A Friendly Musical Visit Every Day

Yesterday I promised to outline how my perfect guest would behave when visiting my partner (who has cancer) and me (his caregiver, living with chronic illness). And I know these wonderful people do exist, because a few of my mom's sisters are like this (my mother also has cancer) and many of my mom's friends are, too.  If only my partner's friends showed us this level of kindness, care, and respect. Ah, but a queer can dream... The perfect guest would reach out to ask if we were up for a visit, and if that's something we would enjoy at this point. My partner would enjoy a visit (and I might tolerate one), so yes, okay, thanks--that would be nice.  The perfect guest would, of course, let us set the date and show up on time. But before showing up, a perfect guest would tell us, "I will bring everything we're going to eat, so don't even think of lifting a finger." They would ask about dietary restrictions. In my partner's case, he could only eat so

I've been meaning to tell you this story for months, but every time I think about it, I get so angry I can't type and also I'm immediately exhausted. While my partner was undergoing cancer treament this summer, two of his friends called up and asked if they could visit. He was really excited about this, because he likes people. That's something I can't relate to, myself, but hey--different strokes. These people are a couple. My partner has known the wife since they were five years old. He went to university with the husband. So he's known these folks for ages. Now, one thing I didn't realize about cancer caregiving until I was a cancer caregiver is that it is exhausting. Even as a professional writer, I don't have the words to convey to you how exhausting it is. During my partner's treatment and recovery, our lives were all cancer all the time. Everything that is cancer takes the wheel. Everything else (like cooking, cleaning) still needs to be d

The other day, my partner and I were watching an episode of Escape to the Country. One of the "escapees" was nicknamed Del Girl because she was always coming up with different business plans. Since I'm well-versed in Britcoms and my partner is not, I paused the episode to explain the woman's nickname as a reference to this show. Oddly enough, we'd been talking about Only Fools and Horses only two weeks ago, when he looked up the cast of the new Frasier episodes and asked me if I'd ever heard of this Nicholas Lyndhurst person. Why, yes. Yes, I have. Also put me on the path to wondering whether I would enjoy re-watching A Touch of Frost, or if I might find it dated now. I haven't seen that show since the 90s. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) or check them out from your local library.  Supporting my  AudioErotica  endeavour on  Pa

Lately, my partner and I have been spending most of our time at his place, only returning to the city when one of us has a medical appointment. The town he lives in is so small that I always have a mental list of errands I need to run when we get to the city. Then we get here, I'm downed by chronic illness, and I accomplish nothing. In addition to my physical condition, I also have anxiety, which makes it hard to leave the house most of the time. You know this about me, by now. So I end up congratulating myself to a ridiculous degree for doing the smallest things, because everything is such a big accomplishment for me, these days. I'd promised my mother I would visit her when I was in town, and I did that even though it was a horrible pain day and I ended up crashing on my mother's couch for most of my visit. It was important to me not to bail because the last time I saw her, I went with her to chemo. Chemo usually takes a couple days to catch up with her, and this time

I could faint from the beauty of this voice. It makes me weak. Opera reminds me of all the big feeling I used to have that I don't seem to have anymore. I don't know if it's menopause, caregiving, or being chronically ill (or all of those things put together), but I often feel that forces that used to drive me (sex, love, jealousy, etc) aren't that relevant anymore. Elements of my emotional life that were so key to my decision-making for years are lost and gone and I don't even care.  I'm not saying I don't love my partner--I love him more than anyone else on the planet. But we spend so much time being ill and caring for one another that I wouldn't say it's that overblown, all-encompassing romance you see at the opera. It used to be, but it's not anymore. Maybe I'm supposed to say I miss being driven by sex and love and jealousy, but I don't think that's true. Those are all still elements of my life and my emotional makeup, but th

I'm still in terrible pain today, so this won't be much of a post, I'm afraid. Looking at a screen for any length of time just isn't working for me. But I wanted to bring you something beautiful. This piece is how I want to feel: peaceful and playful. Instead, I feel sick and hopeless. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) or check them out from your local library.  Supporting my  AudioErotica  endeavour on  Patreon  would also help me hugely. I'm also an  Amazon Influencer,  so hopefully I can make a little pocket change when you buy stuff by clicking through  my affiliate links . I also recommend subscribing to my newsletter. I generally e-mail subscribers with a weekly update, and I would LOVE to have you on the list.  Click here to sign up:  http://eepurl.com/R4b11 See you soon! Giselle

I've probably mentioned this before, but my partner's fatigue is so bad that every morning he gets up, eats breakfast, and then goes back to sleep. Yesterday, when I was struggling with a migraine, I did the same thing. The tricky bit about having to take a bunch of meds in the morning is that I have to eat first. I have to eat a lot, or at least eat something very hearty. Usually, that means oatmeal, which takes time to prepare. Many of the pills I take have side effects like nausea and stomach cramps. I'm talking 3 of the 4 pills I took yesterday morning will 100% make me feel completely sick for the rest of the day if I don't take them with proper quantities of food. Taking them "with food" isn't good enough. It has to be enough food and the right food. Food starts to feel like a prescription. That's an experience my partner and I share, since radiation destroyed his tastebuds. I used to love eating, and now my relationship with food is tricky,

As I was falling asleep last night, I was eagerly looking forward to waking up this morning. I've got so much writing to do, and I wanted to do it. I should have known the stormy weather would have other plans for me. Rain and storms and changes in barometric pressure are my biggest migraine triggers. My doctor has got me on so many meds and supplements to try to prevent chronic migraines from ruining my life completely, and we've managed to reduce the severity of my pain somewhat, but the weather still knocks me on my ass more often than not. As my partner and I drove through a tremendous storm yesterday, I was feeling really tired and not-so-good, but I kept saying to him, "Normally, I would not be able to function with this kind of rain." Well, all I had to do was wait a day. The rain stuck around and I woke up with a migraine. It's almost noon and I've been in bed all morning. This is the first time I've been able to look at my computer. Sorry i

 Woke up with this song in my head. Incredibly, I didn't know what it was called or even who it was by... but I sure know now. I laughed when I saw that it was Supertramp, because I'd just watched the episode of The Simpsons where the whole town is trying to emulate Bart. When Ms. Krabapel (sp?) asks the glass what Marconi's first radio broadcast was, Martin says "Our next caller will receive tickets to Supertramp." heh If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) or check them out from your local library.  Supporting my  AudioErotica  endeavour on  Patreon  would also help me hugely. I'm also an  Amazon Influencer,  so hopefully I can make a little pocket change when you buy stuff by clicking through  my affiliate links . I also recommend subscribing to my newsletter. I generally e-mail subscribers with a weekly update, and I would LOVE to h

I've loved this song since I was a kid, but we're listening to it today because I did something really stupid, and now I've got a really stupid story for you. To preface my really stupid story, I'll tell you that my partner lost a lot of weight when he underwent radiation therapy. Since cancer caregiving is extremely stressful, I lost a lot of weight too. As a result, my engagement ring now fits a little loosely. Well... a lot loosely, as it turns out. I was coming downstairs into the one finished basement room in my partner's house, wearing five thousand layers because being thin equals being cold, apparently. As I walked down the stairs, I was shaking my hands to warm them up. My ring flew off my finger and across the room. We didn't see this happen--we heard it. We heard my ring hit... something... but we didn't know what. We got out a flashlight and looked under the TV, looked on the shelving where it would have most likely ended up, but we could n

There's so much I could write, in relation to this song, about caregiving and the worn-out feeling that comes with being needed too much and for too long.  I could write five thousand posts about times caregiving tasks have triggered a trauma response in me, because my busted limbic system is stuck in a time when I was neglected and parentified in childhood, when I couldn't be a proper kid because I had to take care of other people in a home that was not safe. But it's going to be exhausting, if I write all that, and I would much rather sit back and listen to this beautiful performance while rain and fall leaves pelt my window, and the sky looms ominous and grey over the neighbour's roofline.  I'd rather close my eyes for a while and disappear into this song. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) or check them out from your local library.  Suppo

This is our 1000th post! If you've been following my friendly little music blog since the beginning, you'll know we were on hiatus for nearly two years but, apart from that time, we (by which I mean I) have posted every single day. Every day! For a thousand days! Minus a few hundred in the middle somewhere, but forget about that and concentrate on this thing I feel proud about. I don't often feel pride in my accomplishments, but I know how much work I put into bringing you songs and stories every day, so I am proud of myself. Today is also the anniversary of my first date with my partner, but that is pure coincidence. Thanks for reminding me, by the way. I always forget anniversaries. Why did I choose today's song to celebrate the occasion? I'm not really sure. I was reading emails a minute ago, and I had one from a local radio station that's giving away alt-J tickets (not just giving them away willy-nilly--they're holding a contest. You understand.) an

This is the piece I mentioned yesterday: if you've ever heard A Groovy Kind of Love, you'll be familiar with this tune. I certainly was, when I took piano lessons, as a kid. This Clementi piece was in my Royal Conservatory of Music book, and, even though I took piano lessons in the 80s, I still considered A Groovy Kind of Love to be a hip pop tune. Not having grown up in a home that listened to classical music, 60s pop was certainly more relevant to me anything else I was assigned to learn.  Although, I did enjoy playing a piece called The Happy Farmer... If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) or check them out from your local library.  Supporting my  AudioErotica  endeavour on  Patreon  would also help me hugely. I'm also an  Amazon Influencer,  so hopefully I can make a little pocket change when you buy stuff by clicking through  my affiliate links . I

Yesterday's song reminded me of this one. My ears are telling me they're both based on the same tune (which we will listen to tomorrow), but I don't know for sure. I don't have the most reliable ears. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) or check them out from your local library.  Supporting my  AudioErotica  endeavour on  Patreon  would also help me hugely. I'm also an  Amazon Influencer,  so hopefully I can make a little pocket change when you buy stuff by clicking through  my affiliate links . I also recommend subscribing to my newsletter. I generally e-mail subscribers with a weekly update, and I would LOVE to have you on the list.  Click here to sign up:  http://eepurl.com/R4b11 See you soon! Giselle

My partner got home around 10:30 at night, after spending 13 hours in the emergency room. He's okay. The ER doctor had a lot of concerns that pre-existing conditions (like cancer) had teamed up with the Covid he just got over to produce some really scary results. So my partner had a lot of scans and blood draws, and the results seemed to show that, yes, my partner's not doing so well, but it's manageable stuff, not super-scary stuff. I hope that knowledge was worth thirteen hours at the hospital, but he came home telling me about all the cute babies he'd seem, so I guess his emergency room visit wasn't all bad. He is still very sick, though. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) or check them out from your local library.  Supporting my  AudioErotica  endeavour on  Patreon  would also help me hugely. I'm also an  Amazon Influencer,  so hope

Want to see anxiety in action? Well, look this way, because I'm having a full-day freak-out, over here. I can't remember if I was telling you this, or if I only told my newsletter subscribers, but my partner's health has been declining since he started testing NEGATIVE for Covid. So, basically, when he should have been getting better, he was actually getting worse. Yesterday, I wondered out loud if maybe he'd developed pneumonia. Later that day he talked to his sister-in-law (a retired nurse) on the phone. He didn't mention what I'd said, and, umprompted, she expressed concern that he might have pneumonia. She told him to see a medical professional right away. Last night, we called telehealth. He got a great nurse on the phone, and after he'd explained his symptoms, she told him to go to the emergency room. Immediately. Well, he didn't want to go right away and, considering I waited a week to go to the ER the last time I had chest pains, I was in no

I'm going to classify this clip as painfully nostalgic and nostalgically painful. There is nostalgia, but not in a good way. There is mostly pain--what The Mads would call Deep Hurting. That's this. I fell down a Captain and Tennille rabbit hole while doing research for a book (also known as wasting time instead of writing), and it landed me here. I can't even pinpoint what I find so painful about this. Maybe the total fakeness of it? Maybe just the 70s in general? Maybe the fact that so many of these entertainers are dead and/or have sad stories around them? Maybe it's just the fact that I don't like watching musical numbers like this on TV programs, like on awards shows or anything like that. I always find them cringeworthy, and I don't know why. Anyway, I'm supposed to be writing a book at the moment. Better get back to it. I've set myself a strict timeline for this one. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and a

My partner's been testing negative for Covid for days, so I joined him recently at his small-town house. My poor little sweetheart--he needs so much care. Even though he's testing negative, he still has fatigue that's as bad as anything he experienced while undergoing radiation.  In fact, I think his current fatigue might even be worse.  This morning he got out of bed (after I did, which is saying something), ate breakfast, then fell asleep in a chair. He's been sleeping for hours. When I was in the city, he kept telling me that all he does is sleep. Now I'm seeing it first-hard.  The reason I chose this song today is that I listened to an audiobook during my three-hour journey from my place to my partner's. That audiobook was about menopause, which is one of my favourite topics. Very applicable--the physical, emotional and psychological changes. Apparently I'm not the only one who has cognitive complaints. My memory has never been amazing, but now... yeah,

I published a collection of (adult fiction) stories featuring angels and shadows a couple weeks ago, and I've had this song in my head (on and off) ever since. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) or check them out from your local library.  Supporting my  AudioErotica  endeavour on  Patreon  would also help me hugely. I'm also an  Amazon Influencer,  so hopefully I can make a little pocket change when you buy stuff by clicking through  my affiliate links . I also recommend subscribing to my newsletter. I generally e-mail subscribers with a weekly update, and I would LOVE to have you on the list.  Click here to sign up:  http://eepurl.com/R4b11 See you soon! Giselle

This song was playing at the pharmacy the other day, and I had to laugh because it's a sentiment that seems to go against everything a pharmacy stands for. It's not OK not to be OK, so swallow some pharmaceuticals! If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) or check them out from your local library.  Supporting my  AudioErotica  endeavour on  Patreon  would also help me hugely. I'm also an  Amazon Influencer,  so hopefully I can make a little pocket change when you buy stuff by clicking through  my affiliate links . I also recommend subscribing to my newsletter. I generally e-mail subscribers with a weekly update, and I would LOVE to have you on the list.  Click here to sign up:  http://eepurl.com/R4b11 See you soon! Giselle

I mentioned the other day that I've been watching all the shows my partner usually leaves the room when I put on, since we've been apart for reasons of contagion. So I watched every episode of Doc Martin I had on my PVR, and I kept thinking: this doctor's got more patients in his tiny village waiting room than I've ever seen in the waiting room of my family practice, which is located in the heart of a city of millions. Yesterday I had an appointment at my doctor's office and, sure enough, the waiting room was packed. First time I'd ever seen that, and I've had more appointments with my doctor this year than I've had in all the 15+ years I've been her patient put together. That's an indication of poor health, my willingness to finally take action about my poor health, and nothing working to make my poor health any better. I'm getting pretty sick of doctor's appointments, but at least my GP is compassionate, kind, and friendly. Though,

My hearing isn't what it used to be. I mishear my partner all the time, and often in hilarious ways. He says it's his fault--radiation has made it hard for him to ennunciate--but it's not just my partner I hear wrong. The other day, I was walking down the sidewalk and I overheard a conversation I found perplexing: Woman 1: "He showed me his credit score and, oh my god, it was SO HOT!" Woman 2: "It was hot?" Woman 1: "Yeah, it was, like, REALLY HOT!" Just when I was starting to think I must be missing something (maybe sex has changed since I was young?), their conversation continued with: Woman 2: "Is hot good?" Woman 1: "Yeah, hot is good. Low is bad." That's when I realized they were saying "high," not "hot." The next generation isn't bringing their credit scores to bed after all. I was starting to think it might be a form of foreplay. And maybe it is. What do I know? My late grandmothe

In my partner's absence, I've been watching all the TV shows I like and he doesn't: ghost shows, Midsomer Murders, and, of course, Heartbeat . The only thing my partner likes about Heartbeat is the cars. The music is great, too, if you like songs from the 60s. I do. It's the music I grew up with. This song was featured in an episode I just watched about a renegade washing machine. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecdotes, the easiest thing you can do is buy my books (most are for adults only!) or check them out from your local library.  Supporting my  AudioErotica  endeavour on  Patreon  would also help me hugely. I'm also an  Amazon Influencer,  so hopefully I can make a little pocket change when you buy stuff by clicking through  my affiliate links . I also recommend subscribing to my newsletter. I generally e-mail subscribers with a weekly update, and I would LOVE to have you on the list.  Click here to sign up:  htt

I have had ants in my apartment for years. How do ants end up in a highrise? I have no idea, but I can't get rid of them, no matter what I do. They're just tiny little things, and I do recall the evening they invaded my kitchen for the first time. It was around seven in the evening when a loud sound occured. In fact, it wasn't just a sound--it was a trembling feeling, too. Didn't feel like an earthquake. Felt more like a hundred jackhammers going at the base of my building at once. It went on for a couple minutes, and then it stopped. And when it stopped, there were suddenly all these ants in my kitchen.  Prior to that moment, I had never seen an ant in my apartment. Now I struggle to keep them at bay. I thought I was the only highrise-dweller on the planet who had this problem, but then I was talking to my partner's friend's sister-in-law (as you do), who lives in a condo building my partner actually wanted to move into, at the time. I don't know why she

I made reference to this song in yesterday's post, so we're listening to it today. This is a cover, but I like it better than the original. While I continue to earn far less money as a writer than my big brother Bob (who is actually my younger sister not-Bob), just last week my sister not-Bob with the haircut and the real job was complaining to me about the price of food and the cost of living. I couldn't believe she was feeling the pinch. She makes good money and I've never heard her worry about not having enough. Although she did just take a year of unpaid stress leave from her job, so that could potentially cut into a person's finances. My mother always said that me and my youngest sister (NOT not-Bob) were the kids she never had to worry about. We could always scrounge up money somewhere. I don't know if that's a compliment, but I suppose it's true. It's easier to scrounge when you've been doing it for decades.  If you're wondering

I'm kind of obsessed with this song, for reasons I don't really understand. It isn't nostalgia. Even though this track charted in Canada when I was growing up, I don't remember it at all. The first time I recall hearing it was a couple months ago, on what I will reluctantly call my "oldies" radio station (though, to me, "oldies" will always be music from the 50s and 60s). Money and me got a complicated relationship. I ain't got it and I probably never will.  I have a bad attitude. It's funny how the powers that be (and their minions) want us poors to believe it's our own fault that we're trapped in poverty. Forget that I'm a disabled queer with depression, anxiety, and two kinds of PTSD. If I'd only get a haircut and get a real job, I wouldn't be in this financial situation. The funny thing (to me) is that when I had a haircut AND a real job, I still earned peanuts. I earn fewer peanuts as a writer, but I can do this w

I did two loads of laundry yesterday. I am incredibly proud of myself. One big lesson chronic illness has taught me is that I have to do what I can do while I can do it. I've come to terms with the fact that I have shallow reserves of energy and strength. Most days, I experience too much pain to do any heavy lifting, and that includes laundry. When I'm at my partner's house, it's different. First of all, he has a washing machine inside his house. Second of all, he does the laundry. So that makes it extra easy for me. At my apartment, I let dirty clothes build up into Laundry Mountain, and it's hard to move a mountain. Many things that are easy for most people are no longer easy for me. When I think back on the times when I worked in a warehouse and did other very physical labour, I feel like I'm looking at another life, or another person's life. I used to be strong! I'm a tiny little genderqueer individual, and I always felt like I needed to prove my

My partner has Covid. He didn't notice, at first, because two of the major symptoms (fatigue and sore throat) are things he's been experiencing since he began radiation this summer. When the cough and chills developed, that's when he knew something was different. He was visiting his sister when all this went down, but he's gone home (to his home, where I am not) since. Now his sister has Covid, too. He feels awful that she got sick from him. I feel awful that he's alone and I'm not taking care of him. He keeps telling me I've got enough on my plate with debilitating chronic illness, and I don't need Covid on top of all that. True enough.  I still feel bad that he's alone, though. We've barely spent any time apart since his cancer treatment began. We're listening to a song my partner loves today. Correction: you're listening to it. This song always makes me cry, and I do not feel like crying right now, so you're on your own.  If y

My mother doesn't often tell me stories from her childhood, but she told me one the other day, and now I'm going to pass it on to you. I'd been telling her about trick-or-treating with my friends, as a child. Since I went to school out of district, all my classmates lived in a much nicer neighbourhood than I did. Many of them lived in what I call Home Alone Houses: mansions before McMansions were a thing. Whenever I could, I went trick-or-treating with them, because you got way better candy--sometimes even full-sized chocolate bars! One of the houses on our route belonged to a real estate agent. We always saw her picture in the local paper, so, to us, she was famous. Like a movie star! And of course a movie star would give out full-size chocolate bars, so we were so excited as we raced up to her house. But when the door opened, it wasn't the real estate agent--it was her husband. And he didn't give us full-size chocolate bars. He gave us raisins.  The story m

For the past three months, I've been begging a pharmaceutical company for compassionate release of a very expensive drug my doctor prescribed for me. I've been feeling like Oliver Twist with his bowl of gruel: "Please, Big Pharma, I want free drugs!" My doctor's office got the ball rolling for me, and I think the nurse practitioner who started this process genuinely believed she and her staff would be doing all the work. They definitely did do some paperwork on my behalf at the start, but MY GOD the back-and-forth between this company and me! The time this process has taken! The time, the paperwork, the intrusive questions...  The whole process has just felt so dehumanizing. These companies want to give the impression that their compassionate release programs are compassionate, but compassion never entered into the picture, in my experience. And the process is nowhere near the end. If you're wondering how you can support me in bringing you songs and anecd