There’s Always Level 1242

I know, I know, it’s been a really long time since I’ve written a blog. Let me catch you up... in the last five years I’ve lost my father, got married, got breast cancer, lost my mother and then the grand finale, lost my dear little house to Hurricane Helene. I hold HER responsible for this unending funk I’ve been in. Of course losing my parents was no picnic. But my mother, God bless her, decided to leave this earth while I was on a tour bus in Cartagena wearing a straw hat I had just bought for like 75 cents. Receiving the phone call from my sister allowed me to instantly disembark from the tour bus, before arriving at the next stop that involved a lot of steps in 90 degree heat. We got a car back to the hotel, packed our bags and headed to the airport. Somehow while my mother was departing this earth she heard my prayers.

Breast cancer...again... no picnic. I had the whole thing going, the chemo, surgery, radiation etc... There was one bright spot however, at my first chemo session. I was put into a reclining chair and hooked up to what I hoped was life saving medication. As I took in the other poor souls around me I saw one girl squeezing canned cheese onto Ritz crackers. I immediately perked up! Do we all get this poisonous treat from the 70s! I guess they figured with all this medication racing through our veins nothing can hurt us. But alas, no...we were in charge of bringing our own snacks except for graham crackers. They happily supplied us with those. Also juice. A nice variety too. (Just to let you know I am about to have my 5 year check up and I am cancer free and well. Yay!)

What I can’t recover from it seems is losing my house. I miss the view from the windows of manatees swimming and the occasional dolphin swimming by. I miss floating in my pool staring at the clouds. I mourn for the days that will never be of my grandsons jumping to me from the pool ledge and then going inside for snacks with grammy. I miss my kids stopping by unannounced because they happened to be passing. It’s taken a toll. Left me feeling kind of empty and no creativity seems to be within me right now.

As our house was uninhabitable we ended up renting a condo close by. It’s a nice condo with a view of the bay. We sold our house as is and bought the condo. Immediately upon returning home from the closing I walked in and was like “Blech! Let me out!” There’s elevators, other dogs, and you know...people. Like everywhere. Having a dog in a condo for me is like going on a seek and destroy mission. I creep around corners ready to pull back if we run into other dogs. There are two Frenchies here, Milo and Otis. My docile labradoodle turns into Cujo if we encounter them. They are the bane of our existence. So far I’ve pulled my shoulder and fallen on my ass in trying to avoid them.

The people are lovely. It’s the old it’s not you it’s me. So we put the condo on the market. This coincided with my waking up one day and realizing I’m no longer middle aged I’m old as seen by the hair I found growing on my face in just the right light. So I ordered one of those shaving things that literally scrapes the first layer of your skin off. I had to plug it in next to my bed because it has a weird USB thing I plug into my computer.

Months passed before we finally had a showing. As we sat downstairs waiting for them to be done looking at all our stuff I perused all the homes for sale and made a list of the ones I would consider living in. All that work wasted as the lookers did not buy our condo. Here’s the thing. I think I know why they didn’t buy it and it’s not because there are five others for sale and they all have hardwood floors and we have carpet. I think they saw that shaver thing next to my bed and thought it was some weird sex thing and were so totally grossed out they turned and left without even looking at our built in office and brand new LG refrigerator. And I can only hope my realtor has a hairy face too and knows what it is for.

Anyway, ugh it is what it is. I drive past my old house every day. (I have to to get to my grandson’s house not doing it on purpose) That is a huge bright spot for me, my grandsons! So far I have 3 with another on the way. M says that’s when I’m my old self, when I’m with them and it’s true their faces just transport me to a happy place. My therapist says I need something to do and I’m guessing she means something other than playing my Mahjong tile game which not to brag but I’m on level 1241. So I’m returning to my first love, my writing...see if I can make something happen here. And if I can’t...well, there is always level 1242.