on my own

I respected Barry's wishes not to post anything here or to Facebook until it was a done deal. It's a done deal. We have been separated for a little over a week. The beautiful new apartment is mine, not ours.

I realized about eight months or so ago that I no longer wanted to be married to him, but I was a little too chickenshit to say so to him. So we went to three sessions of marriage counseling with two different counselors. The first counselor was too chatty on our dime, and seemed to be invested in saving the marriage. The second one was really straightforward, asked correct and direct questions, and it was decided.

I was supposed to move a couple of weeks after my accident, but I was laid up for quite a while. I returned after eight weeks, made it through 3-1/2 days, and then spent another two and a half weeks at home and in physical therapy. So I finally moved last Monday,

The sorting and packing was horrendous, but starting to live on my own again was easy. My sophomore year at SUNY-Binghamton, I got my own apartment; I knew after one semester on campus that roommates were not for me.When I moved back from Binghamton in 1980, I lived with my mother and stepfather for a year, then got my own place, then moved in with a boyfriend for about a year. So I mostly lived alone for 20 years, lived with Barry for about 19 years, and here I am by myself again.

It helped that I was moving into a great place: great apartment, great building, great neighborhood. I slept like a baby my first night in my new queen-sized bed, new mattress, new sheets, new comforter and duvet cover. Set up my wi-fi and new TV right away (I bought a smart TV, and am now an official cord-cutter). Everything is basically new except my mother's ancient beat-to-shit cedar chest, which I may sell.

I never bought either of those chairs, but I did buy two identical bookcases (a wood-tone one for the living room, and a blue one for the bedroom), and a TV stand (all yet to be assembled). Real oak shades in the living room windows, and blue vinyl mini-blinds for my bedroom (put up by my outstanding super, Reggie). There's a small trash chute and recycling bins on my floor, and a laundry room on the lobby floor (the laundry machines are quite new and the laundry room, like the lobby and hallways, is spotless).

I also bought an oak secretary and a small teak mirror (both vintage) from my pal Lars at Lenoba.

The kitchen and bathroom are both a little smaller than I like, but the bedroom and the living room are big, and I love the dinette to pieces. And did I mention the five closets? Two huge, two small, and a small linen closet.

Most of the apartments I've had never really felt like a long-time home, so I never really nested. I lived among cartons. I was very afraid that I'd be lazy and live among cartons again, but I'd say I'm about 3/4 unpacked by now. It helps a lot that I had good storage space, that I pared down my belongings before moving, and that I had the money to furnish from scratch. And that I love this apartment and can see staying here for a very long time.

I'm located a block and a half from Kings Highway in Brooklyn, about 3-1/2 blocks from the B/Q station at Kings Highway. It takes me 15-20 minutes to get to work. KH has all kinds of good shopping: greengrocers and delis and Russian gourmet stores, a dry cleaner and a housewares store and a hardware store. Within the ten or so blocks of KH between Ocean Avenue and Coney Island Avenue, there's a TJ Maxx and a few boutiques and shoe stores, a Rite-Aid and a Duane Reade and a Walgreens, numerous banks (including mine), some restaurants (Turkish, Russian, and a Chipotle to boot), two  Dunkin' Donuts and a Starbucks. All that's missing is a supermarket and a movie theater. (The Walgreens used to be the Kingsway Theater; I shop at a good supermarket across the street from my job and have it all delivered.)

I still need two chairs for the living room (I was going to pull the trigger on the first chair in my last post, but it had already sold). I need a microwave stand for the kitchen and a garbage can. I may ditch the TV stand and get a wall mount. I need at least one end table and a plant stand and plants. (My friend Charles had been making ultra-cool planters and lamps, and I will get at least one planter from him.)

Two of my wonderful work friends assembled the dining table and chairs. I am good friends with three middle-twenties guys at work; we occasionally get together and avail ourselves of herbal remedies on Fridays, when we get out of work at 2. There are a few women who are close to Charles, who is the social butterfly of the group and usually arranges the parties, but they are drinkers rather than herbalists and like to go to bars. One of them sometimes joins us, but she's actually the only one I don't care for. She's the only one of the entire group who treats me like I'm too old. Charles' roommate often joins us. Next get-together is here, a week from Friday, and will also include a co-worker of Barry's, who is friends with one of the other guys, lately friendly with me, and fits right in. My three closest friends, my guys, are a great mix: one black and gay, one ex-Orthodox and gay, and one ex-Lubovich California boy. (The Lubovichers are an Orthodox sect who actively recruit non-religious Jews.)

Anyway, my 45-minute writing alarm went off, which means it's time to do some more work here. I promise to post more photos as soon as I can figure out how to get my phone to talk to my computer.

moving and falling, and maybe more

My husband and I are separating, in an entirely amicable manner. I had never really given it that much thought because it was entirely unaffordable, though I know that I craved to live alone. Once I inherited money from my aunt, the thoughts started to come to the surface, and I realized I no longer wanted to be married to my husband. We went to three counseling sessions. The most interesting thing that came out is that he was not willing to do the work to keep the marriage together. I guess it wasn't a surprise, but it was a surprise to hear him say it, to have it acknowledged.

So I found an apartment, which would have been impossible without having some money to put behind it, since my credit is only fair and my salary is low. I made a cash-based deal to rent a very lovely one-bedroom apartment near Kings Highway. Good neighborhood, very good building (including an elevator, laundry room, and super).

However, a few days before I was supposed to move, I was going through some cartons stacked outside the doorway of my old apartment, stepped back a little too far, and began to fall down the stairs backward.

As best I can reconstruct this, I fell down several stairs, grabbed the banister to try to stop, and the momentum flung me over the banister and I fell to the next floor, face down. I believe the banister caught me very hard on my left hip and groin. I had my hand in front of my face, so I only had a tiny bump on my head (did not lose consciousness), and a bit of a bloody nose. But I did not move in case I had a back injury. I yelled to Barry to call Hatzolah (a very good volunteer ambulance service), and went to Community Hospital, where I was examined and x-rayed. The x-ray showed I had fractured my first lumbar vertebra, L-1.

So Barry and L-1 and I went home in a car service, and the next day, went to my doctor, who is thankful only a block away. I was in a lot of pain and couldn't walk more than a shuffle. He immediately put me on Cipro (some of the color and raised quality of the bruising indicated an infection) and a strong ibuprofen. The following day, I told him that the ibuprofen was doing nothing, and he put me on oxycontin instead. My left butt cheek turned almost entirely purple, as well as my groin, and part of my mons.

I went, and continue to go, to the doctor every day, where I was getting daily shots of an anti-inflammatory and a muscle relaxant. Had an MRI of my lumbar area and two of my hip/pelvis (one with contrast and one without), and another x-ray, which showed my T-12 vertebra was also fractured and the fractures were causing the discs below to bulge.

I missed Thanksgiving with my family.

My hip really hurt more than my back, and I spent a lot of time sleeping/resting on my right side. Slowly, the pain began to abate, and the bruise started to vanish, The doctor stopped the shots, I finished the course of Cipro, and got a back brace.

By a few days ago, I was having a lot less hip pain, but I asked the doctor to have a test done to make sure there had been no damage to my organs. So I had a sonogram done a few days ago.

The sonogram showed two masses on my left kidney, which may or may not be related to the fall; it may be residual blood clots from the internal bleeding. It may also be cancer. I am supposed to have a CT scan today for a better look.

So this took place over the past week and a half. Barry has been a champion. He took the first week off from work, and has accompanied to every doctor visit and test, while taking care of all household things and all shopping. He arranged to have whatever was already packed moved to my new apartment. (My move was scheduled for three days after my accident.) He has been amazing.

I have updated friends and family daily, as well as notifying my job. My best work friends, Charles and Jonathan, have texted pretty much every day, This apartment is too small and grungy to have visitors. I've also been publishing updates on Facebook daily. I have a lot of good support.

After I got the sonogram results, I told everyone the sonogram was "inconclusive" and that I had to have a CT scan. No reason to worry my 86-year-old father until there was actually something to worry about. I did tell the true story to my brother and to my bestie, Robin.

So I am mostly out of pain and thoroughly panicked. The doctor said that if it is cancer, it is easily treatable. And I do have a second kidney.

This has been, to say the least, an ordeal. My walking improved pretty quickly. My appetite was really poor, and although we initially ordered a lot of take-out, we've been relying pretty heavily on the new gourmet shop attached to the excellent greengrocer right next to the doctor. I needed food that would tempt me, so I've been eating a lot of goat cheese and crackers, fresh-press juices, and gelato. Barry brings lattes a couple of times a day. I recently discovered the shop's pre-packed salads, which are fancy and excellent. He also buys chocolates for the office staff at the doctor's; the "girls," as the doctor calls them, are endlessly hardworking and pleasant. They have performed admirably in wrestling with my insurance company to get my tests approved and scheduled.

I have basically paid nearly nothing this whole time. I paid a $20 co-pay this first time I saw the doctor, and everything else has been a follow-up at no charge. We've paid co-pays for my meds, and for car services to and from the labs. But that's about it. My insurance has proved to be very good. I have weekly Skype sessions with my therapist.

I'm going on disability from my job, and the move is on hold. In my new apartment, I have one rug laid and the other is there but not yet laid. I have my mattress (the bed will arrive December 17), all my linens, a microwave, a TV, a blender, dishes, flatware, and a vintage Danish teak dresser. (I did give Barry a bunch of money, and he's landed a share at a friend of a friend's). I haven't been able to think much about the move and furnishings; I have nothing yet for the living room and no dining table and no kitchen island (the kitchen is low on counter space, which is basically the only flaw in the apartment), and no shades. I have chosen styles and colors for the various rooms. The bedroom is blue, the living room is various warm colors, the bathroom is green, and the kitchen will be highlighted in bright red. For some sense of my design ideas, you can visit my rather large Pinterest (www.pinterest.com/jennlevy1). I spent a chokingly large amount of money on my bed and mattress.

Furnishing from scratch is exciting and scary. I'm mixing real and faux mid-century modern pieces. Buying the small stuff was easy; buying the big/expensive pieces is scary (except for the dresser, which was so enchanting that I bought it immediately).

But this all seems very far away now. My real life seems very far away. I will be doing a lot of physical therapy for my back, and of course there may or may not be extensive treatments for my poor kidney.

I thought this was all drawing to an end once the pain was pretty much gone. Once the pelvic/hip pain abated and I got the back brace, I've felt a lot better, though I'm still taking oxy and resting a lot. I only found out about the kidney yesterday, and I've done a good deal of crying since then. This has perhaps been the scariest part of the whole ordeal: scarier than the ER, the fractured back, the ceaseless pain in my hip and groin. Last night, I wanted my mother like nobody's business. 

the long honeymoon

I saw Elvis Costello last night, and when he played this:

tears ran down my face. It happens to be a very sad song, and one of my favorites from "Imperial Bedroom," but I guess what got to me was the topic of a broken relationship. Since mine is.

It was my decision to separate, but instead of my saying so, we went to three sessions of marriage counseling, at my suggestion. I guess maybe I wanted someone neutral present. The first two sessions with one counselor were hopeless; he was not a very good counselor. The next counselor really helped us nail it down.

So I'm moving out at the end of this month. I have a lovely one-bedroom apartment which I can't afford on my salary. And never would have gotten given my salary and my credit report. I used a portion of my inheritance from my aunt, and I am also banking on earning more within two years.

My husband and I are very good friends. We've both cried a lot over this. But we agreed that certain things are not what they should be, and I think we've both known that I am better-suited to living alone.

I am furnishing my apartment from scratch, which I've never done before, and it's costly and scary. My therapist reminds me that nothing is permanent. If I hate the rug once it's on the floor, I can always get another rug (but sell the other, natch).

I'm sure I'm dealing with my fear and anxiety by obsessing over details of my new home. I actually set up a page on Pinterest and have been obsessively "pinning" rugs, sofas, beds, chairs, duvet covers, vases, china, flatware, mugs, glasses, kitchen islands, throw pillows, ottomans...pretty crazy. But, however, it has permitted me to think about what I want my apartment to look like, and I've already chosen the living room and bedroom rugs, I've picked a mattress and I'm very close to picking a bed (platform or captain's). Oh, and I bought a laptop.

I have the keys now, but my target move date is November 30. But first I have to put in at least the rugs and the bed.

I find myself starting to write obsessively about the apartment stuff.

Instead, I will say, I'm separating about 19 years together, married almost 16, and it's scary and exciting, a very new and different life.

Oh, and there's a horrible election today. Or rather, the end of a really horrible campaign. In just a matter of months, I have more bad things to say than I have to say about Walmart (and don't get me started on Walmart, because I've been at that for years). I'm astonished by the classlessness at this level of political race. That scary orange guy has a wild imagination and absolutely no filter. He's dragged down the dignity of a presidential campaign. And people support this guy, despite his proven lack of character, bigotry, untruthfulness, and ugly tactics. Saying "crooked Hillary," apparently, is enough to turn a lot of people against her. Someone told me today that they were voting for Trump, "because Hillary is crooked." I'm pretty sure he doesn't exactly know what "crooked" means, or what "crooked" acts he's being accused of - but he's a Trump guy.

Also, I love that the topic of one of Hillary's emails to Huma Abadin, was, "What was the name of that older Indian actor we met a few years ago?" If forgetting Amitabh Bachchan's name is a crime, I guess she is crooked.