even if i am. (12 page)

chapter twenty-five

in the round

From:
[email protected]
To:
friends
Sent:
Friday, October 28, 3:27 p.m.
Subject:
web+log=blog!

my dear friends and family,

if you are receiving this e-mail

it means that you are pretty frickin’ special,

and in an effort to stay close with each of you

over the next weeks and months,

i have started a blog to post

the latest news/events/thoughts/images,

so that if you’re ever wondering,

you have someplace to go

to see/read/feel the latest.

http://anthonyglass.blogspot.com

love to all.

a.

Thursday, October 27
and all of a sudden

getting ready to meet with my surgeon this afternoon,

writing my list of questions to ask him… kind of slow going…

question
#
1: “how much is this going to suck?”

question
#
2: “how long is this going to suck for?”

this month has flown by,

and as eager as i was for the surgery to arrive,

it’s two weeks away, and i can’t help but feel

like that’s suddenly much closer than i thought.

as a follow-up to the chemo and radiation therapy,

two days ago i had to go in to get an imaging scan

of my abdomen to see how my insides are looking.

as is standard practice, i had to down two liters

of barium contrast (with a delightful citrus flavor).

it was disgusting, and i’m quite sure if i ever need

to vomit on cue in the future, i’ll have plenty of motivation.

still facing the obstacles of blue cross.

writing my appeal to get my surgeon Dr. Beart covered*

feels something like writing a personal statement

to get into a college i know will never accept me.

but maybe if i write something so absolutely brilliant…

right.

*quality costs money.

posted by Anthony Glass at 9:54 a.m.

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Friday, October 28, 2:59 p.m.
Subject:
cuddle

after spending the whole morning

putting my blog together

and sending out the e-mail,

i find myself finally getting into work…

i guess it’s a good thing

since i have to leave before three

to meet my surgeon.

i think you have a lot of reasons

for coming down to cuddle

and should use any one of them to do so.

i will look forward to it.

just in case i didn’t send it before,

here it is again…

this morning was beautiful,

come visit me soon.

"In The Round"
The Cardigans

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Friday, October 28, 3:31 a.m.
Subject:
Re: cuddle

maybe it’s the cold weather

or that my tummy hurts

or that you’re leaving for the day

or that you are meeting with your surgeon

or that I’m not going with

whatever it is…

I miss you.

…

Your family became long-distance caregivers. Your mother gave emotional, spiritual support and dietary advice during each call; stepfather coordinated medical services via telephone. Your brothers distracted you with football and reminisced about childhood. I was thankful when your stepfather decided to fly in from D.C. for two days to meet your surgeon, Dr. Beart, for a second opinion. The first was a general HMO surgeon who didn’t seem skilled enough for such a complex and detailed surgery. He had never even worked on a colon. We looked for and found the best possible colon cancer specialist in Los Angeles. Surely your stepfather, being a doctor himself, would have questions and concerns that were more valid than my petty worries.

We never planned an introduction. I’d meet your stepfather when there was time to visit, not between doctor appointments.

…

I’m a sucker for dance movies —
Footloose
,
Dirty Dancing
,
Step Up 2: The Streets
, it doesn’t matter. I cry. Flashdance nearly hospitalized me. So unless I’m feeling pathetic enough to seek out a serious cathartic moment, I avoid dance movies.

Hope. That’s what gets me, every time. The basic idea of hope, the obstacle to overcome, the music chosen to extract tears — I’m an absolute sucker. “Just let her dance! One. More. Time.” I scream at the television. Dance movies are my kryptonite (long pause for dramatic effect) until now (longer pause). There is something out there far worse than dance movies. Just reading a show description makes me sob. Medical dramas. There’s no form of entertainment more littered with hope than the medical drama. Hope that they save the old man from heart failure, hope that the woman can conceive after the accident, hope that the child doesn’t lose a limb after the near-fatal infection. Hope that his surgery removes the tumor…

Sunday, October 30

it’s all happening…

the weekend has expired,

left itself in small pieces

in forgotten places

(it is sunday night, after all).

picking them up, folding them neatly,

and putting them away

(monday comes better that way).

the best news in recent memory came thursday afternoon,

when meeting with my surgeon

for my post-therapy, pre-surgery consult.

he told me the tumor

had responded very well to the radiation and chemo,

and had dramatically reduced in size

allowing for a much smaller section

to be removed when i have surgery november 16
th
.

i was, however, in mid-exam when i received the news,

and tempered my joy until the anal-scope was removed

and my ass was lowered from the mechanized exam table

that had it perched five feet high in the air.

needless to say,

once i was back on my feet

i was ecstatic.

went to see charlie kaufman at the writers’ guild,

and was reminded of so many things,

so many good things.

halloween party at a house

i don’t live in anymore.

everyone dressed up as someone else.

but there were some familiar faces,

and it was fun, especially the part when i went home,

quiet home.

peaceful home.

feel like a squirrel nesting in here,

trying to get everything ready

with winter fast approaching.

counting my acorns.

good news:

happiness is available for all

in the form of $12 slippers from target.

they might’ve changed my life.

posted by Anthony Glass at 10:45 p.m.

chapter twenty-six

mexico

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Wednesday, November 2, 10:08 a.m.
Subject:
on the road

this is a sweet song,

a familiar voice.

something that makes me

want to pack up the car

and drive south…

yes, i know…

when will that be us?

driving on the mexican coast

on the road to ensenada.

maybe we’ll go somewhere for christmas or new year’s.

would mexico be fun for that?

feels like it.

i’m so curious to see

how i heal from the surgery,

but i’m expecting to be

feeling solid by new year’s.

solid.

seems pretty far off though, huh?

sigh.

"Mexico"
Panda and Angel

…

A naked man Photoshopped from
Playgirl
with a scary resemblance to you adorned the invitation to celebrate Anthony Day.

Anthony’s more than just a sweet piece of ass (and that’s good, because the doctors will be removing that piece soon), so join us as we celebrate his better qualities, whatever they may be! Bring your booze, leave your pants!

…

“So explain it to me again slowly, who are York and Julie?”

I can’t believe we’d been dating for months already. It took me by surprise that I was getting ready for a party to meet your friends. Besides Zach, I hadn’t really met anyone; but I’d heard the stories about drunken-rowdy-night-friends, old roommates, and secret crushes. I knew most of the stories behind the nicknames Antone, Crazy Tony, Thony, and Beautiful Anthony, but I had yet to put a face to the long list of names on the Evite.

York and his girlfriend Julie, the hosts of the party, were first to greet me. You’re right. York is a bit intimidating, and his height doesn’t help. He towered over me, and bombarded me with the uncomfortable question, “Do you know Anthony’s nickname is Glassanova? How do you feel about that?” I didn’t even say hello. Instead I laughed nervously as Julie gave you a kiss, greeting you, “Ah, my beautiful Anthony.” Julie was mostly sweet, though certainly considered me another of the “Glassanova” girls. You never did tell me about that nickname — then again, we never played the “how many people have you been with” game. It’s probably for the best.

Guests began arriving. Zach was one of the first and dating a new blonde who kept me distracted with random conversation. Your good friend Jane flirted with this strange guy named Seth whose annoying voice sounded like a yogi’s chant. Jay came with an ex-girlfriend, a rumored tornado. Former co-workers mingled with current. Ex-girlfriends chatted with friends of friends. A guy smoked on the patio and put too much dip on his chip. A brunette with a low-cut shirt bent over to towel her spilled wine, looking up to see who was admiring.

It was amusing meeting everyone and I think I did well, considering that this party was our coming out. I can’t recall a single conversation, only my nervous anticipation and fragments of that night. The girls who actually arrived wearing no pants. Your breath smelled of green tea. The bit of spinach dip smeared on your lower lip as you smiled at me across the kitchen. Even though I wanted to be selfish and have you all to myself, this was your party. You mattered to everyone in the room. Our task was to say a holy hell yes to you. We did it with Jell-O shots, chips, cigarettes, girls missing pants, and drawn-out stories of rowdier days.

When no one was watching we made kissy faces across the room. We drifted close to each other, touching toe to toe, your hand on the small of my back. Just enough touch to reassure.

From:
[email protected]
To:
[email protected]
Sent:
Tuesday, November 8, 9:41 a.m.
Subject:
work

mmmmkay…

its almost 10 a.m.

and i haven’t done any work.

i have written a new post,

and it feels great

to have gotten it out.

there is therapy online.

but i wanted you to know

that i am very much thinking of you,

and i can’t wait to spend the night with you.

jumping into my edits now,

maybe i’ll find you there.

Tuesday, November 8

and i am a creature of habit

going to the sidelines,

we always see the game

with a different eye.

can it be that i’m only a week from surgery?

that this is the last week at work?

although part of me smiles at the thought

of not being here day in and day out

and having to drive across town twice a day,

another part feels slightly shaken.

my office,

my edit bay.

my little meditation room.

it is a place of security and comfort.

a personal place, a private hideaway

(yeah, until someone bursts the door open

by mistake thinking it’s the stairwell).

and the people.

friendships that have grown out of this place,

and acquaintances, that despite their sincerity

never seem to get beyond these walls.

they will all remain, running in place,

wearing the carpet just a little thinner beneath their feet.

who will be in my bay when i am gone?

it is a strange thing to disconnect yourself

from the routine and system you’re accustomed to.

and i am a creature of habit.

morning pb & j.

afternoon walk for coffee.

planning on working from home a few weeks after surgery,

and then coming back to the office in the new year.

i guess that’s the new routine.

the new system.

an interesting holiday season this will be.

posted by Anthony Glass at 8:39 a.m.