And then I had to beat feet FAST – make good my escape.
It was gonna be tight. I drove off (in an ancient station wagon, hauling a wee trailer)…where?! I woke, still in the throes of this crazyosity, wondering where I could go and be safe. I was panicked that I didn’t have fake ID and utterly freaked about getting caught and going to jail.
Which, naturally, leads to a song. Doesn’t everything in life?
Wednesday I saw the mouth physical therapist. I’ve a few exercises that I need to do twice daily. Consistently! This includes deep breathing drills because, apparently, I’m viciously tense. Gee…RILLY!? Relaxing, it would seem, will help me regain my embouchure. Huh. K. This won’t happen instantly. This is a journey. There are no magic pills *sigh* I’ll see Mara again in a month.
And yesterday was my annual with the neuro-op. RIGHT before I was called in, I had the beginning of a text exchange with a man I’d once and for a long time, considered a brother-in-arms. For years and years, we hung out together on the mega regular. That ended, abruptly-ish, after he began dating the woman who became his wife. I always knew he’d, likely, vanish after he met THE ONE. It’s just how he was – he became a part of the woman he was involved with – her life became his. His was only hers.
Though this was expected, I was very sad to be DQed, to lose his friendship, the camaraderie.
We eventually became tangentially connected on ShoutyFace. This is where I saw, just yesterday, a cryptic post of his along with a bunch of ominous comments from his chums. There were posts proclaiming love, prayers and support. Looked like, mebbe, Geo had more going on than just a bad summer cold.
I texted him, totally not expecting an answer. He replied. I was stunned. Even more so when he said that he has stage four bladder cancer. He was diagnosed the month after my totally Amazing Bob shuffled off this mortal coil. Geo's been fighting ever since. Things don’t look good – shit's spreading. He begins yet another round of chemo on Monday.
What do you say to an old friend, someone you haven’t been close with in 15 years, someone who pushed you away? What to say when the bomb drops?
I said that I was happy he has Chrissy and her family. Happy that they have that glorious weekend house, high on a mountain in New Hampshire. Beauty helps ease pain, I said. He allowed that they’re unable to get up there much now. I invited him and Chrissy to come spend a day or more down here, sitting on the seawall – wave gazing. The ocean is calming – a powerful, gorgeous balm.
He didn't say no but, in so many words, he said no.
I doubt I'll see him again.