Bitch on Wheels

I love those seemingly normal, fairly average…nothing-to-write-home-about nights that, out of nowhere, turn into a life changing experience. I was prepared to hang out with a couple of friends, drink some wine, smoke a joint and way too many cigarettes, which by the way, is an amazing evening to me in itself. I hate going out. There’s nothing ‘out’ that I feel I need to spend my time doing. Bars are annoying, actually no, it’s not the bars that are annoying, it’s the people. Or maybe it’s me and my antisocial-ness, I’ll take the blame. Whatever the reason, I don’t like going out. But who would have thought that someone who couldn’t go out, even if she wanted to, would have such an incredible impact on me on such an unexpected evening.

Nadia. She’s 64, I believe she said. She’s a cancer survivor, which before this evening I probably would have scoffed at that word…survivor. See, Nadia recently had one of her legs amputated. Me, young and arrogant, thought what kind of survival is that? You can’t walk, you’re in a wheel chair! I felt sorry for her. After hearing this woman speak to us for hours tonight, I started to feel sorry for myself! Sharp as a tack, hysterically funny and swears like a sailor. Behind every word and every story there was this silent attitude that screamed, ‘fuck cancer, what else ya got, I’ll beat that too.’ She drank with us, a self proclaimed ‘wino’. She could drink a frat boy under the table, believe me. Might be the fact that she’s Ukrainian. No attempt to take the drinking title away from the Irish, but Ukes pour vodka in their breakfast cereal. Nadia lit up her sixteenth cigarette and told us a story about how she got her dad stoned when he came to visit, it was his birthday. She was forty-something at the time and she remembered thinking her parents were ancient. She’s not much older than my mother, but she’s hipper than my mom could ever be. Hell, she’s hipper than I could ever be. She refers to it as grass, which is so incredibly awesome I can’t stand it. We didn’t smoke any with her tonight, but next time, I’m bringing her a bag.

I’ve been through some fucked up things in my life and it’s taken me a long time to learn that you have a choice, and it sounds easier said than done, but it really is simple…laugh or cry. It’s your choice. Nadia made me realize that the only thing that can break you, is you. I had only a little sample tonight of the wisdom that emanates from this amazing woman, I already can't wait until next time. Nadia’s experienced so many incredible things that I’m not sure I’ll ever get to do in my lifetime. I can only hope. She’s also been through hell and back, but she’s found the positive lessons to be learned from every one of those moments. And she claims she’s ready to do it all over again, but this time on her new scooter. I’m bringing a notebook next time.

As I drove home I found I was a little sad. I remembered her telling us she might get a prosthetic leg sometime in December. The operative word there is might. A bunch of bullshit with Medicare and money, so she’s not even sure it will happen. I thought about this as I drove through Hollywood. I couldn’t help but think about how twisted our society is sometimes. Especially here in LA, where one can see so clearly the absurd amount of money that successful actors, for instance, get paid. Money they won’t be able to spend in their lifetime, money they can’t take with them when they go. Money they get paid to play pretend. Maybe even to play an amputee in a film someday. Yes I’m sitting here complaining about how unfair the world is. And I know no one ever said that it would be. Funny thing is, I'll probably cry over it before Nadia will.