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Thursday, May 12, 2022

Day 22

I thought it’d be nice to go for a little drive around Boston after my proton session yesterday morning. I figured we could look at some cool trees. Yes, this was a good idea BUT between NO available parking in the Back Bay, me not being physically stable enough to manage walking on uneven ground (a park in Brookline with awesome trees) AND the fact that I’ve forgotten how to drive around Boston’s wonk-ass roads, we ended up lost. Mind you, Boston’s a small city—how lost could we get? 

Yesterday along Comm Ave

I'll tell you—we somehow ended up a couple towns north in Revere (which, by the by, is most def not a cute New England beach town). Let me just tell you, we managed to hit every pothole in existence between here, there and back again. Spine jarringly nasty? Bien sûr times ten, good buddies!

Ya know what though? It was still less painful and annoying than the daily slog from Valhalla to MGH. Next time I gotta go through this, I’m seriously gonna consider getting a short term rental for the full six or so weeks. Once I’ve built up my walking stamina (where I can do more than half a mile a day), a month+ in town would be okay—maybe even fun. Ten and I could wander around the North and South Ends, do a tour of Cambridge bookstores, stroll Newbury Street and lay about in the Public Garden.

Having said that—in just these few days away from home—I seriously miss my patch of ocean, Jen, Oni. Skitter, all the visitor cats AND my own goddamn rain room. FWIW, after this morning's session I have a piddling THREE to go. Next Tuesday is my last, for now, protonization.

This afternoon I’ve an appointment with my good neurologist, Doc Plotkin. I’ll get the results of Tuesday’s CT scan. Is it time to slice out or irradiate the fat, asshole meningioma that’s obnoxiously parked over my frontal lobe? If so, how soon? Can I have a little post-proton fucking down time? Mebbe enjoy a summer off and continue (or even finish) the fucking rehab from that mobility thieving surgery of March ’21 (which was interrupted by October ’21’s spine op)? Gee, a break would be wicked swell, eh?

It’s overcast and foggy here in Cambridge this morning. If the rain holds off, maybe—post-protoning, Ten and I can go for a wee walk down Charles Street, poke into an antique shop or two. Later, depending on Plotkin’s afternoon edict, I’ll be needing some quality, fortifying pizza and vino. Hell, even if the news is good, I’ll want ‘za and the grape. Good news means it’ll be a celebratory versus soothing indulgence.

A gorgeous, giant tree in Brookline

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