Saturday, May 04, 2013
5/4/2013 6:58 PM
If you couldn't hear the neighborhood, or if you could subtract
the motor noises and the urgent human utterances, the calling and squealing across
the yards, and left in the birds chirping (it’s too early for the wood frogs), it
would be a lovely evening. Makes a nice
picture, though, a still life. The air is
perfect, a rare occurence. It’s still a
lovely evening. Has to be.
Sutent is doing its trip alright. Even my eyelashes look bleached and
singed. But it was much worse last
time. I’m sure the proximity to
Temsirolimus made everything worse then.
I’m supposed to take my own blood viscosity measurements
now. And it took me 4 tries. And that means using four sophisticated
strips (and four holes in my fingers) so the Alere folk have to call me and
offer more training; I've already explained that I think I’ll get it right next
time, but they've called back: maybe I should have some more training. Problem is I don’t need to take the
measurement for at least a week now and they might send someone over
again. Either way, they are going to make
sure I am encouraged to get it right.
It feels strange to be here, in Kitsap, in the neighborhood,
strange, though sometimes I’m happy to be here.
I used to work and come home to sleep or recuperate. Now my waking time, these lovely spring days,
are in Kitsap. I’m beginning to feel
like I live here.
Even if the dogs and humans and their machines all went on
mute, I’d still hear my ears ringing.
Had ‘em checked out: all’s well
and there not a thing we can do for you. What a strange and marvelous world.
