What A Difference A Day Makes, 24 Little Hours 

Cause childish habits are slow to die
You might look up and wonder why
Things snowball, things snowball, things snowball
In the twinkling of an eye

--John Wesley Harding

One day without drama. One.  Anybody have that for me? As I sit in the passenger seat of this car, waiting for the student driver to finish her 3 hour class, I ask, is there ever the possibility of a day without cortisol overload?

Jenny was walking around the neighborhood with me yesterday looking like Vinnie "The Chin" Gigante back in the 1990s.  That is, back when he was shuffling around in his robe and pajamas all over Little Italy trying to fool the FBI into believing he couldn't be the boss of the Genovese crime family because he was non compos mentis.  The difference, of course, is Jenny was not faking it with the impaired gait.

The Sick Child, 1907
Edvard Munch

Which brings us to today.  Jenny had a helluva time getting up again this morning, but I was relentless in getting her moving and out of the house by 815, because she had a coffee date with her sisters in Ballard.  Why they didn't arrange to meet.  .  . I dont know.  .  . near the cancer patient's house? Well ya got me, I don't know.  Honestly, I don't typically worry about Jennifer's calendar, but I knew she planned on going to Mt. Hood later today with Leiney, and wanted Jenny alive, alert, awake and enthusiastic before they hit the road.

I was working upstairs when she got home around 10:30 a.m. and crashed on the couch, exhausted from her morning foray. They did manage to leave, albeit a bit later than the originally planned 12:30 p.m. departure time, and arrived at the mountain around 6:45, without incident.

About then, I called Jenny to check on them, paranoid that I am, and she answered briefly telling me she was rushing to the bathroom.  She texted me a bit thereafter complaining of abdominal pain and other symptoms, so bad she took an oxycodone. She said she was worried.  I too expressed concern.

I suggested to her in response that it would be a good idea going forward to make sure there is a third person with her should she travel with the kids.  If some unexpected emergency happened, like the sudden development of deep vein thrombosis, as is fairly common in this disease, and Jenny needed urgent medical care, I would not want the kids dealing with it. I suggested this to Jenny.  And, we were off to the races. 

She told me she needs to have freedom, I, concurred, telling her I am not concerned about her, these are decisions (to travel) that she should have the right to make. I went so far as to tell her that she isn't my primary concern, but the kids are.  I don't want one of them stuck alone with her should something go wrong.  The guilt, as misplaced as it would be, nevertheless would be crushing.  Jenny, who is on the mountain tonight, reassured me that there is ambulance service there.  Again, it is not my concern the mode of transport that is available.  I don't want my kids with that burden.

709 a.m. Tuesday 

The good news is Jenny agrees that going into the wilderness would require another adult.  However,  being at Mt. Hood isn't the wilderness. Also, she believes we should have a discussion with the kids. I simply responded, o.k.

I have a couple of thoughts.  One, I realize bunking at the Best Western isn't the same as hiking out on the PCT.  The same concern I raised before still exists. 

Two, I am not sure what the discussion with the kids would be.  Don't feel guilty if I have a major medical emergency and possibly die while we are alone, far from healthcare?  Call me a pessimist, but that seems unlikely to work.

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