This calls for serious battening down of hatches. Yes, I’m talkin' storm panic shopping. The Amazing Bob will need cookie baking supplies. Coco and Rocco will need a week’s supply of Fancy Feast and tuna. We’ll need rock salt, Chianti and WASABI PEAS, fer fuck’s sake!
What’s that you say? I have all that in house already? It's left over from this past, distinctly blizzard-free, winter?
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| what I'm anticipating |
Naturally TAB and I, bright and fucking early tomorrow, need to motor through the white, wet stuff to get to MGH for a CAT scan. This is to see if that spot the docs saw near (not on or in but near) his pancreas is a reappearance of cancer – lymphoma. This is important. We’ve been on edge since the end of January when the good docs first noticed the little blip. There’ll be no postponing the test.
We’ll get results on Thursday morning when we're in for his booster shot (not chemo but some additional cancer-be-gone meds). I’ve scheduled Susan the awesome ‘terps services so’s I don’t miss a word. Nervous? Me? YOU BETCHA!
The snow will have melted by then. That’s the fab bit about these late winter/early spring snows. The drifts don’t hang around long enough to become ugly and enduringly annoying.
Four Seasons op.8, Spring : Allegro – Vivaldi (Violin : Itzhak Perlman)
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