Decades

I liked my 40s. It felt like I'd finally reached a more or less balanced, happy adulthood. I'm not saying that I was unhappy or even primarily unhappy in my 20s and 30s. No. They were, however, more emotionally turbulent decades. Essentially, a 20 year long, late adolescence. Yeah, OOF!

Adolescence in that I was constantly searching, exploring, navel gazing, overdoing, spinning off into the clouds and, often as not, being awkward as all hell. Mondo credit goes to all my friends who stuck around during those years; the ones who helped me survive them.

Which brings me to my 40s – a time of new, relative maturity and emotional stability. What first comes to mind are memories of The Amazing Bob and I giggling like kids – all the damn time or close to it.

Damn convenient timing – all that happy. 40 was the year that my bod got real stupid for a real long stretch.

40 saw the long anticipated second brain fry up. Taking the entire big tumor bean out that year would've been good BUT then I'd be deaf. My absolutely brill docs were balancing tumor-free yummyness with me getting more mileage out of the old auditory system. Their decision gave me six more music packed years.

At 43 I was diagnosed with a nasty-ass back leviathan which threatened to steal my legs and all sensation from the tits down (but didn't thanks to the awesome Doc Barker!)

In my 44th I began an experimental 'round of radiation that was supposed to, potentially, shrink the tumor fragments and preserve my hearing. Didn't work AND I was severely nauseous for more than a year. Wheee!

And then, at 46, I had the, finally unavoidable, operation that took my hearing.

Seems wickedly depressing, no? Yes, of course. And no. TAB and I goofed and giggled our way through it all. On one of the big surgery days, suited up in spectacular johnny finery and waiting to be rolled out from the pre-op wings – Jen, Oni, TAB and Celeste were snug around the bed jawing take-her-mind-off-her-fear randomness.

And then, of a sudden, TAB and I both spied a large box of plastic exam gloves just sitting out, unguarded...vulnerable and everything. Why'd this catch our eyes? At the time I was doing a lot of glaze chemistry. I had to wear gloves when I mixed up the medicine and these, versus dish washing gloves, were the best, most appropriate for the job. *PING* Grinning madly, clearly thinking the same devilish thing, he opened my bag and I threw in the goods. We fell into a wild giggle fit which, at first, worried Jen, Oni and Celeste. Has fear driven them 'round the bend? Ah no. When the going got tough, TAB and I always got silly. That was our thing. If we gotta live through scary bad shit, let's at least have some damn fun with it. Sheesh!

J, O and C caught on. The five of us became a wee crime family. We would've cleaned the pre-op exam cube out (tissues, we need those, right? What's this doohickey? Anyone need this?) but the nurses came in to check on us – apparently all the laughter was.....emmm.......possibly disruptive to the others awaiting surgery. Huh. OK.

And then I got my OR stage call. As though I was leaving on a cruise ship, still wiping laughter tears away, we all waved bye-bye as the nurse wheeled me away into the unknown.