Day: May 17, 2006

I admit, I get tenacious about shit. Sometimes it’s stupid shit that makes James flip out and think I’m going to get into a fistfight at a concert because I’ve finally had it with the drunk-ass woman who just whacked me upside the head and is jumping around shout-singing, and yes, while I had no interest in a fist-fight, I did want her TO STOP SHOUTING and JUMPING and WHACKING ME IN THE HEAD. I have a great sense of entitlement that is closely linked to “right and wrong” and the standards I have for myself. Another example of this? I was extremely annoyed at the clerk at Target this morning who DID NOT RESPOND when I said “Good Morning, how are you?” I made a mental note of her name & considered calling the store later. Yes! I am a bitch! I demand to be greeted before I hand over money!

I know this, and I try to keep some of the indignation & daily warring for Truth, Justice & The Jennifer Way in check. But there are things that I find absolutely unacceptable, and my father’s battle with cancer and the doctors and the information, or lack thereof, have all conspired to send me spinning into an outer-space orbit of rage and tenacity. For instance, they didn’t tell him that radiation would make him weak. IT DOES. He needs to KNOW this, because otherwise he feels like he’s simply DYING, not experiencing side effects. Now, he has horrible sores inside his mouth, so painful, he has been dropping weight, can’t eat, can’t drink, is in unbearable pain. Well. I just don’t stand for that. I could hardly hear him on the phone yesterday, his mouth was so dry. He faintly said he’d call the doctor, as I kept prodding & pushing & saying that there had to be things they could do, and then I just said, “Save your voice, save your strength, I’m calling them right now.” Which didn’t solve everything, because the nurse started asking me things like “does he have white spots?” Shit, lady, I don’t know. The point is, he’s probably dehydrated, he isn’t eating, all of that’s making him weaker, and I don’t care if you don’t think the sores were caused by the radiation, don’t argue that with me, the point is YOU NEED TO FIX THIS. I checked back at the end of the day & they had called him, talked about his symptoms & he’s going in to their office today so they can see him & get him something – my fear was that he’d be more susceptible to infection with the sores, along with his general health & lack of nourishment. I will give the doctor’s office this, they take my calls, call me back, and allow me to push issues and questions on to them like the steamroller I can be.

I know I cannot singlehandedly cure his cancer, nor can I make everything better. But I just don’t understand accepting things the way they are, when there have to be SOME solutions that can make life easier. My friend’s mother-in-law told me she was prescribed a solution that she used on the sores in her mouth, to numb the pain. I wanted to scream at the sky, SEE! THERE’S STUFF HERE! There are solutions. It’s hard, because I know he doesn’t have a lot of strength in all this, and he’s very, very sad. I’m just grateful that he taught me to question everything, to never assume everyone else just knows the answer and to trust my own intelligence. Yeah, it might get me dangerously close to a fistfight sometimes, but I’m willing to hang on to this piece of myself, if it lets me help my dad, even helps just a small bit in all of this.

So, I decided to head over to a ‘bitty soccer game’ last night; my friend Beth’s daughter Amy has been practicing & playing in the YMCA league the past few weeks, and their games are just south of our house.

Let me just say that watching 4 & 5 year olds play soccer, and I use the word “play” quite loosely here, is one of the funniest things you could ever ask to see. They’re all different sizes & heights, but the jerseys are all the same size. So some of them are dwarfed in their uniform, others look like it fits just right. Direction is a big thing most of the players still need to work on. Understanding the concept of making a goal is also optional. One little girl just idly lay in the grass, watching from a distance. Three kids lined up at the goal, even though the ball was at the other end. One child got control of the soccer ball, and kicked it right on out of the boundaries, and headed to the next field with the ball, with about 5 of his teammates all running behind him. There were a couple of boys, almost ringers by comparison, who really got into the game, and you know that they’ll continue to play the game as they get older. The rest, well, they were just plain cute. Funny to watch, funnier to see them struggling to figure out which way to kick the ball, and there were almost as many parents on the field as kids. For those just taking pictures, that was fine, but one guy held his kid’s hand the entire time & actually stopped the ball repeatedly so his son could kick the ball. Dude. Cut the cord!

My favorite player, besides Miss Amy, who was splendiferous with her pigtails, pink cleats & gold shinguards (she is a fashion maven at the ripe age of 4), was the little red-cheeked boy on the other team, who, every time the ball arrived at his feet, would bend down, pick it up & then scream bloody murder when the refs came to rescue the ball. Miss Amy just shook her head. She knows you don’t ever touch the ball with your hands!

I tried to take pictures with my cameraphone, but they didn’t come out so well. This is a cute one of Miss Amy from Beth’s site – note those shinguards!!!