IntrinsicTina

1 24 Glittering Birthday tiara, emblazoned with "Birthday Bitch", sent forth by my surviving sister, sits askew the lampshade. A half eaten bag of tortilla chips remains on the table, dyed navy and green, in honor of the Seattle Seahawks. Perfuming the air, a squat, clear, vase filled with short-cut, long-stemmed, white and red roses. Birthday cards litter my counter and tabletop, wishing me a  "Happy Birthday" in varying shades of funny. One tells me my sister "squeezed a unicorn to make me a rainbow" and there sits a rainbow-hued pile of poop. Another tells me a "Birthday Hug is Incoming" as a grey kitten flies through the air, from my husband. Still another, tells me that my mother "was going to get a flash mob together to do a birthday dance"; when you open the card, it belts out "Everybody Dance Now" and a little man vibrating (dancing). One good musical card deserves another and I have one left from last year from my...

Looks like I made it! Another year older and I don't think I've EVER been more grateful or relished the simple act of breathing more. I ate Thai food, dark chocolate mousse, and a killer good Birthday cake! I overdosed on Iliza Schlesinger stand-up. Check her on Netflix! War Paint, Freezing Hot, Confirmed Kills. Did you know that PINtrest is porn for white women?!  Me neither.How about when you applied to become a girl, and they asked what your favorite season is. "Fall. Motha-fuckah!!" She retorts. Because we love #Pumpkin everything! And we lose our shit when the leaves turn.  Babe, babe, babe, babe, babe, babe, babe, babe: Is it cold outside? I got serenaded at midnight, so sweetly. All day I had Birthday wishes, on Facebook and in person. Lynn sang and played harp for me and my family. I got serenaded a second time by dayshift. And Jordan, my sweet Jordan, who comes to crochet bedside for me, showed up to facilitate birthday shenanigans. She's awesome! She...

2 1 1 Tomorrow is my Birthday, I shall be the oldest I've ever been, and I suspect, I'll ever be.

Today is my sister's birthday. It may well be her last birthday. We should be throwing her a blow-out party...But we're not. We are unable to. She has cancer, multiple myeloma to be precise. And after three years of fighting, coping with chemo and radiation, embracing baldness, and keeping a positive attitude, she appears to be losing the war. Multiple myeloma is a tough row to hoe; it leaches calcium from the bones, weakening them. We found out about the cancer following a sudden and catastrophic spinal fracture out of the blue. One minute she's bundling groceries into our mother's house...CRACK...groceries drop to the porch. Fast forward to today, she sits in a room at the University of Washington Medical Center, recovering from water in the lungs, discovered during the administration of a new drug. She's been given 3 to 6 months to live. There it is. It's been declared. My baby sister, Renee' was wanted. My mother and stepfather wanted another baby ...

Today is my birthday--another milestone met--another year of birth anniversary. I didn't expect much of a celebration this year and that was fine by me. I tire easily and can't bear up under the social expectations of others. Smiles and efforts to speak, with or without my speech generating device, taxes my energy--quickly. After a lifetime of acquiring stuff, I need nothing anymore; you cannot take it with you and I live in hospice where I live my life in a room. I'm pretty happy to have a delicious morsel that I can manage to eat despite my mouth, tongue, and throat weaknesses. Tonight was delectable and tender Lamb Curry, individual-size banana splits, chocolate mousse, and cupcakes. My mother and sister, Renee, surprised me with a visit complete with gorgeous fall flowers, gourmet cupcakes, a gift of audiobooks (my favorite kind) and their time, despite health challenges. My husband showed up while they were here, helping to carry the conversation, thus I did not ov...

Started my day in a snit. Housekeeping cannot seem to get together on getting my clothing into my dresser drawers, instead packing shorts, tank tops, and pajamas into the closet on hangers. Those closets get so overstuffed the clothes end up in a pile on the floor where nobody bothers to pick them up. Then an unsuspecting aide arrives and asks me what I want to wear. I respond, "What do I have? " I get asked the same question as though I never answered and I blow a gasket. Woe is me, nobody greeted me with a smile and a"Happy Birthday! " Nobody surprised me by cleaning out the closets nor did they lay out my Birthday clothing. I refuse help until my closets are clean. I've been waiting for weeks for my regular aide to catch on to my routine. God knows she can't understand my requests between my ALS accent and her Ethiopian one. But, today I make my stand and have the Resident Care Manager making order so I can make some logical decisions. A waste of her va...