medical day 11: entering our blue period: waiting for cancer results. #frightened

if you need any proof how debilitating, frustrating, exhausting and downright irritating (see – we Are English and can Get Cross) illness and recovery from illness and medical leave confinement can be – read yesterday’s post.

today we are entering our blue period (but there are two lovely shots below – we hope you agree) while we wait to see if we have cancer (we’ve stopped calling it C powers, just for today. it felt too cute for what, in effect, is very serious – See! blue period. very blue).

one of the best things about being a (little) older and earning the kind of money that a Day Job like ours pays (why does it feel like a pound of flesh all of a sudden?) is that one can concentrate on having the essentials of a good life: proper tea pot, cups and saucers, elegant surroundings, photographs (framed with a good-sized border) and a well-dressed boudoir with Lots of Pillows, soft blankets, crisp sheets and two throw pillows made from the most silky satin (one was once an old butterscotch slip – we never liked the trim – and had it whipped up into a pillow – we ALWAYS wanted to be the kind of team gloria that walked over to the seamstress – actually a man, now we come to think of it – and said “Juan, would you make us up a pillow from this slip, darling?” and he did a Lovely Job).

in this area of our life we are most inspired (and quite distracted) by Barbara Barry (style crush alert)

“I believe that beauty is healing and inspiring; I want to help others see beauty in all areas of their lives.” – Barbara Barry.

Barbara also influenced us greatly (note how she wears her pearls so elegantly too) in the purchase of our large(ish – we do live in manhattan – in a relatively small apartment) french farmhouse table and bench.

the autumn schedule for (one of the four!) local art-house cinemas has just arrived and we are eagerly planning our movie dates for the next season (one has to book everything early in a town once dominated by the students of Woody Allen’s oeuvre).

OR ARE WE?

are we really planning a post-medical-leave-wellness?

or are we just waiting for the NEXT STAGE?

we assumed (dangerous to do so but we did, based on evidence of good faith) that we would know by now whether we have Cancer.

but we don’t.

apparently when they opened us up (Shudder!) it was “such a mess in there” (and we are So Tidy in RL so that was an indication of Inner Turmoil to be sure) that it took five hours (!!) to remove and replace and respond. we could tell it was hard by the victorian gothic look we were sporting with a neck brace and small’ish bottle of our blood draining away from the wound for 12 or so hours after.

#sigh.

so we don’t yet know.

we Are Prepared (naturally).

we’ve read “all the books”. our fridge is full of leafy greens. we are taking all the minerals they told us to take (because our body isn’t producing them). we are doing everything we’ve been told to do (mostly – see “not taking opiates” in earlier posts).

and still we don’t know.

because as soon as we Do Know – we can do something about it (probably cry in a cab across town to the Waldorf Astoria but this time, not binge on cake, just sit and meet with a quiet and understanding friend who says all the right things and drink tea – lots of tea).

1. scenario A: let’s say we do have cancer. we can join a group (we’re Very Good at that now). get support. clear the decks for healing. ask for help. book all the nuking our body appointments that will undoubtedly follow (we hear the radioactive iodine is no picnic) and we can join the C team and get support and love and probably undergo a Radical Life Change (like leaving NYC at some point – doesn’t everyone in Those Books) and – you know – write the novel, the screenplay, publish a lovely set of photographs, maybe design a range of scarves (we do have a lovely High Forehead and a big set of baby blues) – you know – get into action (we Do live in the USA for a Reason).

2. scenario B: we don’t have cancer (or they removed anything that looked like it might have once been or was about to be).

then what?

apparently then we get tested every six months for years to see if scenario A is on the horizon.

yeah. our life changed already. we are charting a completely new course.

where’s the horizon.

because we can’t see it today.

distracting ourselves with barbara barry.

sometimes (like, for example, an hour and fifteen minutes before one sees the surgeon again to get the results of the “we found something” remark and book a date for surgery) one might just like to be distracted.

when team gloria has such a notion we seek out barbara barry.

her world soothes us in a symphony of barely-repressed crisp linens, seductively silky satin throw pillows, elegant china patterns and the abundance of an aesthetic from the early 1930s – all southern california sunshine, the peek behind a blind, butterscotch ottomans, deep chocolate sofas and chic occasional tables in burnished mirrored finishes with vintage photographs of androgynous bathing beauties in silver frames.

find her here:  now do you see what we mean? delicious. right? we think so. dreamy-sweet and ever so slightly naughty.