Total Perspective Vortex
What really happened to Trillian? Theories abound, but you can see what she's really been up to on this blog. If you're looking for white mice, depressed robots, or the occasional Pan Galactic Gargleblaster you might be better served here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/guide/.
Don't just sit there angry and ranting, do something constructive.
In the words of Patti Smith (all hail Sister Patti): People have the power.
Contact your elected officials.
Don't be passive = get involved = make a difference.
Words are cool.
The English language is complex, stupid, illogical, confounding, brilliant, beautiful, and fascinating.
Every now and then a word presents itself that typifies all the maddeningly gorgeousness of language. They're the words that give you pause for thought. "Who came up with that word? That's an interesting string of letters." Their beauty doesn't lie in their definition (although that can play a role). It's also not in their onomatopoeia, though that, too, can play a role. Their beauty is in the way their letters combine - the visual poetry of words - and/or the way they sound when spoken. We talk a lot about music we like to hear and art we like to see, so let's all hail the unsung heroes of communication, poetry and life: Words.
Here are some I like. (Not because of their definition.)
Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Smart Girls
(A Trillian de-composition, to the tune of Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys)
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Smart girls ain’t easy to love and they’re above playing games
And they’d rather read a book than subvert themselves
Kafka, Beethoven and foreign movies
And each night alone with her cat
And they won’t understand her and she won’t die young
She’ll probably just wither away
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
A smart girl loves creaky old libraries and lively debates
Exploring the world and art and witty reparteé
Men who don’t know her won’t like her and those who do
Sometimes won’t know how to take her
She’s rarely wrong but in desperation will play dumb
Because men hate that she’s always right
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Life(?) of Trillian
Single/Zero
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Emergency pet hospital exams and boarding: $750
Exploratory surgery on cat: $2,600
Lab tests on biopsies taken during exploratory surgery on cat: $800
Prescriptions for cat with cancer: $150
Special diet cat food: $3/can
Making best friend's last days comfortable: Priceless.
For everything else there's a maxed out MasterCard.
Yep, my worst fears were confirmed: Furry Creature has cancer. The prognosis is: Terminal. But fortunately it's not leukemia. So there are medications which will make him comfortable in his last days. Which is all I want for him - no pain and a comfortable progression to the end of his life. He's been acting pretty good the past few days, which is a sliver of hope that even though it's spreading to several organs we caught it relatively early. Early enough to keep his organs from malfunctioning and causing him pain and discomfort and affiliated health problems.
We might have a few months or, optimistically, a year. Depends on how well his body responds to the medication.
His doctor and I are in agreement that we will not make him endure difficult treatments and exams which won't offer any real hope or extend his life any longer than the medication will. And we agree that his comfort is the number one priority. When that is compromised we'll let him go peacefully.
After what I've been through with my mother, the accident, the muggings and HWNMNBS I was thinking I didn't have the capacity to feel any more hurt. I thought I'd hurt as much as a person can hurt. I thought I didn't have any more tears left. Well. Once again, I was wrong. And once again, the one person (in this case animal) who could make me "feel" better is the one person who's the source of the pain.
Except here's where animals are different from people: Furry Creature has been snuggling and cuddling and purring and comforting me nonstop since he came home from hospital. Obviously I have no way of knowing if he knows he's ill, or that he has a bad thing happening inside him. I know he knows he doesn't feel right. But rather than go off to a quiet corner to rest he's been giving me his trademark "s'okay Trill, we've got each other, why don't you pet me and I'll purr and it'll be okay" treatment.
There are all the lessons people talk about learning from their pets, but for me there's nothing really new here. Furry Creature's been showing me the benefits of affection, camaraderie, a good laugh, and the joys of playing since the day he chose me at the shelter.
Once again my hopes, reasonable hopes, are cut short. He's not that old. It was realistic for me to think we had a few more good, healthy years together. But. Cancer doesn't care about reasonable hopes. And cancer doesn't care that this is a very cool cat and my lone daily source of affection, joy and companionship. Cancer doesn't care that he's too young and has a lot of games he wants to invent and play. Cancer doesn't care that I'm lonely and I need him. Cancer has a quota to meet and will take any living thing it can find to make that quota.
I know, it's just a cat. People are suffering. People are dying. He's a lucky cat who's had a good home and a good life and we all die of something sooner or later and his last days will be relatively pain free. It could all be so much worse. It is so much worse for a lot of people. Right now, this second, people are enduring horrible pain and suffering. People are dying horrible deaths. I know. I know it's just a cat and in the grand scheme of life, the universe and everything my cat and I are insignificant tiny little specks. I know this. I'm a big picture kind of person. I get it. I understand. I accept it. But. That cat makes life in my tiny compartment on my speck fun and cuddly. And as long as I'm stuck in this speck of a life it's nice to have a fun, cuddly companion who always makes me laugh. It makes the speck feel a lot more important or at least a lot more comfortable, a lot less lonely.
A few months ago one of my Bill Murray dreams turned into a frantic nightmare. My compartment was foggy and I couldn't find Furry Creature. I could hear his meow growing fainter in the distance of the fog and my heart was racing as I frantically called for him and tried to chase after him and find him. I'm not saying I'm psychic. I'm saying one of my remaining fears is the health and safety of Furry Creature. And now I have to face that fear. I'm losing him.
