Drew Carey. I shit you not. Drew Effing Carey! Snoop Dog was on for his charity. That man knew the price of everything from Zesta saltines to a Harley. He won $75K for an old lady. I think she shit herself on stage.
How did I get from “I don’t watch TV” to “The Price is Right”?
I couldn’t read, the books were too heavy and my concentration too light. During the second treatment I listened to books on tape. The important issue was the sound of the reader’s voice.
At the kids section of the library I got books on how to draw. I sat in bed and drew dinosaurs, flying squirrels and bunny rabbits. I drew the two trees in the pasture through our three seasons. Then with the drought last year, I drew them dead. My art work was terrible, but that wasn’t the point. Since my analytical brain was pithed, I went to my dormant-since-five-year-old creative brain. I now have a closet full of art stuff/supplies and I like it. I never show my stuff to anyone but Spanky. He never judges. He calls me an artist. It makes me squirm. I hung one painting on the wall (on a push-pin) but not where folks would notice. I still listen to books on tape a lot. Still can’t sleep.
Don’t forget to spay and neuter your pets Bob Barker. BTW, turns out Drew Carey has a blog. Don’t we all?