Radiation Therapy Is Arduous

I was out on a movie set this afternoon, adding another 3-5 seconds to my 'best-of' trailer, when Lila called and left me a message. I'm always devastated when I miss those calls. Just home from chemo, again, she sounded exhausted, and frustrated. The discomforts she found nearly intolerable in the preparation for the radiation therapy--she's claustrophobic-- seem to be magnified. I "hope" (man, I hate using that word) she doesn't start getting into a 'rejection' syndrome because of the discomfort. She's a German gal, a scholar, a philosopher, and every minor (to us Murkins) inefficiency galls her on a fundamental level.

I can't say I blame her. What kind of inefficiency let her tumors grow undetected for two years or more? Seems a likely question, but wtf do I know, anyway?.

She had a non-oncological, life-threatening event in 2005 or 06. There either wasn't evidence of the cancer then, or they didn't find it. Stage 4, in early 2008? Already? C'mon....Sumbuddy fucked up, imnsho...

I guess we, more 'whole' (more whole? less damaged? ambiguously injured) ones, all 'wish' we could bear--could deflect, parry, absorb--some of the travail borne by our beloveds. (Is depression an avatar or a surrogate for this kind of pain?) We cannot. But our willingness counts for something, I think. Agape and Eros are not antithetical. They can--perhaps must--coexist.

**Hollywood Report: I was right in front of the camera all day. Over-exposure becomes a problem. With a lot of shots, it actually diminishes the chaces of getting seen. I got a featured profile in at least one shot, if it stays in. No 'bump' though. The camera was just about in my ear. They took lighting readings off my illustrious, glowing countenance. If i just may survive the cutting floor...My physiognomy is, in fact, better known in Calcutta than in Albuquerque.