Wet Wednesday

Because you had an appointment with the chief oncological surgeon at Kaiser Sunset Wednesday afternoon, I arranged to work only a half day. It went well. It was raining which meant my lunch started fifteen minutes earlier than usual, so I was able to get home quickly. We went to the animal hospital to see Quincy before we went on up to Hollywood. He was doing better today. After a fifteen-minute wait, we were ushered back to the ICU where he was. He was more alert and gave a sloppy tail-wag when he heard your voice. He was trying to move about today so the staff had closed the door to his cage. They let us get in and love him up. Then, after each getting a very sloppy, doped-up kiss, we happily left him there, unsure of when we would be retrieving him but relieved to see him recovering.

We got to Sunset early. You wanted to have lunch at Subway. I don't care for Subway but agreed to split a sandwich with you. We got one of the toasted ones. It was fair but didn't sit well with you, especially since you had already been having some gas from an ice cream sandwich you'd had at home. For the next three hours you suffered from very painful gas. You excused yourself from the examination room several times while we were at the doctor's.

The doctor we saw was the head of the big department although he couldn't have been even forty, and his associate was even younger. Both had trained at St. John's. The associate's smock still said 'John Wayne Cancer Institute' on it. He had just transferred from a rotation there. In fact, Julie told me today that he had worked with her while she was doing chemo. The short story is that, even if your tumor shrinks with chemo, it will still be inoperable. The resections you've read about, so they say, are being done on tumors around another, smaller artery in the pancreatic area, not the superior mesenteric artery. The doctor who is doing this work at St. John's is named Dr. Singh. Despite the discouragement, we will still pursue a consultation with Dr. Singh. We aren't ready to throw in the towel.

We came home. You slept. I had dinner with Dad. I feel the time with the door closed has significantly relieved the stress and lack of privacy I had been feeling before. I had a nice time eating with Dad. When Carmi had come in on Tuesday to find Quincy with the pills in his mouth, she was bringing you a plate of salmon, spinach salad and an herb roll. She had it in the refrigerator for you. It looked beautiful. I woke you at 6:20. I could tell you were toying with the idea of not going to your cancer support group, but you got up, ate, and we went. It was nice. It is so good to go to that place where they don't treat you like a dead man, a place where you can be with others who are struggling with their own cancer battles. And for me, I get to talk with people who are supporting a loved one with cancer. I don't like having to be in the group, but it's a helpful place.

We picked up Q-ball at about 10 p.m. He had been at the animal hospital for 29 hours, and the bill came to $2500. Add that to the $675 we spent at our local vet's yesterday, and you're looking at a pretty pricey prescription mishap. Quincy couldn't really walk. His front legs were working but his back legs were limp and his balance was off. I drove the van home while you knelt on the floor in the back with him. Holding him by his harness allowed you to hoist him around. I wrapped my arms around near his back legs, and we got him into the house. Once inside he was very agitated. We couldn't understand why he seemed anxious and whiny. By letting him guide us around the house, I had discovered a back-washer in the shower. It was long, narrow, soft and had handles on each end. It was perfect for slipping under Quincy's back end. We eventually discovered that he wanted to go outside----and eventually he peed and walked us right back to the house. Once we put him back up on the bed, he feel right asleep. I stayed with him until he fell off the bed at 4:45 and then you took over. We were out walking him up and down the street again at 5:00. Maybe he peed again, maybe he pooped. It was too dark and I was too tired to know for sure. I fell asleep until 6:45 and went to work on four hours' sleep.

We were out of coffee at home. I had Starbucks on the way to work. Kenneth had not done well for the substitute. She left me a big note in huge lettering. The cafeteria had served french toast with maple syrup for lunch and the kids who did a lousy job wiping their desks were greeted this morning by armies of ants. Rosie hadn't found the note in my lesson plans that told what the homework was, so she substituted something else. It was raining again. The day was tough. This class is tough. Why do I have a tough class this year? Why of all years, do I have another tough class this year? Lunch was truncated but I didn't have any food anyway. I had that IEP after school and then had to rush home to watch Q-ball while you went to chemo. I arrived home to a letter informing me that I have jury duty that starts during the second week of Spring Break. Apparently my note about your pancreatic cancer didn't change their minds about calling me to jury duty. I called and postponed it until August 30. Am I whining? Sorry. But you never have minded my occasional whining. You've always indulged my whining.

I will make shepherd's pie for dinner. I will eat with Dad and Carmi. Florinda is here doing her magic; I hope Quincy doesn't have a big poopy accident after she makes our house look so wonderful. But I forgot to pick up the cash to pay her and forgot coffee again. Guess I'll be getting another venti at Starbucks tomorrow morning too.