"GETTING TO GO"

I'LL FOREVER WONDER if the reason I came through the mastectomy without losing my sanity might be because I had become so hungry for something different to do that I welcomed even what promised to be a negative experience. I'm a hypochondriac who is deathly afraid of doctors, and the family marveled at what appeared to be "bravery" on my part, but I don't think it could be termed "courage" and certainly not "fearlessness"......how embarrassing if it was merely "boredom".




So after seeing Mr. Bob through months of treatment (and one of these days I must come clean about what living with chemo was REALLY like, but not just yet), and weeks of my own tests and surgery and recuperation and the beginning of my own  chemotherapy program, the last week of "rest" between medications has been what in the drug world might be termed a "trip". 


Even though my eyesight seems to have dimmed somewhat, my receptors have been overwhelmed with insights and ideas and appreciations. One night I made myself get up at 3 a.m. to write down some of the thoughts that were flooding my brain, just so I could fall back into the sleep that usually comes so easily.

I've been letting myself be more spontaneous about going places and following through on ideas, dragging my own precious Scrooge along with me, so far with less complaints from him than when I'm trying to please him rather than myself. 


A friend I'd not seen for months suggested meeting for lunch last week and the actuality brought me such pleasure that I determined to indulge myself more often. That very same evening we joined our former neighbors for our monthly Chinese dinner at a big round table with a lazy Susan in the middle, laden with succulent offerings; definitely the way to go at an Asian restaurant is with a large group which gives one a taste of many flavors. After dinner I drove through Montrose which always enhances one's Christmas spirit.  The tree that was written about in scathing terms in our local paper didn't shock me at all, but rather brought a smile to my face because it dared to be so different. I know who wrote the letter of complaint and I'm sitting on my hands to keep from responding. Christmas isn't the time to be argumentative.

Two days later, we partied rather than stitching at the weekly Needlepoint Group, with lunch and an ornament exchange that was good fun.


Breakfast with friends on  Sunday, after which, wonder of wonders, I was moved to get the first Christmas tree we've had in probably 15 years. I'll do a separate entry about it. I still can't believe it happened as I marvel at the whiffs of Christmas that emanate from it.


Remember, everything that I like, I tend to do in excess and being sprung from what felt like bondage, showed that tendency of mine, so on Monday after taking Mr. Bob to the cardiologist ("everything's fine.....see you in 3 months"), we stopped at Leon's, a new bakery in town and shared a pulled pork sandwich with extra aioli.














Mr. Bob's radiation

appointment on Tuesday took longer than usual; I would have had to drive over the speed limit to get back to the Manor before they stopped serving dinner, so I found a parking place and we enjoyed seafood at Clancy's......Mr. Bob ordered cedar plank salmon. He said not a word about its being good. I hope it was. My fish and chips were excellent.


This morning early I descended to the bowels of the building and had my hair washed and blown dry before rising to the occasion of taking Bob for his daily dose of electromagnetic waves; from there to the credit union and next our minivan nosed its way to a place called The Toasted Bun where we had a late breakfast.

I'm ashamed of the amount of hedonism I've exhibited in this past week. In my heart of hearts I know that I'd do it again, given the chance. I can feel a New Year's resolution or 2 coming up. Meanwhile, "DECADENCE" is my word of the month. At a nearby school, it appears to be something else.

"Too much of a good thing can be wonderful."
                                  ~ Mae West

BITTER MEDICINE

YOU COULDN'T HAVE ASKED for a more beautiful dawn. I'm glad no one's here to see me staggering around in my nightgown on mornings like that, raising the sun blind and fumbling with my camera, hurrying before the color changes. Just minutes later the sky had changed to this:

Let me set the domestic medical scene. A couple of months ago the oncologist prescribed potassium for Mr. Bob, to be taken twice a day. Some of you may know......we didn't.......that particular pill is huge. I think it could be termed a "horse pill". And the taking of it included a lot of complaining from Him Who Rarely Complains about it scraping his throat. 

On one of my outings to the pharmacy, I spotted a pill cutter and purchased it as a little surprise for him. But He Who Doesn't Like Gifts used it once and put it aside as useless and the complaining continued. 

The doctor suggested putting the pill in applesauce and gulping it down by that method. There was no grousing for a while which was a relief to both of us, but then it began again. We had to play a game of twenty questions before it came to light that he had run out of applesauce. He Who Doesn't Believe in Back Up Supplies had neglected to tell Her Who Is in Charge of Groceries that more applesauce should be on the next shopping list.


Last Thursday I asked the gerontologist who visits the Manor weekly if potassium could be taken in liquid form. The answer was affirmative, so yesterday we went to the Tea Room, where juice is on tap every day. We were armed with the bottle of Potassium Chloride, a tablespoon (Pray tell, what do oldsters without computers do to find out what 20 MCG (15 ML) is as a dosage?)


I recorded the proceeding which ended with a shudder.

“It should be the function of medicine to help people die young as late in life as possible”

Ernst Wynder