Don't Let Me Die In A Motel 6 or One Woman's Struggle Through The Great Recession (35 page)

And t
here have been setbacks.
Last
October, I was sitting at my desk about
5:30
(not A.M.!)
, typing away.
Suddenly, I felt pressure on my left arm, as if it were
clamped
in a vise.
Yes, just like that.
More strangeness followed:
my teeth started chatt
ering, I felt dizzy, and I
could barely make it to
the hospital
in Burbank.
As I walked from
my car to the ER
,
I nearly passed
out
three times.

“Please, I can’t wait,” I begged at the ER window.
They took me right away.
My arm was host to a spreading red blotch
and
my fever spiked to 102
:
they nearly packed me in ice
.
After the obligatory six hours, I was shuttled upstairs to a room.
Again
came the
Va
ncomycin
and
now
Cipro.
So I guess
I’m
Anthrax-
resistant.
After
spending
four
days in the ward
,
I got my blood results back
, all confirming
the same thing:
I had a massive strep infection.
I underwent the
usual folly
around IV
’
s (the ER
could not
take blood
!)
and was released
back
to
the wild.
Was this connected
to
my
cancer treatment?  Dr. Pilgrim
says no
.
But I think that
all that lovely treatment caused this outbreak to happen
.
Trust me,
I could head City of Hope.

I look back over
the
pas
t
four
years
and I
can’t believe
I’m
still
a
live
.
So many others
are not
:
the
WaMu
VP who
killed himself
after
the Bank failed
;
Greg
, three
people I know who
died of cancer
recently
. C
ourageous warriors to the end, they could not beat the killer inside
.
Take a silent moment for
Bill, Bobbi, and Joel
.
All over the world, there are thousands being diagnosed
right now
, getting sick from chemo, going bald, and either recovering or dying based on the roll of metastasizing dice.
America
loves to talk about heroes, and
these cancer sufferers stand
firmly
in the ranks
, with
distinction
.
No one except their close friends, famil
y, and
caretakers
know
s
what they endure.
No one besides fellow patients
has seen
the
black vortex they enter when that
chemo port is inserted;
when
the radiation machine
is
aimed
directly at
you
.
Take heart, fellow heroes!
I came out the other side and so can
you, if
Wyrd and your diagnosis
permit
.
Picture yourself wearing that pink
(or blue)
shirt, a gold medal hung
around
your neck as you cross the finish line and raise your hands to the cheers of the crowd!
We know we are survivors, and goddamnit, we will survive!
!

Things are all around better for me.  I got another job at a Big Bank, and the big bucks are rolling in!  I’m sleeping on a real bed, in a place with actual rooms. Aurora is safe for the moment, and the horses luxuriate in large stalls while basking in semi-retirement.

I
often
ask myself
w
hat mistakes I made to end up
as
I did, during the Great Recession.
Every day is
like
Yom Kippur as I contemplate my sins.
First and foremost, I shouldn't have
overspent in the Fat Times.
I’ve
come to learn
the value of money,
along with
the value of people.
Ninety-Nine Cents and recycling still form a
big
part of my world. 
However
, I can tell you this:
unless I
’d
had a
hundred grand
stashed
, I couldn't
have
made it through
.
Ultimately,
I couldn't have
sidestepped
bankruptcy, foreclo
sure, and repo
.

I shouldn't have married a man I’d known for only three days.
I think we can all agree on this one.
I shouldn't have been so angry in dealing with Aurora, since that just made two
foaming-mad
people.
In fact, her Hollywood street name was “Hot Rage.”
I shouldn't have delayed my mammogram,
having
had breast cancer before
.
And
I shouldn't have been so bitter tow
ard
Rachel
.
I lea
pt to conclusions and judged her
as
harsh
l
y
as she judged me.

The
ultimate
lesson I’ve learned is that I’m no longer afraid of death.
I’ve seen its
gaping
skull, I’ve looked
in its rolling black eye, I’ve felt the sting of its
robes
, and I’ve said to it:
“Feh.”
It holds no terror for me.
And here’s the final secret, the
biggest revelation of all:
until you lose your fear of death, you cannot fully live.
I believe,
firmly, in Olam
Ha-Ba
:
The World To Come.
That this
earth
signifies
mere
baby steps on our journey,
and
there’s a
cornucopia of riches
just
on the other side.

I bid you farewell, Dear Reader.
Never give up hope.
The Thing With Feathers is just around the corner, so don’t lose your chance to meet it and shake its
four-toed
claw
.
As Voltaire said, “We must cultivate our garden.”
In other words, enjoy!
And save a nice fat carrot for me.