I've never learned to surf but I cannot imagine the very first surfer just grabbed a big plank of wood and was immediately shooting the curl on the first try.
Tuesday I tried to be a good soldier. I got out of bed early enough to get a good breakfast and space out those pills again and be on time for my second official day as the hotdog in the microwave. We got off a little late for the unknown amount of traffic into town but no harm done. Zap and another round of giggles from the regular morning technicians for the same Mr. Scofield, no call me John jokes. I told my sister I need to get some new material to keep top billing.
Afterwards, Jody had not had any breakfast for herself and we had a bit more than an hour wait to see the oncology nurses to have my little port flushed. Dr. Grasso had strongly suggested it the day before on pain of having to remove a clogged port and do the whole thing over again. Quick, get me to the oncologist! In that hour wait we visited Dunkin Donuts to get a coffee for her and a Gatorade for me; just in case the heparin flush left me with a bad taste. We endured the smells of burning something and rather lacklustre coffee and got the heck out of there. I was getting more and more drowsy by the minute and wondering if this was a good schedule to try to keep if I hoped to continue working.
Turns out that yesterday's altered schedule worked better. Instead of breakfast beforehand, I got nuked first then came home to eat and poison myself figuring I'd rather get sleepy at home than on the road. Jody had to go downtown very early and we'd not arranged for anyone to drive me instead so I drove myself. I was fine all the way through. Breakfast late (~8:30am) actually charged me up and I was feeling very good by 9; even with the pills on my stomach. No nausea but a little reflux from Monday before but otherwise raring to go.
Tuesday had been an emotional day to start with. My thoughts often wandered to my friend Mark and his friend Linda whom we had met for dinner in Manhattan the night of Sept 9th, 2001. She was lost in the towers on Sept 11th and she is my most personal reminder every year.
Tuesday was also when my pal James had vowed to pound out the work to get my BMW back on the ground. I was riding these waves of physical and emotional pain all day only to hit that perfect wave of happiness right before bed. Jody said I looked the best I had in days as the car methodically came back together. It lasted through Wednesday and is boosting me still this morning as I write this post. Thank you, James. :)
Yesterday I dusted off old friendships and found them just as warm as always having lunch with several of my oldest friends from work. I'd needed to share the news with these guys too but there was a very surreal kind of hiccup to carefully plan my way past. I don't want to go into detail here because the hiccup is fantastic and strange and wonderful and very very private for a family I care very much for and this just isn't the venue for it. Suffice it to say I really did not want to share my news with them while they are in the midst of what's happening around them but I firmly believe, still even, that this is all happening for a very good reason and as part of a very perfect plan for all of us.
Dinner went down smooth and the reflux is better this morning. In an hour I'll be on my own long board of sorts ready for today's waves. Microwaves that is.
Ba dum CHEE!