[Before proceeding, it might be useful to visit my new visuals page . . . "the view from here" which shall be a 1st person photo gallery of the many sights and experiences you too can enjoy for the low, low price of nothing.]
On Thursday night of last week, as I lay dying (I add this clause, not for its accuracy but for its being the title of my favorite Faulkner novel and even if it were not my favorite Faulkner novel, it would still be my favorite of his novels' titles . . . but this is not pertinent information unless I add that, accuracy notwithstanding, I felt like I was dying) on the guest bed where I had retired for the relative coolness of the room (fahrenheit-wise not George Clinton-wise), clutching a stuffed dog which in turn was clutching a stuffed heart with the word "HUGS" stitched into it, I asked the stuffed dog (because that seemed more sane than asking the four walls . . . at the time) how much longer it thought I might be, if not dying altogether, so far under the weather, upon which the stuffed animal supplied no reply. Let it be said to my credit that this came as no surprise. That a stuffed dog should speak is an absurd notion let alone that it should possess the level of sentience required to even compute the question.
So I asked the four walls. Did any of them know how much longer the chemo's nauseating effects would last? It had been 2 nights since my last dose, didn't they know? They did not know. At least, I gathered as much from their silence.
Being done with dumb objects, I simply told them instead, "I need to make note of how long it takes before the sickness wears down. For next time. So I'll know."
Then I pulled the dog into my chest and watched the four walls until sleep came. On Friday morning, I felt better. On Friday night, not so great but no longer dying in my imagination. On Saturday, I went to the zoo.
So a week. This time, at least. Probably next month it'll take little longer but it helps to have a ball park figure--a focal point for woozy eyes, an horizon for storm-battered bows.
Car ride from Mobile to Birmingham [fuel, slim jims, mountain dew]: $40.
Bus ride from Mobile to Birmingham [fare, paperback novel, pepper-spray] : $60.
Train ride from Mobile to Birmingham: No longer available.
Airplane ride from Mobile to Birmingham [ticket, fees, replacing disallowed carry-ons]: $500.
Ambulance ride from Mobile to Birmingham [fuel, IV fluids, tapering encouragement]: $3700
Temodar might cause constipation.
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