Chauffeur

For now, I’m hanging up my chauffeur cap.

Richard can drive. Actually, he drove to mass on Sunday and did a roundtrip (unescorted) all the way to Parkdale on Monday evening. I tell you, it was like my teenage son was out for the first time. And I was nervous for no reason.

I did do the driving to Portland on Tuesday (at Richard’s request), but tonight Richard has driven himself into Hood River. Unescorted, once again.

And Richard’s doctor’s appointment went well. His blood pressure was still a bit low, but they let him go home without an infusion. Most of the nagging, little (notice how I can make Richard’s woes sound so minimal, while mine are of “…a dimension and severity seldom seen…”) side effects of chemo and radiation have started to subside. The radiation burn on his back is finally starting to look better and he feels his singing voice returning. He even gained another pound. His blood counts aren’t back up to normal, but they are totally okay for where he is.

He has (or will have) a CAT scan scheduled for mid-August, and then sees his oncologists on August 20th. So, barring any amazing developments, we will discontinue Richard updates until after the 20th of August and go onto much more critical issues, such as “How can you tell if your cat has purged his purchased cat food to make more room for a tasty little rodent, or did he simply barf on the dryer?”

Or, “Why do the cats get the summer off and I still have to go to work?” Hey, I just realized it ain’t just the summer. Those two lazy bastards have been living off our largesse for way too long now. Anyone want to hire a couple of cats?

Real Estate 101

I’m sure you are all aware that after location, the most important facet influencing the value of real estate is water features. And boy, do Richard and I have wonderful water features.

First, there is Lake Kittytaka. (I know, it is blatant plagiarism, ridiculing not only domestic house cats, but a perfectly wonderful lake it South America). We plan to build a resort on the north shore, taking full advantage of the ample sunshine and unique land formations.

 

And then there is Rio Ricardo. Wow, I know you are all jealous, but try not to be bitter. Amazing water features come with their inherent drawbacks.

It is 4:30AM, we have no running water (inside the house), there is a generator grumbling in the front yard and the water company’s personnel are all have doughnuts and coffee in our driveway (on the shores of Rio Ricardo!)

I pull into the driveway.

It looks like there is crime scene tape highlighting the front yard.

Much like you, my first thought is, “What the hell has Max done this time?”

Turns out it wasn’t a crime scene, but a disaster of domestic water system creation. A little lake, a short river, and some day we may get water service back.

(I joke, we have plenty of water.)

Happy 58th Birthday to Disneyland.

I just want to point out that of my immediate family, spousal unit, siblings and siblings’ spousal units; I am the only one younger than Disneyland.

And yes, this is more than just a maturity issue. I am chronologically younger than all of them, too.

Weekday Update

Today was Richard’s first doctor’s appointment after finishing radiation and chemo.

All-in-all, Richard is doing pretty well. The radiation burns on his chest and back are pretty gruesome looking and a bit painful. The visual of those burns do make me wonder about his esophagus: how bad is it? There are issues with swallowing.

He was very dehydrated today, dehydrated enough that his blood pressure was dangerously low. So, we got to stay so he could have a baggy of water forced into his veins. (There is a more technical term, but I won’t bother you with precision.)

He’s lost a few more pounds. (Don’t worry, I found them. I’ve given them a new home.)

But really, after what he has been through, he’s doing okay. They say it will be another week or two before he really starts to feel better. He has another appointment in two weeks and his “big” re-evaluation appointment is on August 20th. Until then, it will all remain a bit of a mystery.

Could it be that I have found religion?

Thank you, Stephan Pastis

A quick shout out to Auntie Thel

Today would have been my mother's sister's 102 birthday. That is assuming she didn't die on the day she was born.

Thelma is now little more than a tombstone in TumTum, Washington, declaring her the child of Ira McCracken. Obviously, Fannie had little to do with child bearing.

Happy Le Quatorze Juilliet (or Bastille Day.)

Richard and I are so ready to be done with all this crap and retire in a cute little villa in the south of France!

Richard is home.

He seems a little better than he did on Wednesday, but I’m not expecting him to be turning cartwheels down the driveway. Back flips are more his style!

Where there used to be trees.

Is it still called a forest if there is nothing but stumps!

Imagine my surprise

I come home from work to let Trixie out before I run into Portland for Richard and my date night, and three of our trees (near the house they burned down) are gone.

Like you, my first thought was that they were playing hide and seek, but look as I might, I couldn't find them. Then I saw the stumps. They weren't just hiding. They have met a tragic demise.

It must have been the lumber company that owns the land next door, but their office was closed when I tried to contact them.

Over the weekend

Richard and I did have one productive conversation.

I mentioned to him my plan to be a prophet when I grow up. Maybe it is the disease or the treatment, but he seemed oddly unfazed by my idea.

However, he was quick to point out that prophets weren’t known to be wealthy folk. Other than a couple of false prophets, they all died destitute and long before their time.

Okay, I have no problem being a false prophet. Cool by me. Some may worry that it will sully the family name, but from what I see, this family name needs some sullying. Bunch of goody-two-shoes is all I see.

I’ll let you know next time I have a vision, or whatever they’re called.

And no, it wasn't a good weekend.

I can piss and moan at the drop of a hat. Give me half a chance and I will whine and complain until the cows come home. But Richard is different. I don’t understand it, but despite being given ample reasons to grumble about his lot in life, he generally maintains an even keel.

But there were no smiles on Sunday.

A couple of moons ago, Richard’s thoracic surgeon mentioned that doing surgery after radiation treatment was difficult because the procedure fried the tissue and made it very difficult to work with in a surgical setting. I can’t vouch for the inner tissues, but I can tell you the skin around the radiation points (read: chest and back) are red and irritated and generally unfriendly. Richard’s back muscles hurt, so I offered a back rub. Due to federal regulations regarding profanity on the internet, I can’t put his response in print, but let’s just say I retracted my offer and apologized profusely.

Richard’s throat and voice box are also fried. For the most part he can swallow okay, so we aren’t to the point of puréed prime rib, but he is very careful about the foods he eats: no sharp edges, no acidity, no spice, no tofu. And his voice is raspy and his singing range is shot.

Exhaustion is his constant companion. Constipation, with odd little spurts of diarrhea mixed in, is his cohort. He has to force himself to eat and drink. Nothing tastes good and he is bloated. Little tastes strong enough to get over the foul taste in his soul, and if it does you know it is going to {expletive deleted] with his throat. The list of his ailments is so long that my fingers are hurting from typing. (See, I can get this back to being about me. Whine, whine, whine!)

There was a time yesterday when I had the car keys and my hand and was ready to rush him to Hood River Hospital. The two most devastating side effects of chemo are infection and nausea. Richard had a slight fever and was upchucking like there was no tomorrow. I don’t know why I went along with him and let him stay home, but I did. And he survived.

And today was his last chemo treatment. And he has just four more radiation treatments. They warned us today, relief isn’t immediate. It is going to be two or three weeks after everything is done before he starts to truly feel better. But there is light at the end of the tunnel

To the nurses who administered the chemo treatments to Richard, “Thank you!” Kim, Melissa, Kathryn and Heather, you made the unbearable bearable. You are amazing!

Happy 59th Brithday, Knute!

Fifteen years of wedded bliss.

Yesterday was Richard and my 15th Anniversary. Technically the phrase “wedded bliss” is incorrect as we didn’t have a wedding, we had a commitment ceremony. Okay, I hear the chortling and the snorts. And I do fully understand the ironic symbolism of me being committed to (or in) an institution, or something that bears a strong resemblance to an institution. However, I am still going to have to ask you to keep your snide comments to yourself.

Yesterday wasn’t quite as special as our 12th Anniversary, which we spent in Paris. That one is going to be hard to beat. But we did what we could. Richard was very tired, his throat hurt, his skin burned, he had no appetite in part due to an odd metallic taste in his mouth (or as he more appropriately put it, in his body), he frequently broke out in hiccups, he had acid indigestion, his back hurt and he had a general feeling of overpowering malaise. Other than that he was totally fine.

I prepared a very forgettable dinner, unless you remember crunchy rice well into the next decade. It was not my fault. It was obviously inferior quality rice. The blueberry shortcake came out pretty good, however, saving the day.

Here’s to 15 more!

Happy 4th!

I'm off to Portland to see Richard.

Apparently someone didn’t get the memo.

Memo

To: The pets

From: The Masters. Please note that the “M” is capitalized, the “p” is not. We are talking symbolism. We are talking serious stuff.

Date: April 20th, 2013

Re: Sick time

Please be aware that due to one of the two bread winners in the house having an extremely (we are talking nearly-world-record-setting) serious case of carpal tunnel syndrome and the other employed housemate having some medical condition that I’m sure is serious in its own right, but frankly I find it somewhat banal in comparison to the festering wound of a dimension and severity seldom seen outside of the tropics, all pet sick leave has been revoked. You will be on call 24/7 for comforting and general loving domesticated-animalry.

If you feel you are unable to live up to the letter or the spirit of this memo, please feel free to contact Richard or Mac so we can counsel you on your other-house living options.

Oddly, no pet took us up on our counseling option.

You pretend your pets care about you. You pretend that they aren’t calling the grim reaper on their cell phones. But they are. Well, with Max it is kind of a given. I forget the actual lineage, but Max is the second cousin of the devil, once removed, while the grim reaper is a first cousin twice (I think) removed from the devil. So, I think they are 3rd cousins, or something like that.

So, I really have gotten used to the calls from Mephistopheles, Lucifer, Beelzebub, ect… I’m so glad that Max has his own cell phone now. It used to be so awkward telling Satan that Max was too busy to talk with him.

Any now, Spike has a slight bladder infection. I got to take him to the vet and drum roll please, I now get to give him medicine every morning and every night.

Giving a cat bright pink liquid medicine is so much fun. And it is so rewarding. You get to clean 112% of the medicine you tried to give the cat off the walls and ceilings. And you pretend he is going to get better.

Drip, Drip, Drip

Four weeks down, two to go. Two bad weeks, I admit.

But damn, the bald headed geek still looks pretty good to me.

He's gonna kick cancer and win.

150th Anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg

It's a hard thing to define. I want to say that it was a horrible thing. But it helped to end slavery, so was it really horrible?

I'm thinking it can still be called horrible, even though it had good results.

Although I'm saying that as an individual right now, I'm pretty sure that when I retire and become a prophet, I will agree.

War is not good.