Martha, Barbaro and Shipwreck

Melissa’s surgery went well. The doctor said the spleen just about jumped out. We won’t know for a few weeks if it works. That’s average. But it may be apparent even more quickly. But for right now, we’re happy that it went well, and she did not need any blood. She had a lot of pain after the surgery, and was not able to move much, but in a few hours, she picked up.

She was really peaceful about it all. I guess given everything else, this is small stuff. She said beforehand that lately with God and her it’s been all about trust. So she wasn’t worried.

When Melissa went in for the first chemo in 2005, it was when Martha Stewart was getting out of jail. There were news stories, and everyone was talking about Martha, feeling sorry for Martha. I was not too sympathetic; if I had done what Martha did, the cavity search would still be going on. Melissa was really mad, tho. She said that Martha did something wrong and was getting out of jail, and there Melissa was, having committed no crime and starting a two-year sentence (that’s what she called her chemo regimen… little did we know!)

Then came Barbaro back in the Spring. That was crazy. A horse was treated better than most humans, but again, there’s Melissa being irradiated. The cynic inside her said our lives must be really shallow if we get so worked up about a horse. And it only makes it worse if you say it’s because there’s so much money involved… It’s one of those moments where you laugh at how things don’t change. Wesley wrote a great essay more than 200 years ago, I think it’s called “On the Present Scarcity of Provisions.” Basically, he was decrying the idea that there are too many people to feed when the best land in England goes first to horses for racing then to grain for whiskey. Wake up, Kentucky!

And now it’s that dude who had to get rescued because he was trying to sail around the world and his boat sank. I am glad they rescued the guy, but at some point you have to wonder how come no one ever says to themselves, “I need an extreme rush! I need to face down danger and possible death! I want to do something that will demand focus and endurance! Even if I can’t get leukemia, can I at least take 105 minutes of radiation and chemo that can cause secondary cancers? Hoo-ah!” Somehow it’s cool to have to call everybody in to get you off a mountain, out of the sea, or cut off your own arm because you had to have that rush. This has been a two-year rush, but where are all those pansies?

You see why I like Cake’s song, “The Distance,” so much:

No trophies, no flashbulbs, no flowers, no wine
He wrestles with something he cannot define
Bowel-shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse
Assail him and impale him with monster-truck force