A Pilgrim’s Digression

The results of grandma’s CT scan were not heartening. The tumor has grown; her doctor suggested that she try another form of chemotherapy, and yesterday she had her first treatment.

I called her around 4:30, and knew when I heard her speak that the news wasn’t good. She sounded different, tired. After she told me the results, I said, “You sound more tired than usual. Is this new treatment worse than the other chemo?”

She said no, that the treatment is actually easier than before, taking only two hours instead of the usual four to five. She said she has some chest congestion she can’t get rid of which has made her tired. The doctor said it was just an ordinary cold, however.

I asked about the side effects of the new chemo. She said the only thing the doctor mentioned is that she can’t drink any cold beverage for about a week after treatment. She has to drink liquids at room temperature or warmer. Apparently cold liquids will results in a kind of long term brain freeze that, as you can imagine, would be pretty uncomfortable. Grandpa made the joke that she will no longer be able to drink cold chocolate; it will have to truly be hot chocolate.

Grandma said that what she was really going to miss is ice cream. She and grandpa have made a habit of going out for ice cream in the evening, and now she won’t be able to do that, at least not the first week after treatment. Since her chemo is every two weeks, that gives her a window of about a week to indulge, but the threat of a painful side effect might make it difficult to enjoy her treat even when she knows she should be safe.

We didn’t talk long. She seemed glad when I asked her about the weather, and she talked a little about grandpa’s vegetable garden and all the good beans they are getting. No tomatoes just yet. Maybe by the end of the month.

Finally, as we were saying goodbye, I said, “Well I am glad you are continuing treatment. You have to fight.”

She said, “Yes, but you know it’s just something we have to accept. I’m not going to get better.”

It. Accept it.

True enough, but it’s like consenting to live with the person who you know is going to murder you one day.

I slept reasonably well last night. I still woke up about every hour, but was able to go back to sleep easily. Then I woke up about a half hour before the alarm went off, and I didn’t go back to sleep. But I don’t feel too bad, today. Just normal. About average. I don’t remember my dreams.

At the bus stop last week, I found a little pink Croc, probably this one. It’s infant-size, and I thought, “Someone will miss that.” So I hung it from its strap on a screw on the back of the bus stop sign.

Today, it was lying in the grass. I picked it up and put it on the curb. Maybe the pink will catch someone’s eye as they drive by, but maybe not. It’s a very small shoe.

If not, I’ll get to see how long it remains on the curb. I am betting it will only last until winter, and then the first snow will cover it, and a snowplow will bury it even more with the sooty ice scraped from the street, and then it will either be swept away by the street cleaners or washed away in the dirty winter rain.