Looking for old movies…found this triumph. I had a heart attack, 100 percent blockage of the left ventricle, about four years ago or so. Cardiac ICU, stent, all that crap. We took this challenge at my behest. I forgot this video even existed; it shows the power of human will. Shall we all climb together?
Doug had his two hour meeting with the “finance people” and a nurse today. Chemotherapy doesn’t start yet; we thought it was going to be tomorrow, but tomorrow is more scheduling and planning of all his nearly draconian treatments. He might lose his hair they said, he’s only got 500 bucks left on his deductible so it sounds like
a tax refund will cover the bill! He tried to tell me the two hours of stuff that he heard but I only remember four words—I count them as four because I’m not sure if the contraction “It’ll” is grammatically correct. Is “it’ll” one word or two? I only now and probably will only remember four words for the rest of my life.
When Doug asked: “How will I know the cancer is gone? Do they do another CT scan or how do I find out?”
The nurse said, and she did say it twice: “It’ll be gone–It’ll be gone.”
The only thing I can say or think is: “It’ll be gone.”
The day was gray. Mist hung in the air, painting goosebumps on my face. I looked out over the brownscape, remnants of dying trees covered mohair grass which was patiently waiting for a day of longer sunshine. I blinked three times hoping the scene might instantly change but the mist repainted the same picture in an instant. My breaths were short and shallow, keeping my eyelids barely pumped up enough to squint at a distant triangle of mournfully honking geese who were headed east; they didn’t seem to know where they were going. My belly rubbed against the rough inside of my sweater with each shallow breath, reminding me that Winter planned on staying for a while. I struggled to imagine red tulips.
A stray dog entered the scene. Jumpy squirrels scattered in a blur of gray fur. The black dog relieved himself on my lawn. My eyes widened just enough to let the cold mist sprinkle them before releasing back into a squint. I was too weak to chase the dog away, just barely had enough strength to imagine myself stepping in his unwanted gift when Spring comes; it would lay there frozen over months until spring thaw softened it enough to wedge in the treads of my tennis shoes. I took a deep breath as my heart skipped.
Why couldn’t there be a rip in the gray blanket of sky which was holding me down?