The curse of the small town.

I saw my doctor today: my doctor, not Richard’s doctor, not Trixie’s doctor, but my doctor. Dr. Foster doesn’t know Richard. She knows of him, but that is all. I had convinced myself that this was my final refuge: the last place on planet earth where I could play the medical patient extraordinaire. (My surgeon goes to church with Richard. I knew I couldn’t really convince him that I was the 'medical patient extraordinaire'.)

I was wrong. Dr. Foster first words were, “I heard about Richard. How is he doing?” It is the curse of the small town. There is no escaping reality.

To say in Dr. Foster’s defense, she really cares. Every time my eyes misted over, hers did too. I really like her.

And Richard is exhausted. Two weeks down, four to go. It is grueling. His taste is wacked out. He says water tastes horrible. His appetite is gone and he has heartburn. But the exhaustion is the big thing.

But, he has decided he wants to go back to his 40 year reunion from Catholic University in late September. I am all for that! Yee-haw, trip back east (DC and New Jersey… and some places in between!)