She called me a few days ago. It was the day after I went to visit my parents unexpectedly. It was a surprise visit. Well a surprise to them not to me. I knew my brother was going to be there. I heard from word on the street there was Puerto Rican food lying around because nurse muneca's sister was visiting. Not one but two!! Two funny, loving, puerto Rican women who replace Y with J and cook in the house??? Oh yea. I picked myself up to get my lame tired ass in the shower, curled my hair (I've been playing with colors/hairstyles when I have energy because it's our last days together) gauzed my incisions up, found a hat and asked Hercules to drive me there.
It was during this visit where I shoveled pasteles, arroz con grandules and hornado in my mouth (somehow I found strength for that huh?) that she asks to see my recent incisions. Off we go to her bathroom for her to check and ask questions. So her call the next day was to continue checking in on me and "the new situation" we are monitoring.
She starts: Hola beauty! Dime como te sientes, mi Nina? Hi beauty, tell me baby girl, how are you feeling?
To take things slow and ease her into my confession I start with "Well, still some discomfort, and I'm nervous about my misbehaving skin section". She calmly tells me I need to keep doing what I'm doing, assures me all will be ok, to be patient and pray.
Weeeeeelllll now here comes the confession. I have to tell nurse muneca that I have def not been behaving, I def have not been patient and the words that tumbled out of me as of late were the farthest from prayers you could get.
Que?! Que paso she asks me?? What?! What happened?? I would like to know that myself I think. Basically to sum it up I had a temper tantrum and behaved like a 2 year old child. Except that innocent children who are two years old don't know the words I used. I'm pretty sure bout that.
It was a simple morning between two people where a plate dropped, a tiny spark that was there (tension) quickly moved into a flame then finally a blazing roaring fire that resulted in me throwing vegetables and baking products with sounds that were similar to @&?! %#€? and things that sounded like shove this sweet potato up your %#€? @&$ And here while you are at it take this stick of butter and $&@? %#€. All resolved in my usual calm manner 20 minutes later where I sincerely apologized and begged forgiveness. I wasn't the only sinner in the room but this is my blog not theirs. In any case all is good. Except for the terrible fact that I'm left with this movie image of myself behaving in a way that I despise playing over and over. It's a bitter pill I've been walking around with for a few days now. Ay chi wa wa.
I had to think on this real hard if I would blog this story and I def had to breath on it before I told nurse muneca. I am truly embarrassed and ashamed. I really am. I don't think I have done anything remotely close to or in the neighborhood like that in over 15 years. I dislike raised voices. I avoid heated confrontation to a degree I have perfected the art of the peace out/dip out when I see that trouble brewing, including my own. When I described it to a friend later she says (while laughing hard asking me did you reaaally throw that?) well good, finally you are letting it out! You needed that I think. Maybe it helped you? I tell her in a dry monotone voice that no one ever needs to throw a sweet potato and butter while cursing. Surely we can't be a society of people that do such things. It doesn't have the intended effect, that it borders on ridiculousness, as well the important fact it didn't make me feel better. It made me feel worse. I was shaking for over 3 hours.
You see, I told her then, that I read the fine print on the cancer card. I didn't see anywhere it's says I get to be the meanest, angriest person in the room. That I don't get to misbehave on the regular. And tell people how unfair things are. But in a really, really salty way. And it sure doesn't say I get to throw things around. Good Lord why did I have to throw a stick of butter and a sweet potato?? Really??
But I go on to say it also didn't mention I had to be the MOST positive or uplifted person around. I feel strongly others too must work their brain muscle to be the best person they can as much as they can, situation permitting. This was a big one for me because I tend to think that telling others how to act and behave is an exercise in futility and quite frankly not my job. I say it's just that during this time I know I am weaker mentally and physically, although most times I'm pretty good, I worried out loud my usual strength of tongue holding or being super calm with histrionics happening around me might fail at times. Or worse, just upright leave me for good.
So after I confess to nurse muneca my terrible actions and behavior (leaving out exact words to protect the innocent-she got the idea) I stopped and waited for her to absorb this.
Nurse muneca: oh my God! Jew did dat?
Me (quietly): Yes. I did. I'm embarrassed.
Nurse muneca: jew brat!! Jew better sta praying. (With her accent she rolls the br sounds and makes it sound really really bad)
Me: Si, voy a resar (yes I will pray)
These I have handy in my favorites on my phone for occasions like this.
It was during this visit where I shoveled pasteles, arroz con grandules and hornado in my mouth (somehow I found strength for that huh?) that she asks to see my recent incisions. Off we go to her bathroom for her to check and ask questions. So her call the next day was to continue checking in on me and "the new situation" we are monitoring.
She starts: Hola beauty! Dime como te sientes, mi Nina? Hi beauty, tell me baby girl, how are you feeling?
To take things slow and ease her into my confession I start with "Well, still some discomfort, and I'm nervous about my misbehaving skin section". She calmly tells me I need to keep doing what I'm doing, assures me all will be ok, to be patient and pray.
Weeeeeelllll now here comes the confession. I have to tell nurse muneca that I have def not been behaving, I def have not been patient and the words that tumbled out of me as of late were the farthest from prayers you could get.
Que?! Que paso she asks me?? What?! What happened?? I would like to know that myself I think. Basically to sum it up I had a temper tantrum and behaved like a 2 year old child. Except that innocent children who are two years old don't know the words I used. I'm pretty sure bout that.
It was a simple morning between two people where a plate dropped, a tiny spark that was there (tension) quickly moved into a flame then finally a blazing roaring fire that resulted in me throwing vegetables and baking products with sounds that were similar to @&?! %#€? and things that sounded like shove this sweet potato up your %#€? @&$ And here while you are at it take this stick of butter and $&@? %#€. All resolved in my usual calm manner 20 minutes later where I sincerely apologized and begged forgiveness. I wasn't the only sinner in the room but this is my blog not theirs. In any case all is good. Except for the terrible fact that I'm left with this movie image of myself behaving in a way that I despise playing over and over. It's a bitter pill I've been walking around with for a few days now. Ay chi wa wa.
I had to think on this real hard if I would blog this story and I def had to breath on it before I told nurse muneca. I am truly embarrassed and ashamed. I really am. I don't think I have done anything remotely close to or in the neighborhood like that in over 15 years. I dislike raised voices. I avoid heated confrontation to a degree I have perfected the art of the peace out/dip out when I see that trouble brewing, including my own. When I described it to a friend later she says (while laughing hard asking me did you reaaally throw that?) well good, finally you are letting it out! You needed that I think. Maybe it helped you? I tell her in a dry monotone voice that no one ever needs to throw a sweet potato and butter while cursing. Surely we can't be a society of people that do such things. It doesn't have the intended effect, that it borders on ridiculousness, as well the important fact it didn't make me feel better. It made me feel worse. I was shaking for over 3 hours.
You see, I told her then, that I read the fine print on the cancer card. I didn't see anywhere it's says I get to be the meanest, angriest person in the room. That I don't get to misbehave on the regular. And tell people how unfair things are. But in a really, really salty way. And it sure doesn't say I get to throw things around. Good Lord why did I have to throw a stick of butter and a sweet potato?? Really??
But I go on to say it also didn't mention I had to be the MOST positive or uplifted person around. I feel strongly others too must work their brain muscle to be the best person they can as much as they can, situation permitting. This was a big one for me because I tend to think that telling others how to act and behave is an exercise in futility and quite frankly not my job. I say it's just that during this time I know I am weaker mentally and physically, although most times I'm pretty good, I worried out loud my usual strength of tongue holding or being super calm with histrionics happening around me might fail at times. Or worse, just upright leave me for good.
So after I confess to nurse muneca my terrible actions and behavior (leaving out exact words to protect the innocent-she got the idea) I stopped and waited for her to absorb this.
Nurse muneca: oh my God! Jew did dat?
Me (quietly): Yes. I did. I'm embarrassed.
Nurse muneca: jew brat!! Jew better sta praying. (With her accent she rolls the br sounds and makes it sound really really bad)
Me: Si, voy a resar (yes I will pray)
These I have handy in my favorites on my phone for occasions like this.
1 John 4:18
There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear, for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love.
1 Peter 4:8
Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins.
