A Point to Ponder

I was washing dishes the other night and thinking. I do that when I wash dishes. I think. My mind goes places, ponders things, creates, ruminates...

Teflon and autism. Teflon and the variety of new allergies, diseases and other funky shit out there lately. Chemicals in general and autism.

That's where my mind went.

I wondered if the use of Teflon and other chemicals that our bodies have absorbed has contributed to (or caused) the recent exponential increase in autism and autism spectrum disorder diagnoses. I know a lot has to do with the redefining of ASD, diagnostic tools, etc. I get that. I also can't help but think that Teflon and other chemicals have a part in this.

I know that Teflon and other toxic chemicals are found in breastmilk, our blood and tissues, how can this NOT affect developing fetuses, bodies, brains?

There's a lot of debate regarding the dangers of Teflon, that it takes extreme heat to have it begin to release fumes, a temperature much higher than the typical stove, that studies were flawed, etc. It's almost always the industry insiders (chemists, workers, executives) that attempt to debunk the complaints. This alone should arouse suspicion. I can't find many independent researchers who are willing or able to say that Teflon and its associated chemicals cause no harm.

And it's found in our bodies. How the hell can chemicals that accumulate in our bodies be harmless?! Somewhere I read (can't find it now) that funeral directors use roughly half the amount of embalming fluid today than 100 years ago. Our bodies already have enough chemicals in them. That's scary shit.

So, do Teflon and its associated chemicals cause autism? I don't know. I would like to see a study done on these kids/people and see if their body's chemical load is different than ours in quantity and type.

The things I ponder when washing dishes.

Fantasy and Reality

I can't help it. I try, really try, but I can't help it.

I still fantasize about having or adopting a baby.

I know having a child is impossible. You need the plumbing for that and mine is gone. Don't get me wrong, I soooo love the fact that I can walk by the "feminine products" aisle and smirk, not to mention saving $5-$10 a month on various plugs and padding. That part I wouldn't trade for anything.

Despite the positives, I still long for a child. I still feel like a part of me, a part of my life, is incomplete. I've tried to put it away, thought I'd dealt with it, but something or someone keeps kicking me back into hoping.

Currently I'm dealing with a client whose 14 year old daughter is 34 weeks pregnant. Yup, 14 and absolutely, completely, unequivocally unprepared for it. She's not even a mature 14. Everyone, including mom (my client), grandma, various family members and her doctor tried to convince her to have an abortion or at the very least, choose adoption. She's got the immature pie-in-the-sky, unrealistic attitude about this. When she was told she would have to go back to school after 6 weeks, she was surprised, thinking that having a baby meant you could stay home and never go back to school. I go and interpret for mom during her prenatal visits, try to be as neutral as possible while also knowing she needs the little things explained (thought having an epidural meant the catheter went completely up your entire spine and out the skin on your shoulder). I can't help it, but I also desperately want her to look at me and say "please raise my baby". Pure fantasy. Can't help it.

Tuesday night there was a retirement dinner for our president and CEO. The VP's wife is good friends with one of the women from our department and when a VIP showed unexpectedly, she gladly ditched the stuffed shirts and joined us. Sitting around the table and chatting...she runs an adoption agency. Fuck. Can't escape. It took everything I had not to beg her for a baby or start asking desperate questions.

So again I brought up the idea with D about adopting. Even an older child. She recently had a scare with her blood pressure...she's supposed to have been on meds for a few years but tends to not take them. Finally scared the shit out of her enough to pay attention. Well, she now doesn't want to bring a child into our lives for fear of dying and even further messing up the kid. Oh come on! It's just one more excuse. She gets very creative with them.

I tried to explain to her in terms she'd understand...I said it would be like trying to be straight. If I had to, I could probably manage it but I would be miserable and know that something wasn't right. That I was missing something vital to my being. That no amount of therapy, faking it, doing whatever could fix the wrong/missing thing. It's simply too inherent, too close to the core to simply go away. She understands but still doesn't want to bring a child into a family where she might die soon (she won't, just her fears).

So where does that leave me besides fucked? A year ago I maybe could have gone behind her back and tried to get knocked up. Didn't, but the option was theoretically there. I can't adopt secretly, just not possible. I guess I have to either dream this 14 year old kid miraculously wants me to raise her baby (look what I brought home, honey) or D comes to her senses and realizes that having a child will be good for us.

Ultimately I expect that I'm going to have to accept the fact that I will never have a child. Ever. That I will always be missing that part of me that can never be filled or replaced. How the hell does anyone get past it? If anyone knows, please tell me.

Talking to dad

I've been having the strangest dreams lately. At least I think it's lately. It could have been from a while ago and I just keep thinking about it. Either way, it's strange. Really strange.

I've been dreaming that my father came back (he died in 1991 when I was 25) and he hadn't really been dead. He somehow faked it and had actually had a major head injury or accident, the kind that changed your personality, and he stayed away until he recovered enough then came back. He is so different, so not the father I know, that I challenge him constantly on his actual identity. Quiz him, even.

You would think I would be thrilled that he's back, even if not completely "himself". I would finally have my father back, be able to sit down and have real, adult conversations. Ask him questions that I have always wanted to know...about himself, his family, our family/heritage. Questions that only he knows and I was never able to find out. Even sit down over a few drinks and have the "do you remember when I did..." conversations.

I truly regret not being mature enough at 25 to have at least some of those conversations with him. I was too busy being angry, changing, growing, learning about myself. There was so much we didn't share. I have a few major regrets in my life. This is right up there.

Sad, yes. This definitely makes me sad to think about the "what ifs", but the emotion I mostly feel during all this dreaming/thinking is anger. The "why the fuck did you leave?!", "you destroyed my life" anger. Re-mourning? Never actually worked it through and it's popping up again? Facing life changes myself and sad he wasn't there/here?

either way, it's still strange.

A profound loss

From the NCLR Website:


OBITUARY Dorothy L. (Del) Martin (May 5, 1921 – August 27, 2008)Died on Wednesday, August 27, 2008 at UCSF Hospice, San Francisco, California. Survived by spouse Phyllis Lyon, daughter Kendra Mon, son-in-law Eugene Lane, granddaughter Lorraine Mon, grandson Kevin Mon, sister-in-law Patricia Lyon and a vast, loving and grateful lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender family.

An eloquent organizer for civil rights, civil liberties, and human dignity, Del Martin created and helped shape the modern lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender (LGBT) and feminist movements. She was a woman of extraordinary courage, persistence, intelligence, humor, and fundamental decency, who refused to be silenced by fear and never stopped fighting for equality. Her last public political act, on June 16, 2008, was to marry Phyllis Lyon, her partner of 55 years. They were the first couple to wed in San Francisco after the California Supreme Court recognized that marriage for same-sex couples is a fundamental right in a case brought by plaintiffs including Martin and Lyon.

Born in San Francisco on May 5, 1921, Dorothy L. Taliaferro, or Del as she would come to be known, was salutatorian of the first graduating class of George Washington High School and went on to study journalism at the University of California at Berkeley. At 19, after transferring to San Francisco State College (now San Francisco State University), she married James Martin and two years later gave birth to their daughter Kendra. The marriage ended in divorce.Del Martin met the love of her life, Phyllis Lyon, in Seattle in 1950 when they worked for the same publication company. They became lovers in 1952 and formalized their partnership on Valentine’s Day in 1953 when they moved in together in San Francisco. In 1955, they bought the small home that has been theirs ever since.

In what would prove to be an act that would change history, Martin, Lyon, and six other lesbians co-founded the Daughters of Bilitis (DOB) in San Francisco in 1955. DOB, which was named after an obscure book of lesbian love poetry, initially was organized to provide secret mutual support and social activities. It became the first public and political lesbian rights organization in the United States, laying a foundation for the women’s and lesbian and gay liberation movements that flowered in the early 1970s and continue today.Del Martin used her writing and speaking talents to challenge misconceptions about gender and sexuality. “We were fighting the church, the couch, and the courts,” she often remembered years later, naming the array of social and cultural forces early activists confronted when homosexuals were treated as immoral, mentally ill, and illegal. As the first President of DOB, she penned stirring calls to arms. “Nothing was ever accomplished by hiding in a dark corner. Why not discard the hermitage for the heritage that awaits any red-blooded American woman who dares to claim it?” She was the second editor (after Phyllis Lyon) of DOB’s groundbreaking monthly magazine, The Ladder, from 1960 to 1962 and ushered in a new decade of political engagement and media visibility for the nascent gay rights movement. The Ladder grew from a mimeographed newsletter in 1956 to an internationally recognized magazine with thousands of subscribers by 1970, and thousands more readers who copied its contents or circulated it among friends and coworkers. Martin’s many contributions to The Ladder ranged from short stories to editorials to missives: one of the most famous is “If That’s All There Is,” a searing condemnation of sexism in the gay rights movement written in 1970. Due to Martin’s influence, The Ladder provided one of the few media outlets confronting misogyny in the decade before the rebirth of women’s liberation.In 1964, Del Martin was part of a group that founded the Council on Religion and the Homosexual in order to lobby city lawmakers more effectively to reduce police harassment and modify the sex laws that criminalized homosexual behavior. In later years, Martin was also a founding member of the Lesbian Mother's Union, the San Francisco Women's Centers, and the Bay Area Women's Coalition, among other organizations.

As an early member of the National Organization for Women (NOW), Del Martin worked to counter homophobia within the women’s movement – fear of the so-called “lavender menace.” She and Lyon were the first lesbians to insist on joining with a “couples’ membership rate” and Martin was the first out lesbian on NOW’s Board of Directors. Their efforts helped to insure the inclusion of lesbian rights on NOW’s agenda in the early 1970’s.

Lesbian/Woman, the book they co-authored in 1972, is one of Martin and Lyon’s landmark accomplishments. The book described lesbian lives in a positive, knowledgeable way almost unknown at the time. In 1992, Publishers Weekly chose it as one of the 20 most influential women's books of the last 20 years.For many years, Del Martin was a leader in the campaign to persuade the American Psychiatric Association to declare that homosexuality was not a mental illness. This goal was finally achieved in 1973.

Del Martin’s publication of Battered Wives in 1976 was a major catalyst for the movement against domestic violence. Martin became a nationally known advocate for battered women, and was a co-founder of the Coalition for Justice for Battered Women (1975), La Casa de las Madres (a shelter for battered women) founded in 1976, and the California Coalition against Domestic Violence (1977). She lectured at colleges and universities around the country. Martin received her doctorate from the Institute for Advanced Study of Human Sexuality in 1987.Martin’s keen political instincts and interests extended her influence into the mainstream Democratic Party. She and Lyon were co-founders, in 1972, of the Alice B. Toklas Democratic Club, the first gay political club in the United States. Martin was appointed Chair of the San Francisco Commission on the Status of Women in 1976 and served on the committee until 1979. She worked as a member of many other councils and boards including the San Francisco Commission on the Status of Women. Throughout the years, many politicians recognized their stature as community leaders and sought advice and endorsement from Martin and Lyon.

It is difficult to separate Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon and write about only one of them. Their lives and their work have intertwined and their enduring dedication to social justice has been recognized many times. In 1979, local health care providers established a clinic to give lesbians in the San Francisco Bay area access to nonjudgmental, affordable health care and named it Lyon-Martin Health Services in their honor. In 1990, the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) of Northern California awarded the couple with its highest honor, the Earl Warren Civil Liberties Award. In 1995, Senator Dianne Feinstein named Martin, and Congresswoman Nancy Pelosi named Lyon, as delegates to the White House Conference on Aging, where they made headlines by using their moment at the podium to remind the 125,000 attendees that lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people grow old, too, and must be included explicitly in aging policies. The Society for the Scientific Study of Sexuality gave Martin and Lyon their Outstanding Public Service Award in 1996. They are among the most beloved figures in the LGBT community and have served as Grand Marshals at Pride marches across the nation and been honored by every major LGBT organization in the country.

Del Martin identified her own legacy in 1984 when she said that her most important contribution was "being able to help make changes in the way lesbians and gay men view themselves and how the larger society views lesbians and gay men." She had the courage to be true to herself when the world offered only condemnation for lesbians. Martin showed all of us how to have what she called “self-acceptance and a good sense of my own self-worth.” Del Martin never backed down from her insistence on full equality for all people and, even at 87 years old, she kept moving all of us closer to her ideal.

Gifts in lieu of flowers can be made to honor Del’s life and commitment and to defeat the California marriage ban through NCLR’s No On 8 PAC at _www.nclrights.org/NoOn8_ (http://www.nclrights.org/NoOn8).

A public memorial and tribute celebrating the life of Del Martin will be planned in the next several weeks.

Planning is real

Ok, so we're jumping into the marriage/civil union thing. Jumping being a relative term. We're doing it on/for our 20th anniversary in October.

We've been occasionally doing something or planning some aspect of it for over a year, but now it's actually going to happen THIS YEAR. We've done lots of stuff over the past couple of years, mostly talking but also concrete things, but it's all been kind of in the distance. Almost surreal. Now it's really tangible.

Someone today called me a bride. Groom I could see, but bride? Just because I'm female? Doesn't make sense to me. I don't see myself, never saw myself, as a bride. I'm sure as hell not going to wear a dress of any kind. Tried it. I look like I'm in drag. Bad drag at that.

We have a date to meet with the wedding location and caterer - one in the same - on June 7th and taste the selections we'd like, look around, and discuss costs and options. It's one of the only places that meets our criteria. We don't want a traditional wedding place. Ideally it would be a park of some kind, but being in October, there needs to be a building involved if the weather is cold or crappy. Not many parks have buildings. We also don't want a church or temple, since either one wouldn't respect one of our beliefs (I grew up Jewish and don't want a church, D is Episcopal and doesn't want a temple). We also can't afford to hire both a rabbi and a minister. The place also must be completely accessible since we have friends and family who are disabled and it also needs to be Deaf friendly, meaning open spaces, good lighting, and clear sight lines. Since we're not doing a church or temple, it makes sense to have ceremony and reception in one location. We're getting down to the wire in terms of what meets our criteria, what we can afford and what's available. This is pretty much it.

The food better be good.

Planning ahead department...

we went to California last summer and did a couple of winery tours. At that time, we decided that we'd join a wine club with the idea of already having and bringing lots of wine to our reception with the idea of ultimately saving money. I don't know how much we'll actually save, but we've got lots of wine and champagne. At least we can get ourselves and lots of our friends drunk for a long time.

We've looked at, but not yet decided on or bought, wedding rings. We already have someone in place as a DJ. Ok, so he's also D's co-worker, but he's hired. We also have someone to officiate, a friend of many years from the Clearwater Festival. I talked to her last year and will make sure we're still on when I see her at this year's festival.

We sent save the date cards - did those while I was recuperating from surgery - and have a box of do-it-yourself wedding invitations from Staples at the ready. The card stock paper of the save the date cards didn't go through the printer here and I had to bring it to Staples, I hope the invitations don't give me the same problem.

We also have, well, I want it to be the case, that one of the songs, ideally the recessional, be Woody Guthrie's Union Maid. When I think of a civil union, I can't help singing the chorus.

Aside from the DJ, we're also going to tell everyone to bring any instruments they may have. The DJ will do his thing for a while, then we'll have a good old fashioned jam/music circle session.

Yeah, we're old hippies. Get over it.

How fucking cool is this?

From the back. The tail is barred or banded and the back is mottled.

Not sure if it's female or juvenileFrom the side - light brown speckled chest.

Size reference - the board is just under 6" wide, maybe 5 3/8"?

Watching me. Eyes are a golden brown

How fucking cool is this? This morning, around 10:30, this bird landed on our deck and simply perched there for about a half hour. After doing some research and asking questions, it seems our little friend is a sharp-shinned hawk. When D started to get ready for work, which meant getting coffee and conversing, it finally decided we were disturbing it and it left. These pictures were taken out our kitchen window and through the sun room door. We think it was not only sunning itself, but attracted by the scent of the old bird cages. So glad we haven't recycled them yet :)

One month

It's now a month since surgery and I'm doing much better.

I was just posting the catch up stuff and older messages from the website and it seems so long ago I was counting my recovery by the day. Now it's by the week. Gotta love time.

I'm feeling SOOOO much better than before I had the hyst. I can't believe those damn things were sucking the life out of me like they were. It's amazing what your body can do when it's got oxygen! I still have twinges and some achiness, but my energy level, even post op, is twice what it was before surgery.

As well as recovery is going, however, it feels slow for me and I'm not good at doing bored. There's only so much online/reading/TV one can deal with before cabin fever sets in. I've been out and about for the past couple of days, extending the time as much as possible, but I'm still bored silly. I need mental and social stimulation, dammit!!!

I haven't spoken to/seen a Deaf person since the night of surgery and I feel like I'm gonna be rusty when I get back to work on the 21st. With the short term disability legalities, I'm not allowed to even set foot on FSW property so I can't go schmooze with the Deaf seniors on Fridays or visit the office/my co-workers.

That said...hmmm...thinking getting a couple of folks together for lunch off property might be possible. I'd have to do it quietly, but it might be possible...the gears are turning...

More postings from said website...

Posted on 2/20:

Well I'm day 8 out from surgery and all is pretty good. I had my staples removed today and replaced with steri-strips. I got up from the table, walked out of the exam room, and promptly had a vagal response!

I turned as white as their lab coats, got sweaty, cold and clammy, and nearly passed out. The doc (not mine, he's on vacation) and a nurse practically carried me back into the room where I lay down and was fed juice and crackers until my BP came back to the realm of living and I felt better.

About 15 minutes later, I slowly walked out of the office and my partner drove home. Got home and went to bed, napping for about 2-3 hours. I've spent the rest of the day between the bedroom and living room, mostly with a TV remote in my hand.

Since I was at a rehab, I had the visiting nurse come by today who declared I'm alive and only need her one more time per protocol. I'll also have a visit from physical therapy to prove I can walk again. Oh, and it seems I've lost about 15 lbs! I'm sure some is the soccer ball of ute and tumor I just lost, but I can't discount a liquid diet for 3 days and healthy food in rehab. Regardless, it's 15 lbs, dammit!

Had my big excursion tonight to Linens and Things for curtains then to the local "farm" store with a buffet for dinner - chicken orzo soup and wild rice salad. Woohoo!

Pain-wise I'm doing ok. I live in constant pain from my disability, so I have a really high tolerance to begin with. I'm only taking 1 or 2 Dilaudid a day and doing fine with that.

Pictures? Hell yeah! I have pictures of my ute and more of the weird, huge tumors I had. Definitely proves the hyst was the best decision to make. If anyone wants to see the gory pics, let me know and I'll send them.

No, not gonna post them to Blogger...not everyone can handle it. If you want to see them or the "don't fuck up" pics, let me know and I'll send them

The first few days

Now that it's a month out, I figured I owed folks an update. To save time and brain space, the first couple of posts are simply copied and pasted from another website that's specific for hysterectomies. It's littered with Google ads and constantly tries to sell you products and membership, but if you can avoid that, it's pretty good.

The site itself is wonderful for peer support and basic information, but I found the owners and moderators pretty homophobic. Most of the women on the site aren't so bad, at least not outwardly, but since the owners seem to be jerks, I refuse to buy any of their products or support them in any way financially.

The site is also VERY middle-America and oh so vanilla and G rated. Knowing me, it can get really tough to try and find the words that the auto-censor will accept! Here I changed my words back to MY words, fuck censoring.

Posted on 2/11:

Hey everyone! I'm not yet home but I wanted to post my surgery story and let everyone know I'm already feeling so much better! And I'm sorry this is so long.

We got to the hospital at 8:15 in the morning and were in the pre-op interview area by 8:30 or so. Since my partner was really stressing, I had asked a friend to come and be there to support her. My feeling was that as long as she's supported, I can focus on myself and will be ok. Our friend was with us until I was taken into the OR - through the interview, OR holding and everything. Great friend.

When the anesthesiologist came into the OR holding area to ask questions, my partner knew her and finally was a lot calmer and felt more secure knowing I was in good hands. Just before leaving holding, they injected a bit of Versed and I started to get loopy. The last thing I remember was an arm in blue scrubs reaching over me to attach sensors, equipment and whatnot. I barely remember PACU (post-op), but know I asked for pain meds more than once. I remember going up to my room, ouching at every bump in the hallway and elevator, dreading the transfer to the bed, and holding onto my belly and dressing, wondering why it seemed so large.

I got up to my room around 2:30 or 3pm and by 4:00 had my first visitor. A good friend was in town for a meeting and just happened the timing was perfect. I was still quite stoned, but it was fine. The rest of the afternoon I was in and out of sleep, a combination of pain, effects of anesthesia, general hospital noise and the incessant taking of vitals made for a bad night. My roommate had the same surgery and poor woman, was puking for 3 days from the anesthesia. I had a PCA set up and kept hitting the button as much as possible, mostly for pain, but also hoping I would be stoned enough to just sleep and not be bothered by routine hospital stuff and the nurses in and out for my roomie. For the most part, it worked. Dilaudid was my best friend.

Later that evening, my doc and the doc who assisted him came in and I found out why the bandage was so large. Once he saw the monsters, the planned bikini cut was not an option and he had to make a vertical cut. I got filleted from just below my belly button to my pubes. I think there's something like 18 staples. My uterus was the size of a 19 week pregnancy and the majority of the external (pedunculated) tumor mass was shaped like a dumbell, spanning the height/length of the left side of my uterus, following along the tubes at the top and down the other side. The left side was about the size and shape of a football, the right, a smaller nerf football. All together, probably about the size of a soccer ball. He also had to do some digging since it had spread to alongside my va&ina (trying to avoid the snerts). Hence the vertical incision.

I had also decided to have some fun with my doc and the OR staff and put a temporary tattoo saying "don't fuck up" across my belly. They totally loved it, took pictures, he even posed with thumbs up. He said he was going to bring it to the next conference that talked about marking the surgical site. It also became the talk of the floor when I went up. Unfortunately they had to tape over it so when the dressing was removed Saturday morning, most of it was gone. Made the point though and I had my fun. Speaking of removing the dressing...I tend to be pretty hairy and hadn't shaved or been shaved down there. The tape, however, was massive and after the doc tried to be gentle, I finally told her to just cut the hair. It was bad. Hopefully the growing back in won't be too brutal. That's enough for now..will post more later and explain why I'm not yet home.

Posted on 2/13:

I'm 6 days out from surgery, 7 if you count surgery day, and FINALLY going home tomorrow. Because of my disability, nobody was sure how having my abdominal muscles filleted would impact my ability to walk, move and generally get around so I went to a short term rehab for a few days. I've been going fucking nuts here! Since it's primarily a nursing home, I'm one of the youngest people here and feel like I'm being treated like a child. They definitely infantalize you here and assume you can't do something rather than encourage independence. I can't even take a fucking shower more than once a week here!

It's been good in that it has forced me to take it slowly post-op, rather than my usual 100MPH, and physical and occupational therapy are getting me equipment I should have had for years. I also haven't had to worry about cooking, shopping or anything along those lines, so it's also been good in that respect. The prisoner feeling, however, doesn't make up for it. I'm SOOOO looking forward to getting home tomorrow, seeing my doggies and getting back to my normal life - not to mention a nice, long hot shower - I'm almost ready to cry. Can't wait for independence!!!