April 18, 2010 – Pushing the limits

Friday was the test drive for the taste buds.  Last night, I pressed the accelerator to the floor hard enough to feel the skin on my cheeks peel back.  Ok, that’s an exaggeration.  That’s how I used to feel driving my 1972 Mustang Fastback with a 302-2V featuring twin Holley carburetors.  I guess the reason that analogy popped into my head was a conversation about our kids driving to and from college/work in distant cities and how it seemed too long a haul.  When I was living in St. Louis in the early 1970’s, I made the drive to Worcester in about 21 hours, timing my arrival at The Boulevard Diner for around 3:00 am.  After a salad, veal parm with penne, a piece of Table Talk Boston Crème Pie, and a few cups of coffee, I’d wander home to collapse and sleep into the next afternoon.  No, I was not a vegan then.  Though a part of me yearned to be a vegetarian, but didn’t have a clue how to get there.  Besides, St. Louis had too many (or not enough) Steak ‘n Shake drive-ins.

Yesterday was a special day.  Ann & I took it easy most of the morning and early afternoon, doing a few chores, taking a couple of naps, watching a little TV (home improvement shows on HGTV), playing on the computer, and reading.  I finished Lori Lansens’ The Girls (highly recommended) and started Karl Mariantes’ Matterhorn, both on the Kindle (loving the Kindle!)

Around 3:00 pm, Cousins Alan & Arlene arrived for a visit.  I can’t write this too often, so here goes.  Arlene has been a rock and inspiration to me during the cancer experience, from diagnosis to treatment.  She’s fought the beast three times over three decades.  Arlene is one of the sweetest people I know, but also one of the toughest.  I lean on her experience and try my best to emulate her positive attitude towards life’s challenges.  We email daily and talk on the phone weekly.  She is still recovering from her last bout with cancer, but always puts the focus on me.

We traded treatment stories and caught up on health details.  Then, we reached into the rich trove of family stories.  Arlene & I are the children of two of three brothers.  The three were each other’s best friends.  Many of my happiest childhood memories revolve around the interaction of the brothers.  Their patter during card games was dicey and priceless.  I grew up with my cousins; we spent lots of days as one family and the ties run deep and true.  Near the end of the visit, we listed our favorite movies and found almost an absolute overlap.  We go for the off-kilter comedies.  It was a funny and fitting conclusion.

Ann & I caught our breathe for an hour and then Larry & Lora arrived to pick us up for our evening dinner plans.  As I wrote yesterday, lifelong friends are special and to be cherished.  Larry & I grew up together.  Our parents were close friends before they were married.  The memories go back as far as memories go.  Like our parents, we’ve raised our children together from infants to adults.

We headed out to Bertucci’s in The Solomon Pond Mall in nearby Berlin and met up with Cousin Betsy who drove in from the other direction.  Truth be told, Betsy & I are not exactly related but we’ve decided that we are cousins, so that’s all that matters.  Betsy just finished treatment for cancer, her second bout with the microcellular beast.  Betsy started treatment well before me, but we’ve overlapped the joys of chemo, tests, and being poked and prodded.  She’s been with me all the way, emailing suggestions and perspectives on dealing with cancer.  We traded stories about our treatments and how we leave modesty far behind once in the milieu of hospitals.  As we went through chemo and lost our “normal” taste buds, we wrote about meeting for dinner one day and being able to enjoy our meals.  It once seemed so far away, but here were today munching on Bertucci’s outstanding rolls.  Betsy has been a real friend & cousin, a fellow traveler on this difficult path.  We could blow off steam and laugh about the disease.  I often expect too much of myself in dealing with the side effects of chemo and Betsy has been really helpful in telling me to rein that in, to be more gentle with myself.  There were times I really needed to hear that.

Dinner, wasn’t that the starting point of today’s post?  I had a salad with balsamic vinaigrette, three rolls, and three quarters of a pizza with no cheese topped with spinach, portabella mushrooms, and caramelized onions.  I was ready to stop at half a pizza, but my body urged me on.  In the pre-cancer days, I would have downed the whole pizza, but a guy’s gotta work himself back into shape, right?  But I could feel that skin on my cheeks peeling back or maybe it was just the garlic.

If I’d been able to see Laura today, I would have been in the company of all three fellow travelers on this road of cancer treatment.  Laura, a friend from college days, lives outside of St. Louis, so that would have been a bit of a trick.  Laura does a real good job of hitting me upside the head when I really need it.  That’s what friends are for.

Dan arrived around noon today (just after my 12 minute LifeCycle ride.)  We’ve been sitting around, taking it easy, playing with the pups, and watching a few episodes of “Big Bang Theory” and “Modern Family.”  I really appreciate his weekly visits.  He’s been wonderful and helpful all through my treatment.  When we really need a hand, Dan’s always here.

Tomorrow is a busy day.  We have five appointments at Dana Farber (radiation, radiologist, blood drawing, oncologist, chemo infusion) starting at 8:40 am.  The drives in and back will be interesting.  Tomorrow is Patriots’ Day, a Massachusetts holiday, and the day of The Boston Marathon.  Our normal route will be blocked by the marathon, so we’ll try to sneak into Boston via Route 9.  Some people have Patriots’ Day as a holiday (I never have), so the traffic might be lighter. Then again, there will be thousands of people going into Boston to watch the event.  We’ll leave a little earlier and hope our alternate route works.

Thanks everyone for your support and wishes.  I feel connected to you all and never alone.

Love…

Richard