A few years ago, when I was recovering from my Whipple procedure, a friend got me Tommy Lee’s autobiography, Tommyland. When it comes to mortality, I usually think about Lee’s bandmate Nikki Sixx and how if I lead a life more virtuous than that of the Mötley Crüe bassist, I too will see the bright light of the afterlife when my time comes. Recently, however, my friend and I were talking about Tommy Lee and the Cameo service, where you can pay to have celebs send personalized messages.
I’m pretty gullible and unsuspecting and easily surprised. For example, I knew about my surprise birthday party a few years ago because my ex told me about it during an argument so I had to act surprised when it happened. I’m a terrible actor, but the thing is, I’m still so unsuspecting, that I was still kind of surprised when I arrived to the party. Usually surprises fall apart at the last minute, when someone who has to get you someplace starts acting weird.
On Thursday, Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center released me just in time to meet my friends from out of town for a concert we’d planned to attend before I was so sick. I’m really grateful and lucky that once again, they worked so hard to get me out for something important to me.
Fact: If more than two Ohioans assemble, we must identify ourselves in Ohio apparel.
I had a great weekend. (Again, if I could get my body to stop trying to kill me, things would be perfect.) On Friday, my friend who was visiting from Ohio went to dinner with me and my boyfriend then we met up with another friend to see her friend’s band someplace close to my apartment. My Ohio friend was acting a little weird, insisting that we had to go someplace quieter. We walked to a nearby place with a big patio and met up with my friends visiting from Boston and another friend and some of their friends, and she pulled out her phone and said I had to watch something.
Tommy Lee appeared on her phone, and he said my name. He seemed deeply disappointed at my cancer diagnosis, wished me better health, gave a shout out to my cat, and said I had to drink water every time I saw fire. (This last thing was in reference to a viewing of The Dirt my friend and I had at his apartment, where we decided we should all drink whenever we saw sex, drugs, or fire. We didn’t realize there would be so much unexpected fire. We deeply regretted the fire rule the next day.) I’m not sure what my reaction video looks like, but I’m mostly in shock and laughing. About 15–20 of my friends had chipped in to get me a get well message from Tommy Lee. It looks like the secret Facebook group messages were as entertaining as the video itself. I feel like I haven’t even had time to thank everyone. Thank you all from the bottom of my Mötley Crüe-loving heart.
In addition to the message, I came home to a box from a high school friend containing a plush tabby and a coloring book. The plush tabby was soon joined by the real tabbies in the Amazon box. I also got another cat coloring book from another friend this weekend too! Plenty of coloring on the horizon.
The next day, we got brunch and my friend headed back to Ohio, and six of us headed to Governor’s Island. On our way there, we ran into someone else we knew. We strolled around and ate frozen treats before heading into Manhattan to meet another friend and her daughter and her friend. We chose The Smith but I wished we’d chosen another restaurant because The Smith isn’t very good with birthdays, and they unceremoniously put down a cake with a candle with the other desserts. Oh, well. It was still fun. The next day I had a buttery French brunch and more friend time.
I’ve been trying to rally, and I went to one more concert last night. I’m tired of being sick, but today I kind of hit a wall, physically. Everyone keeps telling me to take it easy, and I’m finally tired enough to do so. My blood sugar was weird yesterday and it felt off this morning, and I sometimes get really lightheaded.
I’m done resisting the doctors on the antibiotic front. Saying no makes me feel like I have some control, but I really have to finish this round. Eleven more days after today. Now that I’ve accepted it emotionally though, I’m sometimes not sure if I can physically do this slog through 11 more days. I’m so diminished from being sick since May, and then I’ve been sick from antibiotics for two weeks, and I have about two more weeks ahead of me. Sometimes, I feel like I’m going to physically give out before I cross this finish line.
Tomorrow, I have a check-in at MSKCC, and I’m always worried I’ll get whisked away to the hospital. I’m also getting my hormone levels checked, and that could be an indication as to whether this last treatment worked. I want to know and I don’t want to know. I hope it’s the antibiotics that are making me so sick, because then I might feel better one day.
Until then, I’ll just watch my Tommy Lee video for inspiration.