Letting off steam

We had our friend visit again. The one who brings his own mask, doesn’t touch anything at all, and I think does not even exhale.
We had a great visit talking about many things as if we were sitting round a dining table, rather than on hospital beds and vinyl furniture.
I shared with him how it is an odd feeling to wake in the morning to 2 or 3 voices. I’m never fully rested, but I’m awake. To wake with people in their work clothes doing their work thing in your bedroom makes one feel almost infant like. I open one eye, Dom’s looking at me stirring. I open both eyes and ask him how he feels. “Good morning” I hear from the end of his bed or behind the computer. Actually, I don’t feel infantile. I feel royal. Or at least some Hollywood version of old royalty where they had attendants ready to jump as soon as they awoke.
Our friend laughed as I shared that I have coffee in my hand before my feet even touch the floor.
Lest you think I’m getting too big for my britches, it’s a steep price to pay.
But we laugh at it all. We laugh with his sister on FaceTime that we have a wired remote for the TV, lights, and a big red button to call for jello all night long.

These past few days have been really good. The calm before the next storm. We do watch the numbers on the white board. We’re seeing the patterns and can better anticipate when he’ll be hooked up or be free.

He and I are very conscientious at home. We eat leftovers regularly and rarely find ourselves throwing away any food. In the thick of it here, Dom was really struggling to eat. As you all hear regarding chemo, I’m sure. So, in his wisdom and humility, (make that just humility), decided he only would have breakfast and dinner delivered. So, naturally, the next day he had a massive appetite. Lesson learned. Bring all the meals. You just have to let go of some of the things. Now is not the time we’re going to worry about being wasteful people. Sorry planet. We do our best most of the time.

We learned when the phone rings in our room, it is actually for us. We just sat here staring at the phone ringing wondering who could be calling us, surely it was a mistake. The nurse came in to let us know the kitchen was ringing us. They were perplexed as to why Dominic had ordered just watermelon and mustard. As were we. I guess somewhere along the line they dropped the sandwich. It gives me confidence in the kitchen that they realize mustard and watermelon are just not a thing. Yet. You crazy foodies.

We had the funniest nurse yesterday. She had a thick accent I struggled with, but Dom had no problem. As per usual, Dom was her refuge. She’d appear randomly in the day giggling like mad telling us about her other patients that were grumping at her. You don’t know me, they’d say. You don’t know all the things. I know more, they’d say, resisting treatments and instruction. High drama around here. They did not like to be told they were confused. I guess our nurse today has the same patient load because I heard her saying to another in the hall that two of her patients are confused, so if she sees anyone wandering aimlessly in the hallway to let her know. One of yesterday’s patients actually unhooked his lines and took off.
Of course it’s serious and sad business. But nurses gotta let off steam too, so for now, we’re the safe room, the fun room. I’m sure on the days the chemo wreaks its havoc, they’ll mostly know to simmer down. Except maybe Terry. But we haven’t seen him in days. And this mama bear found her footing.

Our weekend Doctor just came by. He’s from Lebanon. He and Dom talked about accents. The Doctor has tried to curb his accent, but cannot, so Dom generously said, well, it’s a second language for you. No, it’s the fifth. He speaks five languages. And is a doctor. And….from what I gather from the gossip, his family is filthy rich. This is not work for him. It’s his vocation.
All that money though, and he’s jealous of Dom’s hair.

And so that is life.