Most days are pretty good, but nausea has been closing in, slowly, day by day, mostly in the background—until this morning, when it arrived, full frontal.
I woke up feeling like something that was dragged around town in a sack behind an old Chevy. I could barely function.
Wasn't sure if Nikki, my housekeeper, was gonna show up—went ahead and boldly took a shower anyway. It was all I could do to stand there, dry myself off, drag myself down the hall.
Nikki showed up around 9:00 I guess—but I hadn’t noticed. I just wandered back into the kitchen area, nearly blind from dizziness and low blood sugar. I very nearly fell on my ass.
But Nikki was there, saw the whole thing. She looked worried. "What's up?" she seemed to say.
“I don’t know why I’m so messed up this morning,” I said. I stumbled toward the refrigerator for something wet.
“Good morning,” I said.
 |
| The boy, hangin' by the old water tower |
"Gotta get my act together here," I muttered.
Wobbled out the door, and started the car. Driving to Irvine. A highly dubious project.
“Why don’t you cancel!” yelled Nikki.
Nope. Gonna do this thing. Nobody can stop me now.
Stubborn; stupid. I do that.
Got to Dr. D's in Irvine all right and went through the hideous gauntlet: eyes poked and prodded and shined into, talked at, prescription written, glasses chosen, consulted with Dr. Dusenberg (or whatever his name is, I dunno anymore). It was pretty tedious, but I was civil. Felt like shit on a stick. Smiled pleasantly, mostly. Hoped for it to all to end, but it dragged on.
I finally got out of there, and squeezed myself into my little Lexus under the trees, by the fake lake. Alas, I was blinded by the infernal eye drops and sunlight. My vision was so bad, I pulled into Karl's just to get my bearings. Got some French Fries. Waited. My vision only got worse.
Had to mail that WEX payment. Drove to the post office (just down the street, on Sand Canyon); could barely see the damned building. Opened the door for some lady carrying boxes. Managed to drive home in one piece before noon. I reached my goal! I'm done!
"So now you're gonna crash?" asked/asserted Nikki as I shuffled past her and off to my bed. "Yeah," I said. "I'm done."
Teddy (my cat) followed. He complained like he does. Lights out.
Just woke up. It’s 2:30. Nikki’s gone, I guess. Still feel like warmed over roadkill, but a little better.
Checked my blood pressure: perfect. Don’t seem to be dying or anything.
Sister Annie's parked outside in her Toyota using my Wifi (that's been goin' on for weeks; I hate AT&T).
Teddy’s sleeping in Sunny's old spot [former cat] way in the back room. I guess he decided not to sleep with his old dad, that unpleasant lump.
Feeling a bit better, I just went back to sleep.
It's not so bad. It'll do.
Just one bad diner along the long Chemo Highway. The one bad stop.
All is well then!
John Sturges was hired as director in June 1954 and shooting began the following month near Lone Pine, California, where the small town set had been quickly constructed. (Wikipedia)
