Stacy Horn's Blog, page 189

I Can’t Comprehend Time

I wonder if I’m alone in this? One of the things I’ve been doing since Buddy died is obsessing about all the decisions I made about his care and what I could have done differently. It’s insane but it’s a common response to death.

Then I thought, ‘What if I had somehow managed to buy him a couple more months?’ Let’s say it’s October and he’s just died. What would I have gained? What would he have gained? I think it would feel like those two months never happened. Don’t get me wrong, I would give anything for two more months, I’m just saying that had I gotten them, in October I would not be appreciating them, I’d be exactly where I am now.

The only response is what we’re always told to do: appreciate the moment you have now. IE, in October, those two months wouldn’t do me any good. But they would have been great as they happened.

A Ted Talk that made me feel happy for a few minutes.

Some photographs that blew my mind for a few minutes.

Yesterday I asked Finney, “Who’s the cutest cat in the whole wide world?” In the past, whenever I’ve asked him this I always followed it with, “You are! Tied with Buddy, of course.” But yesterday it was just, “You are.”

Week One Without Buddy

It’s been very rough. I’ve been going through the motions, although I have to say, going through the motions helps even if I don’t get any pleasure from them.

For instance, I’ve been swimming a couple of times. I haven’t been able to work myself up to swimming as much as I normally would, but when I swim, even though I don’t enjoy it, I feel less devastated afterwards. The endorphins are doing their job in a different way. Instead of bringing joy, they lessen the pain.

Finney seems fine. He’s getting more attention and of course he’s happy about that. I guess he’s always been waiting to become the king of the desk. Oh that doctor thing is just for a standard yearly checkup. I’m fine!

When It Happens to You: A Novel in Stories by Molly Ringwald

Molly Ringwald once said some very nice things to me about my book Waiting For My Cats to Die (we met at a party). I remember her comments immediately made me think: she wants to write.

Well, her first novel, When It Happens to You, came out this month. Congratulations! It seems to be getting mixed reviews, but that’s fine. All my books do. Waiting For My Cats to Die has alternately been described as funny and heartwarming and as the most depressing book the reviewer had ever read.

One of Ringwald’s mixed reviews sold me however, and here’s why. Everyone who reads my blog knows my cat Buddy just died. A friend, who meant well, told me that it might be good to remember at this time that there are a lot worse things than losing a cat. I wanted to tell him, as a friend, to never say anything like that to a grieving person again.

One of the stories in When It Happens to You is about grief. I don’t know what kind of grief, but the reviewer says this:

When it happens to you, the narrator explains, you will not be comforted by reminding yourself of real tragedies, of floods and earthquakes and land mines. “Your heart doesn’t think,” Ringwald writes. “Your heart is stupid. It doesn’t consider the relativity of tragedy when it breaks.”

Amen, Molly. The heart can’t weigh which grief merits how much mourning. It just breaks. I would buy the book based on that insight alone. What others are saying about her book:

“When It Happens to You is absolutely lovely, a smart, emotionally sophisticated, intricately dovetailed novel of stories. World, I’m telling you now: Molly Ringwald is the real deal.” (Lauren Groff, author of Arcadia )

“Molly Ringwald’s eight electric stories are alive with Joycean insight-piercing, epiphanic moments of terror, humor, and transcendence. Together they offer a deeply moving portrait of modern life.” (Eleanor Henderson, author of Ten Thousand Saints )

Ringwald also wrote an interesting and thoughtful op-ed comparing writing to acting.

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I took this yesterday while I was doing the laundry. I’m comforted when the weather matches my feelings. Sunshine is an insult. Tonight I’m going to a pet bereavement group. Hopefully. I was told to call first in case it gets cancelled.

9/11 and Why are Verizon Land Lines So Expensive?

I can’t bring myself to get rid of my land line. It’s mostly due to 9/11 and black outs. Land lines keep working no matter what. Also, the sound quality is so much better than cell phones.

But when all is said and done I use it very little and it’s costing me $75 a month. I emailed Verizon about how I could bring the price down. They said if I get rid of all the features, caller id, call waiting, and voice mail, I could bring the price down to $46. That still sounded like an awful lot for something I don’t use a lot and now has zero extras. I asked them to break down the charges.

They sent me this:

Verizon Freedom Value Price Guarantee $24.99

Existing Inside Wire Maintenance $7.99

Verizon Freedom Value Price Guarantee FUSF LD $1.06

Taxes, Fees and Other Service Tax $12.22

Estimated Monthly Charges $46.26.

I love the use of “Freedom” in their name for things. I asked them to explain why they are not competitive. They didn’t answer that and suggested this:

“If the overall monthly cost is your main priority, you can change your service to Measured Rate plus remove the Inside Wire Maintenance Plan and long distance. Your monthly after tax rate would be approximately $25.50 per month plus 9 cents per local call.”

I’m going to look at my usage for the past few months and mull this over.

I went out for a walk yesterday and visited a truck the ASPCA had set up outside a church on Houston Street. I was not tempted. Then I walked up to the Petco in Union Square, which also has cats. There was one very sweet cat which gave me a look. I don’t want to get a cat. Finney is old , I think I explained, and he would not appreciate a new cat around the house. But I wanted to get a glimpse into the future, when I would be happy again. I didn’t really get that, but it was a good try I thought.

Bunheads Finale

I’m thinking I can’t post about Buddy every day, although I want to. I keep coming up with different ways to torture myself, and today it’s about all the signs I must have missed which led to increased suffering and earlier death. I’m going to call my vet to go over everything, but I’m afraid he’ll think this is about what he missed.

But about Bunheads. Are you all watching yet? It’s on the way to becoming a really good show, and, more importantly, it makes me feel good.

The finale was positively enchanting. The quality of enchantment is my favorite in books, movies, tv, paintings, everything, and it is difficult to achieve without veering off into sentimentality or something overly romanticized. You have to be honest to get there, and you have to resist going a little too far in whatever direction you’re going. There were moments of enchantment all through the finale, but the best was probably Boo standing up at the microphone to apologize to Carl. The whole thing was an exercise in enchantment. She starts to go too far, and Fanny tells Michele to rescue her, and Michele jumps up. But Boo doesn’t go too far. She says all the right, honest things, and then she and Carl dance to a wonderful version of The Rainbow Connection (Weezer, I learned).

I made myself leave the apartment last night. I walked down to the river and stared out into the water, and for about five minutes it seemed like I’d made the right decision. I didn’t feel good, but it felt better to feel bad out there in the open, with life all around me, and the smell and the feel of the water, and the darkening sky.

But there were at least five different party boats out in the river playing at least five different loud, thumping, bad music and very quickly it turned into this horrible cacophony and I had to leave. I don’t know how I’m going to spend my weekend.

Torturing Myself

Some day in the next few weeks, in a more substantial way, I will thank everyone for all your support. Right now, I’m just sitting the couch watching the news, it’s all I can manage.

Today is as bad as yesterday, just a different kind of bad. Now it’s the undramatic ache of life without the creature I loved so much, enjoyed having around so much. He’s gone. Gone. We would have had a million different interactions between waking up this morning and now, and all of that is over.

I just sit here, unhappy, going over what I could have done better, opportunities lost. I’m remembering feeling so happy on Sunday, after taking Buddy to the oncologist. I had hope. I’m remembering the last time I felt over-joyed, when Buddy was eating with gusto.

It feels so much worse than the last time I lost a cat. Do we just get less resilient as we get older, or is it me?

I feel bad when people tell me someday I will just remember the good times. Because when I do that about Beams and Veets, for instance, I just feel sad and miss them. The sadness doesn’t hurt as much, but for me, it’s not like someday I will be okay about this. (Did I already post about this? Am I repeating myself now?)

I tortured myself for hours last night. Buddy had come to me yesterday morning around 5:30 for pets and to curl up. It was out of the blue because he has been hiding out and staying to himself (which helped confirm that it was time). I pet him but I hadn’t slept in days and I fell back asleep. It was my last chance, basically and I felt like I wasn’t there for him. I let him down.

Then, I couldn’t tell if he wanted me around him yesterday morning, he was back to hiding out. So I sat with him for some of the time, and some of the time not. Now I’m feeling like I should have stayed with him, talked to him, etc., etc., etc. That was also my last chance, my last morning with him.

I thought I might feel better posting about this, but now I just feel insane.

PS: I really really appreciate your comments, but I know that sometimes it’s hard to come up with things to say. What is there to say? It sucks. So please don’t feel compelled to comment. I understand.

I was feeding Buddy every 2 – 3 hours this last week. He preferred to hide out in the bedroom, but it was too hard and traumatic getting him out of his hiding spot each time, so I made him this hiding annex in the living room.

Goodbye Buddy

I’m in agony. I don’t know how to occupy this apartment, or my life. There’s a horrible Buddy-vacuum and it’s so painful being in it. I’m going to wait a few months, and then make a tribute movie to Buddy. I don’t think it would be a good idea to start working on it right away.

For now, the picture below is of Buddy resting after one of his favorite past times, eating books. Also, here are links to a movie of him beginning to destroy a book, and another, causing general desk destruction.

I sang to him this morning, before the vet came. The cats actually never really seemed to like my singing so I picked a small section from Randall Thompson’s The Peaceable Kingdom, and I sang it very quietly. But the words say exactly what I want to be true. It’s from the bible (but adapted by Thompson).

For ye shall go out with joy, joy, joy,

and be led forth with peace:

the mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into singing,

and all the trees of the fields shall clap their hands.

That’s what I used to tell him (and Finney), that all the world and the universe celebrate and rejoice in their existence. Goodbye my little Buddy. I will love you forever.

Tomorrow at Noon Life as I Know it Will be Over

He was always there. This is why losing pets is in some ways worse than losing people. They are much more present, weirdly. (Please note I am saying “in some ways.” Losing people is harder in other ways, of course.) Also, you feel so responsible for them. Oh God. Oh God. Another scar on my heart. I don’t believe life will ever be as good without him in it. (Yes, I know how that sounds. I know I will be happy again, but there will always be a hole, where he once was.)

I took this on November 17, 2011. I’m so grateful iPhoto keeps track of dates.

Buddy Update

Unfortunately, I’m not seeing any improvement from the new chemo. He’s gaining a little weight, but that’s because I’m feeding him every 2 or 3 hours. The oncologist said it might take three days to see a difference, and that’s tomorrow.

I’m hoping against hope to see a change when I wake up tomorrow, but, well, his prognosis was never good. Honestly, I don’t know how I’m going to get through this. Ugh. I forced myself to go swimming, I haven’t left the house in days except to take Buddy to the vet. I had to stop after 25 minutes though. Obviously I was taking no pleasure in it. I feel better though, in spite of all the heart ache. Exercise really does make a difference.

This was my view on 11th Street thirty years ago, except I was looking across from the third floor and this is shot at street level. The family on the third floor had a rope swing in the middle of the living room and I remember seeing a little girl happily swinging back and forth. She also took ballet lessons and sometimes danced around in the same spot. Wow, so that little kid is in her thirties now. I wonder if she grew up to be a dancer.

Buddy’s Meeting w/Oncologist

Because Buddy is in such bad shape, instead of going for something really heavy duty right now, the oncologist started Buddy on a stronger form of the same chemo he’s already on. If he does well, we’ll move up to a more powerful drug.

I should start seeing results in three days. Because it’s a similar chemo it might not do anything. If it doesn’t then that’s that, because the oncologist doesn’t think he can tolerate anything else at this point. The oncologist also wanted to hospitalize Buddy for two days to give him iv fluids, and I passed on that and will instead give him sub-q fluids at home. It’s not ideal, but hospitalizing him was another level of misery I couldn’t heap on Buddy and the doctor said he couldn’t guarantee it would make much of a difference. Buddy also needs a lot of meds and he has to eat whether he wants to or not, but I can manage all of that.

I’m glad I’m doing this. I still feel sick and stressed, but I also have just a slight feeling of being at peace, from making sure I’m doing what I can without going overboard and causing him more distress. So far nothing I’m doing is overly hard on him, except for the vet trip, which is not horrible.

A nice young man feeding birds across the street from The Kills book signing yesterday.