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Sunday, March 29, 2015

How Can You Tell

How can you tell you’ve been married, all these decades, to your soul mate?

1) Upon exiting Chemo Land, after a long day of doc visits and infusions, we simultaneously broke out in Tomorrow from the musical Annie. Now, neither of us are now or have ever been fans of Broadway musicals. Never. Ever. Not in this lifetime or the next. So then, 'the fuck? Got us hangin'. Possibly, at the core of our beings, we're actually bright, shiny, Pollyannas. Nah.

Just thinkin' about
Clears away the cobwebs,
And the sorrow
'Til there's none!

When I'm stuck a day
That's gray,
And lonely,
I just stick out my chin
And Grin,  And Say,

The sun'll come out
So ya gotta hang on
'Til tomorrow
Come what may
Tomorrow! Tomorrow!
I love ya Tomorrow!
You're always
A day
A way

Yep, you can bet your bottom dollar.
2) As we road down the elevator in the Bigelow building of MGH yesterday, almost 24 hours after being ambulanced in to the ER, we turned to each other and, in concert,  uttered one word. Cake.

We’d hit Saint Fratelli’s on Friday morning to pick up some YEA, Chemo’s Working! celebratory pastry. There was still half of that yellow and blue pastel butter cream rose festooned beauty left and, boyhowdy, we were having dessert before dinner last night.

And we did.

How do we pass the long hours, the endless hurry-up-and-wait of our hospital days? I take walks, exploring odd, old corners found within the mobius strip-like corridors. TAB demonstrates the different ways to hold the ball if you want to, fer instance, throw a knuckle ball. We read. We nap. I people watch, offering up my usual mix of acerbic and/or appreciative commentary. Gotta say, the MGH ER has some awesome folkscopin’. We play scrabble. We breathe deeply in our attempts to meditate and release stress. Sometimes that even works too.

And we dream of cake.

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