Not So Fast, Says Grief

Well, I was wrong. My grief isn't over, it's just entered a new phase. Now instead of crying every day over the recent death of a friend, I am able to think of other things most of the time and then suddenly I remember and cry every second day. That's definitely a step in the right direction.

Death is certainly a permanent fixture in all of our lives and yet we hate it, try our hardest to not think about it, and consider anyone who mentions its inevitability and actually wants to talk about it to be a real downer. If that were not the case, the death of a loved one might not hit us like a bolt out of the blue. (How can we still be surprised every time?)

Maybe if we all gave more attention to the actual facts of life and death than we do to all the woke nonsense around pronouns and bathrooms and gender identity, the human race would be evolving instead of devolving into a deep sinkhole of grossly embarrassing stupidity.

Victoria's New Secret

The clothing company Victoria's Secret has always showcased beautiful models with incredibly toned bodies looking sexy in underwear and lingerie. The store's mannequins reflected those ideals. But alas, over the years as women have grown in girth and show no signs of stopping, the company's shares plummeted. Now it is seeking to redefine their brand in order to win back customers. 

This is being done by showing their wares on "different body types," i.e. fatties. Surveys show that customers agree: more "inclusive" marketing is a step in the right direction. Apparently Victoria's new secret is that she eats candy bars when nobody is looking.

Men Are Not Women

Call me old-fashioned -- I've been called a lot worse -- but if someone is going to stick a tiny camera into my vagina and move it around for twenty-five minutes to have a look-see, I'd prefer it be a female. Am I crazy?

I recently had an appointment for a vaginal ultrasound, which is a standard procedure used to eliminate the possibility of certain cancers and to determine the size of uterine fibroid tumors which, while fairly common, could develop into something more troubling if left unchecked. I last had this procedure done four years ago, but in preparation for an upcoming visit with my gynecologist a current one was requested.

As I sat in the waiting room playing Words With Friends on my cell phone, a bearded and tattooed young man of about 30 called my name, then approached and asked me to follow him. I assumed he was my escort to the technician who would be doing the procedure, but as we entered the examining room and he closed the door behind me, it seemed he was that technician. 

"Wait, are you doing my vaginal ultrasound?" I asked.

"Yes," he responded, "is there a problem?"

"Oh yeah. A big one. I'd like a female technician, please."

"Did you specify that when you made the appointment? What's the difference anyway?" the dumb jerk asked. "I mean, people are people."

"That may be true for your generation, but I am 76 and I can remember when there were men and women, and right now I'd like a woman to do my exam." Just to make sure he understood, things being the way they are these days, I added, "I mean someone assigned at birth as female." He sighed deeply, shook his head, shrugged his shoulders and, muttering "I don't see what's the big deal," went off in search of someone fitting my description. 

The young woman who arrived a few minutes later to do the procedure was very understanding and completely agreed with me. "I told them at the last staff meeting that having guys do it was a bad idea," she said, "but nobody listens to me."

Stop Nazi Fever!

I read this morning that scientists at Pfizer are working on a vaccine for Lyme disease. That's good, but really I think they should stop all work on everything else and put their best efforts towards a vaccine for Trump Derangement Syndrome (TDS), which is fast overtaking COVID as our #1 health problem that threatens to bring about the downfall of our democracy.

The earliest known cases of TDS appeared in June of 2015 when Donald Trump announced his intention to run for the presidency. At first it was contained within the world of journalism, with news anchors at CNN and MSNBC showing signs of it. Then it quickly spread to the editors at  the New York Times and all other left-leaning media outlets, eventually taking hold in Washington D.C., with democratic members of Congress suffering the worst of the symptoms. Some even went crazy, like Senator Mazie Hirono of Hawaii who was already on shaky ground mentally, and that old war horse from California Maxine Waters, who at her advanced age simply couldn't fight it off. She got it so bad she gave speeches around the country telling people to chase down any Republican they saw in public and "get in their face."

By the time Donald Trump took office in January 2016, TDS was rampant. Just fifteen minutes after the new president was sworn in, Democratic Congressman Adam Schiff of California swore he would not rest until Trump was impeached. It soon became obvious that California was a hotbed of the disease, with Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi from San Francisco suffering terribly. (By 2020 she was so ill that she actually tore up the president's third Sate of the Union speech on national TV, while he was delivering it!)

Since then, every single Democrat in America has been infected. Not one has been spared. The worst symptoms include criticizing Trump with the phrase "orange man bad," which shows their loss of verbal acuity, the insistence that every last thing that is wrong in America is the fault of Trump, and that Joe Biden is a good president and not a frail, demented mess. In my little neighborhood in Maine, every single Democrat, which is basically the whole neighborhood except for one man who is still in the closet, has stopped speaking to me after I put a lawn sign in favor of Maine's Republican Senator Susan Collins in my yard. 

The disease has overtaken the White House, and many other branches of government and government  agencies have exhibited the frightening symptoms of TDS. The latest was just a day ago, when the FBI raided the Florida home of our former president -- yes, he was our former president -- hoping to find some piece of evidence damaging enough to put him in jail, or at least make sure he cannot run in the next election. (A huge part of TDS is the overriding fear that Trump will run and win.) 

This unprecedented act will surely go down in history as the starting point of the ultimate downfall of "America, the land of the free." TDS is just a hop, skip and a jump away from Nazi Fever. So come on Pfizer, get to work on stopping this dangerous disease before all us Jews are forced to wear yellow arm bands in public. 

Everyone Dies; Get Used to It

Sometimes reading the news can be a real eye-opener. Whether in print or online, it's full of stories about how people died. Car crashes are quite popular; just this morning I read of a family of five, all killed in one crash. Another story was about four people riding a golf cart in the city of Galveston, which allows that, who were killed when an SUV crashed into them at a busy intersection. And out in Wyoming, where my friend Debra breathed her last under an 18-wheeler that crashed straight into the driver's side of her car (she was driving, her husband severely injured in the passenger seat), there are dozens of equally horrific stories online of other fatal accidents occurring in those big, wide open spaces and on the very same road she was traveling.

Then there are the freak accidents, like what happened to the vacationing Wisconsin couple  struck by lightning across the street from the White House a few nights ago. They were in the nation's capital celebrating their 50th anniversary when a sudden, vicious storm whipped up and ended their lives. Poof -- just like that they were gone. They were 75 and 76, but another victim of the same storm standing nearby to them was just 29. Death makes no allowances for age.

And who could forget disease? Cancer, strokes, diabetes, heart attacks and other, more esoteric illnesses steal countless loved ones  every day. And mass shootings, now almost commonplace,  eradicate multiple lives at once, for no reason at all. Of course, drownings, gang wars and just plain murder occur constantly, upping the human death count daily.

So what's the big deal? Since we all know it's coming, how come when it does it's so painful for the survivors? Is there no way to accept the death of a loved one with grace and dignity instead of wailing to the high heavens, "Why God, why?" and hating life all of a sudden? Bereavement is such a downer, and in some cases it never ends. 

According to experts, this is what grief can do to you: "Grief can cause a variety of effects on the body including increased inflammation, joint pain, headaches, and digestive problems. It can also lower your immunity, making you more susceptible to illness. Grief also can contribute to cardiovascular problems, difficulty sleeping, and unhealthy coping mechanisms."

I have been suffering a lot of those effects for the last ten days and to be frank, it's getting old. At the same time, I am being given the advice by well-meaning bystanders that I must "find the joy in every day" while I'm alive. But, as you may have noticed, joy is not one of the side effects of grief, which makes it hard. And if you love a lot of people who will eventually die or have already,  that "finding joy" thing gets even harder.

If anyone knows how to circumvent grief, or even just shorten its duration, please contact me. 

Death of a Non-Celebrity

Every day for the last week I have checked the newspapers for the obituary of my friend Debra who died on July 22, to no avail. I understand that her family is bereft beyond words and can barely get through each day, yet since I live in Maine and they live in Salt Lake City I can be of no help. Still, I long to see a published record of the interesting life of this very rare individual. Her passing should have been all over the news but she was not a celebrity, except to about 1,000 ordinary people who knew and cherished her.

Even though Debra told several family members that she had written her own obituary, perhaps I should write one for her and post it here, since I wrote about her frequently while she was alive. To that end, I have perused many obituary columns to see if there is some sort of formula people use. The one constant seems to be in the opening paragraph, where it is said that the deceased is "now at peace" or "finally at peace, in the arms of God," or "resting with God," or some such rot as that. How do we know everyone who dies is at peace? And how terrible were their lives that they are finally at peace? Was everyone who ever lived completely miserable and warring with the world?

My friend Debra lived her life at peace, with a few minor exceptions of course, like when one of her pets got sick or lost, or one of her kids had a problem. But on the whole she was upbeat, able to see the good in every person and the humor in every situation. And if there is a heaven, Deb is certainly not resting in the arms of anyone, least of all God. Instead, she is likely organizing some kind of huge event, cooking a fabulous meal for thousands and setting a beautiful table complete with fancy dinner napkins, fresh-cut flowers, sparkling china and glowing candles stretching as far as the eye can see. And if there are no dishwashers up there, Deb's doing all the dishes too.

It's been a week since I got this terrible news and I am finally able to think of her without crying. I may just get busy writing that obituary.

No Cure for Grief

I guess I don't have that kind.

I have hands-on proof that ingesting any sort of food or drink does not alleviate the symptoms of grief when you are mourning the loss of a loved one, but certain drugs do. In the last four days since I learned of the death of my closest friend I have swallowed the following alcoholic beverages, to no avail: Whiskey Sour, White Russian, red wine and beer. I have tried them one at a time, so maybe if I made a concoction of all of them in a big glass I might get some better results.

Smoking a bit of marijuana and taking a small amount of lorazepam seems to help, although there's just so much of that you can do before you conk out. Plus you feel weird.

Cookies do nothing but make your stomach bloated, only adding to your misery. Ditto pasta, fried shrimp, crackers and cheese, popcorn, ice cream  and basically all foods.

I guess, like Teri Garr cried to Dustin Hoffman in Tootsie, "I just have to feel this way until I don't feel this way anymore!"

Nancy in Taiwanland

The secrets and lies of our government are so tangled and deep, we silly little mortals know nothing about what's really going on. If you think the non-stop bloviation coming from the anchors at CNN and FOX News tells us anything important, you are sadly deluded. Take, for example, the current Taiwan debacle, "Nancy in Wonderland." Despite intense warnings against it, Miss Nancy's plane touched down in Taiwan this afternoon, and since then I have run for cover anytime a plane flies overhead. 

Who is she to risk getting us into a war with China? Is she really our best representative abroad? And why is she going? Is she looking for something? And why her -- are they getting us ready for President Pelosi? Is that why the Speaker of the House went to Taiwan, expressly against the wishes of President Biden and the Chinese government?

It is with mixed emotions that I say I hope Pelosi comes back alive. 

Things I Tell Myself

Be on the lookout for one of these.

I am trying to get a grip on myself over how devastated I am by the loss of my friend who died in a car accident recently. It was shocking and sudden with no time for goodbye. And while I know that death comes to us all, still her death is so wrong since she was such a good person and loved by so many, important to so many, even more than the average person. She wasn't an average person by any means. Do you know anyone who could drive hundreds of miles, alone, with dozens of doves in cages in the back seat? I don't. (Deb was a birder and trapped hawks for scientific research; the doves were her lure birds that she cared for like they were her children.)

I cry out to God, "Why her?" And He answers back, "Why not her?" After all, last year an estimated 42,915 people died in traffic accidents in the Unites States. So really, it's pretty common. Here are some celebrities whose lives ended that way: Grace Kelly, Jerry Rubin, Wallace Stegner, Jayne Mansfield, James Dean, Princess Diana, Jackson Pollock, Albert Camus, Isadora Duncan, Duane Allman, Ernie Kovacs and Joe Biden's first wife and son.

So I tell myself that my friend Deb is in good company. And that she didn't suffer and likely did not know what hit her, literally. (It was an 18-wheeler, see photo.) I'm just being selfish because I want her and need her. I've got to grow up. Think about the parents in Uvalde, etc. etc. 

Death sucks no matter when or where or how it happens. Accept it. (I tell myself.)

How Jews Mourn

Upon the death of a mutual friend, I spoke with a non-Jew who told me, a Jew, that, "according to Jewish law, you sit shiva for a week and then it's business as usual." In case you care, this is poppycock. When it comes to mourning, nobody does it like the Jews, and believe me, it takes a lot longer than a week:

"The Mourning period is successively less intense; many Jews (and non-Jews) view the Jewish process of mourning as psychologically wise. Its traditional elements are: shiva, seven days during which mourners are visited at home by family and community, and participate in prayer services held at home; sheloshim, the first 30 days of mourning, during which mourners return to their normal routine but refrain from many customary pleasurable activities; and, for those who have lost a parent, 11 months of aveilut (mourning), during which prayers for the dead are recited daily."

A Sudden Death

Debra, her husband Art, me and my husband Mitch, years ago.

I found out yesterday that my best friend, who I have written about numerous times in this very blog, was killed in a car accident eight days earlier. She lives far away and her family was busy falling apart in grief and who could blame them, so we did not get a call until yesterday. So for eight days I thought she was alive and having a fun vacation in a place with no cell service which is why she never texted me back, but really the reason is she was dead.

Debra is not a person who should be dead. Dozens of people counted on her for so many important things that now will never get done by anyone; she was special. People write things on her Facebook page as if she can read it. If only that were true. So many people are sad: her kids, grandkids and husband, nieces and nephews and in-laws, and many friends. She cut a wide swath.

In my life there will be no getting over it, no filling in the gaping hole she left. I'm too old to meet a new best friend and know them for 24 years and grow old together -- I'm already old. So far all I have been able to do is nothing -- and wonder why she died and Vladimir Putin is alive. God works in mysterious ways.