My rehab boy Dick phoned yesterday. The news was not good. After an X-ray, the cancer growing on the outside of his lung had not shown any change after the long run of radiation. The doctors did not feel he was strong enough for chemotherapy nor surgery to remove the growth. The news broke my heart. He sounded so defeated and weak. I sent a card to him yesterday and will keep in close touch with him.
By noon yesterday, my to-do list was done, groceries were put away and I even was able to take a short nap. The orchestra rehearsal was fun and I got home late and tired. Today, the pulmonary function test is the focus. But, before I go into the city later this morning, I need to be out of here by 9AM for the housekeepers. It is going to be a race: shower, dress, final pick up. While out in town, I need to do a bank run, visit the gas station, enjoy a cup of coffee at Peet's then check-in back at the house to make sure all the lights are off before heading north into the city for the PFTs. A long day and I am beginning to drag from the past few days.
My concern is tomorrow. I will be spending most of the day with mom then performing with the Irish Fiddling group from 5-7PM. Two hours. I feel like I am heading into it worn down and I don't want to get sick.
What I am really looking forward to is Saturday morning when I am meeting a former student for brunch near Stanford. We were not able to connect over the Christmas holiday and I just want to get caught up with him. He is so interesting and tales of his studies and work are fascinating.
Sunday? Nothing. Simply nothing. A day to catch my breath.