Fortunately I have a lot of Preparation H on hand. Laura always used Anusol. I think she was brought up on Anusol. I never had burning rectum until I became habituated to codeine (habituated in those periods when I could get it easily, usually as Solpadeine or Nurofen Plus, when I was living in or frequently passing through England…though I bought codeine in Paris and Sydney as well). The drugs dried out the rectum. A very different etiology from the pain I felt this afternoon as I finished the laundry.
This spate of burning came about because I made a fabulous pot of slow-cooker chili the other day and ate most of it over the next 24 hours. Finished it up this morning. Yesterday I stopped at the hot sauce shop at 7th Ave and 56th, and bought a little bottle of some righteous habañero sauce. They have like 50 or 60 hot sauce varieties there. And today I put it on my chili. Also, last night I bought some Ben & Jerry’s chocolate ice cream, my first ice cream in many months, ate a bowl or so, and I’m sure that helped give me the runs.
I bought the ice cream because for the past two months Moki has been lying abed, refusing to eat, and drinking mostly vodka and a very little water. Sometimes he asks me to make him tea, but he never drinks it. I encourage him to eat a little yoghurt. He won’t anymore. I asked if he’d like some ice cream, and he seemed interested. Didn’t touch it.
Last week I bought some coffee at the Starbucks downstairs (I was experimenting with their app and automatic payment; you punch it in, and your cardboard cup is waiting for you on on the rack when you get down there). I think that brought on a massive shit that he did, right there in the bed, which he was totally oblivious to. I still haven’t changed the mattress cover on that side, though I bought a new one at Target. I cannot move him out of bed.
Until early September, when as I recall he ate most of a hot dog I cooked, his lying abed was something of a joke. For months beforehand he would stagger out to buy a liter of vodka, and often come back home calling me from the apartment door. He had barely made it back. Handing me the sack with the bottle, he’d go: “Can you please make me a drink?” So I’d make us both a drink. In early September we talked about going to Gallagher’s for my birthday, and perhaps for our anniversary (the 6th and 25th). We never made it over to Gallagher’s. He started to fall out of bed at night, and pull down the metal shelving by his bathroom when he went to pee. Often he lay on the floor, unable to get back into bed. A few weeks ago I bought him a couple of those male plastic urinal bottles used in hospitals. Once or twice he’s shat into a deep yellow cleaning tray. It’s really disgusting. I need to send him to the VA hospital, but how do we get him down there? His birthday is in three days. Will he survive till then? What do I do with the corpse? I call 911?
Was thinking again about Petrie K*dz*s the other day. She died in January, after a year of galloping ALS, but left a Facebook page up under her Petrie Qu*gl*y account. She had several names, those two, and Petr* Z**linsk* and then an old deadname that comes up on people searches like Spokeo. Somewhat surprising, as it indicates she still used the old identity well into the 1990s. I remember when April Ashley first introduced us (this is through phone and email), P. had a password form on her website: you had to name the surgeon in Neenah. This was in 2000, so the visit to Schrang was in recent years. She had two brothers and many nieces, nephews, cousins. I noticed that when her father passed on 13 years ago, the obituary mentions them, but not her. Presumably her mother, or whoever, was being discreet about certain subjects. I found pictures of her in her old self at her public high school and her postgrad year at Andover where she was on the swim team, and have collected these. Also there’s a selfie that she took of herself with J. Boylan and Deedee at the 2016 GLAAD Gala, and emailed to me, or maybe it was Facebook personal messaging. I found it odd that she would want to go to such things, but she was a habitué of the wild side going back to her late teens. A big part of her life. One thing I’ve learned about such situations is that if you tend to sit in judgment, for Lord’s sake keep it to yourself.
Jenny looks like she just came back from a Botox party. Deedee looks good. Saw them both at the Time Warner Center back around February. Bundle-up weather. They were trying to figure out how to find the subway to get way the hell back uptown. Not Columbus Circle regulars.
14 May 2016, Petrie at right
I must go off to church. I started another novena to St. Jude yesterday. This time for Moki.
