Typically, each year, I spend some time reading her diary, and I usually light a candle that has the Star of David on it, and then I watch the Anne Frank film.
Today I did not get to do those things. But I did manage to read a few passages of her diary a few minutes ago, just before going to bed. I've been too busy today getting the house cleaned for the visit of Pete's sister and brother-in-law who are coming from Connecticut to visit Florence. They are only going to be here tomorrow, and are flying back on Sunday morning.
I'm glad that Florence went to the Sarah Care adult daycare place today; she gave me a hard time about going there on Tuesday and acted like a spoiled rotten teenager who didn't want to go to school. I very nearly bought her a one-way bus ticket back to Rochester. She's a great person most of the time, but when her bipolar and/or her dementia gain control of her, she's a royal pain in the butt, and I don't know how the hell to handle her. I've never had a kid, so I have clue how to take care of an 88 year old woman either.
My doctor today told me that I'm in worse shape than Florence is. I thought that was lovely.
So now my doctor is worried about my LIVER. She's taken another blood sample to test the enzymes, which apparently were too high last time. I may need another medication for that. I told her that I JUST TURNED FORTY ONE YEARS OLD DAMMIT, and I'm too YOUNG to deal with all this stupid medical stuff, and I'm stressed to the max, so could she possibly prescribe me a very heavy duty ANTI DEPRESSANT soon, because I feel like I'm sliding into an abyss.
She said, "Sure." So now I get to take that pill in addition to all the others, oh, and I guess I'm supposed to be taking a baby aspirin every day too, which is news to me....oh, and on Monday I get to waste an entire morning from 8:00-12:00 to take a class about diabetes. Fun fun.
I told Pete he should start looking for another girlfriend, I'm apparently damaged goods and diseased all over the goddamned place, so it's not fair to him to sit by me while I waste away in a hospital with all this shit going on. He said no, he didn't WANT to look for another girlfriend and I should stop being so melodramatic about it, and we'll deal with whatever comes.
The doctor said my biggest concern right now is the lump in my right breast. I used to joke that if I needed to lose 40 pounds, I'd just cut off both boobs, so what the hell, now's my chance to lose 40 pounds I guess. She gave me the phone number of a world famous breast cancer surgeon, "just in case" I needed it. I feel a sense of doom and foreboding about this lump. My biopsy is Tuesday but it's like women's intuition or something, I know it's breast cancer. Now keep in mind, I've been raised by lots of "Negaholics" in my life, so of course I expect the worst, because if the worst does NOT happen, then I'm happy as a lark. If it DOES happen, then I prepared myself for it and I can deal with it better than if I didn't prepare at all. So, that's usually how I deal with stuff like this. I know it's probably not what most normal people do.
So Anne Frank would be 80 today, and to celebrate that, I sent my very first proof of my book to Miep Gies, to show her that it's still in the works....but I also explained to her that I would put the publishing of the book on hold for awhile, in lieu of the awful shooting that took place this week at the Holocaust Museum. I still cannot believe what happened. I'm still in shock. I want so badly to go there, and grab a group of people, give them scrub brushes and soap in buckets, and have a symbolic cleansing of the evil and hatred that dared set foot in the place.
I have attended anti-Nazi rallies, I have marched in anti-(Gulf)-war marches in college, and I've seen other groups scrub the stairs of public buildings where KKK rallies were held hours before, as a protest. I am an activist, and a pacifist. I want to scrub the doors where those bullet holes still remain...I want to create a huge poster with Stephen Tyrone Johns' face on it, and let people sign their condolences to it, as a gift to his family. I want to see a pile of flowers outside the Museum, and people holding candlelight vigils to honor and memorialize him.
So, I would like to take a moment to fantasize that, if Anne Frank had indeed lived to be 80 today, perhaps she would walk with me holding a scrub brush, kneel down and participate in the cleansing of this hateful act. I would like to think she would guide my hands in doing so.
God Bless you Annie, my Annie. You inspire me and I feel you within me. God Bless Stephen Johns too. I am going to add a dedication to my book, and when it does come time to publish it, I want to donate the proceeds to his 11 year old son, so that he can someday go to college. That is what Anne would want me to do, and that is what my heart tells me is right.
Love, Becky
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