Yes, the big day has arrived. I was up at my usual 4am in answer to my need for caffeine reuptake. (We all have our addictions!) By 7 I was back in bed for a nap knowing that Ron wouldn't probably call until around 11. I awoke at 10 and staggered out into the dining room. He'd just called Johnny five minutes earlier because I wasn't answering my phone. So, I called him and asked if was sitting on his suitcase on the curb of The Foss Home. His response was, "GET ME THE HELL OUTA HERE!"
We got there by noon, signed papers and said goodby to all the friends he'd made. He got applause from the residents in the lunch room. The social worker, Cathy Bates no less, is a saint and has a great love for those of us of an alternative gender identity....shall we say. I have to admit that my ankles hurt ever time I hear her name.
We then headed for the Varsity Inn for lunch. It was old home week there. Patty, the manager, is on the email list and it was so good for Ron to see her. He ordered a mushroom burger but, as usual with those of a Semitic heritage - there were all sorts of things like, "I want the tomato grilled. Oh, wait, maybe not. Yeah, I DO want the tomato grilled." Johnny was rolling his eyes and I was making fun of him.
Then we trekked up to Kaiser to the pharmacy to pick up the meds. While we were waiting, we strolled 15th Avenue East, wandered through a natural foods etc store where the picture was taken, went back, picked up the meds and went home.
The news from Cathy Bates (ankles tingling!) was that things don't look real great. This kind of cancer is rarely curable and time is relatively short. Of course, this gives a different definition of the term "hope." In some respects it becomes "making the best of whatever time is left." At the same time, there are reports of people responding well to the treatments and going on to lead long, productive lives. So, as Ron and I talked about last night, we just don't know. And that has to be OK. I mean, what other choices do we have?
On a personal level, which I guess this blog really is, the one thing of which I have no doubt is that in the end all will be well. What I DO know is that I have a choice: I can either have a pity party or make lemonade. Most of the time, I'm doing the latter. Neither do I have a need to blame God for all this. Nature works in her own manner. I guess, like most good Anglicans, I'm somewhat of a Deist when it comes to these things. The tumor may be the result of something generations and centuries ago passed down and finally manifest. It's not something that some diety decided to do. God isn't that small neither does S/H e work that way. Instead, S/He dwells within us and if we choose to tap into It we receive the power and courage to move into the future knowing that we're not alone and that in the end all will be well.
It may seem odd for a priest to say, but whatever comes after this life is anyone's guess. Our Blessed Lord is blessedly vague on the matter. What the hell does, "In my Father's house are many mansions" mean anyway? He coulda been a BIT more concrete. And while it points to the fact that for him the afterlife is either a given and/or inconsequential, it also points to the importance of life on this side of the River Styx. The point I'm trying to make is that in the end Ron (and we!) will be fine. It's the getting there that might be an arduous journey.
Hope you have a great day. It's supposed to be "hotter than cat fat" today as my Nana used
Oh, and from Brian Evans in Minnesota comes the following which made me laugh. Remember, we have to keep laughing and enjoying life while it lasts. It's what life is all about.
Peace.
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