I am sure you are all surprised to see it in this mirror-loving, self-centered endeavor of information, but that's a picture of me.
And if you look, all around me...can you see it? It's kind of hard, because it is invisible. But that's AIR!
Apparently they have it outside in abundance.
In here we don't really have air, per se. We have a heady mixture of filtered oxygen, tension, fear, laundry dander, and the reconstituted, ever-floating molecules of prednisone farts.
I prefer air.
Though it is really hard to get. There was a flight of stairs on our walk...sheesh. I have not done any vertical work in about a month. Very very strange. The simple firing of muscle groups in a manner they have not fired since April. Going down stairs was equally odd--not hard as such, but kind of like reading Dutch phonetically but with your body...when you don't speak Dutch, I guess.
But I should back up. Today was actually not so good. I think I kind of knew that might be the case. Yesterday just had a honeymoon feel to it, so I was a bit ready.
My numbers were up this morning. Not vaulting up to health and triathlons, but up. Incrementally moving in the direction away from the 'sorta dead,' where they have been maintained by the friendly and effective medical establishment.
We were told these might be the days of upping numbers. N has been good to keep me on keel that this may be when it comes, and that when it comes it does not contravene the protocol or the treatment.
That has been one of my fears. That getting better, firmer, too early, would somehow screw up their poisoners' regimens and allow the cancer sanctuary. In all honesty, them telling me that is not the case doesn't go that deep into my terror, but I hear it. And I try to listen. They are the Drs, right? Either that or some people are missing some lab coats. And crocs.
Nothing as bad as last time, but no better either. Just really tired and down, a little nauseated but more just un-hungry. You learn these immensely valuable, infinitesimal distinctions between things like nauseated versus un-hungry, tired versus run down, grey versus flavorless. Skimpy gradations of difference in the unpleasantness that somehow, by being cataloged and specified, push the slow day past one sigh faster.
But N collected all the necessary permissions and got me out for a walk. She had done some impressive subterfuge to finagle access to the lovely college campus with the over-zealous--read 'bored'--security men next door to the hospital. She found a Dr here who knew the name of a Dr there in their tiny medical school, and we were all primed with excuses and the flashing of ID bands and the like.
Which of course meant we walked right through because a woman in an Explorer was late for her shift and so just about ran the security guard over.
Last month when we wandered the same campus, there was this gentle slope to the main hall. Oddly, it had become the backside ascent to K2, and so, thwarted in our first attempt of the summit, we cut to the side and traversed a less steep pitch of sycamores to the fountain in the corner, where I sat.
I have discovered where a lot of my weight has left. I was down to 142 this morning, after yet another day of eating like you read earlier. Just deciding to not worry about it; I have a 141 to go before its a real problem, right?
Anyway, if any of you see my ass out there, just collect it up in ziploc bag or Tupperware or something and drop me a line.
Sitting with N on a bench in the glorious sunshine is a lovely lovely thing for me, in some ways better and of more value than anything I can think I need right now.
I do wish I were sitting on more than my coccyx, the undersides of my femurs, a shoddy and slack layer of medium grade leather flesh, and running shorts.
And there is N, maneuvering herself every couple of minutes to take the glare on her back and keep the sun off my head and exposed stick-legs. Moving a little to one side, then the other, gesturing unconsciously to the hat she wishes I wold put back on...but of course that would smooosh the mohawk, and one has one's priorities.
We stayed out about 45 minutes. Joy, sun, air, insane changes of altitude.
The grey had settled over my palate early and so we were searching for any food I might want. I saw two ice cream sandwiches, with girls attached. Maybe I could eat an ice cream sandwich. N approached them. The one she spoke to was German:
"Excuse me, where did you get those ice cream sandwiches?"
"Gristedes (for non-NYers; the grocery store)."
"Oh, OK. They don't have them at the cafeteria over there?
"No...but you can get the big box at the Gristedes."
She'll do fine in NY.
And then we walked back to the hospital, to the loading zone in front of the hospital, where absolutely hate-filled and selfish bastards sneak up the drive-loop and shove women with infants out of the way so that they can get in the waiting cabs before the waiting cabs get to line up in front of the polite humans in wheelchairs and with bandages waiting patiently at the "taxi here" line further on.
Sort of refreshing to see how much some people suck. I would have worried if the world had changed too much while I was gone. Silly me.
But the day was overall a winner. I am that one step further from the Devil. I may be that one step closer to going home to whatever happens next. Or not.
Left foot. Right foot. Repeat.
