Navigating our lives in the time of COVID-19 and pancreatic cancer. If nothing else, I created one hell of a playlist.
Free Falling
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The only way I would jump out of a plane is if both the plane and I were on fire, let's be clear. At least ChatGPT kept it real by leaving me in my work clothes.
Three days was the morning My focus three days old My head, it landed To the sounds of cricket bows 3 Days Gone I really couldn't have hoped for a better Christmas holiday, with both girls and I celebrating multiple times. We went to the Central Cinema twice--once for the Muppet Christmas Carol which, bluntly put, is sacrilege to the memory of all I hold holy around the bourgeois Dickens story. I own the Reginald Owen, Alistar Sims, George C. Scott, a couple of cartoon versions, but not the Mr. Magoo version (it must exist, right?). All have one Marley. None have Rizzo the Rat accompanying a Gonzo as Dickens to provide exposition. Call me a purist. I own a very old copy of the story itself--not quite a novel in length-that I bought when my mother was dying in hospital back in 2008. I have never gotten through the first stave, praise the lord of ADHD. Anyhow, Christmas has been an utter delight. We dutifully watched Charlie Brown's Christmas, played board games together--a firs...
It Hurts, It Hurts So Bad. . . 3:44 a.m. I walked in the door last night at just before 10 to find Jenny in a ball on the floor--between the giant ottoman and sectional--agonizing pain in her hip. I had ridden to acting with the student driver. But, let's back up. Jenny had chemo yesterday. Her friend Jennifer took her. It was uneventful and she received chemo. I, as always, prepared the house for her arrival to make sure she wanted for nothing and would be comfortable as she endures the aftermath of all that poison. Sometime before she came home, she texted, saying the doctor suggested she try Aleve for her hip pain. Aleve. She asked me to pick some up for her while Abby was at acting. During the text exchange I realized she would be alone after Abby and I left for acting. Leiney was elsewhere and had therapy at 5 and kickboxing later, and her sister Moni had bailed on chemo because she had so much to do (Wit...
Jenny has cancer. Terminal cancer. We learned that in late July. Jenny had dropped 25 lbs. in the spring without trying. She had been having vague stomach complaints since October. As a balm for her concerns, her doctor agreed to do a CT scan for her, but told her they would find nothing. Jenny wanted to rule out pancreatic cancer, which had recently killed her dad-in the spring of 2019. Her mother had been sick with lymphoma since February 2020. The day of the scan, the doctor told Jenny they would get results back in a few days. When Jenny's phone rang that same afternoon, I was in the living room with Abby, where I was torturing her by playing the Rapping Duke on Youtube. Jenny shouted from the room, "Geoff, get in here, the doctor's on the phone." "You have a four cm. mass on your pancreas," he said. Jenny made a sound like someone had punched her in the stomach. "There is a spot on your liver. You have a necrotic lymph nod...
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