So guess where I am? Seriously, go ahead and guess. If you said prison, you wouldn’t be too far off. I am back in Houston at MDAnderson with the two wicked step-sisters. You would think they would be so thankful at my willingness to give up all my vacation time for them. Then there is the eight hour drive south not to mention dealing with the maniac drivers trying to kill me because 80 mph is obviously not fast enough in the middle lane. I suppose there is no better way to show you their extent of gratefulness than to post actual conversations from Cell Block C.
Kelly, sobbing pitifully this morning as Char and I were helping her out of the shower, drying her off, getting her into her wheelchair:
“I….(sob, sob)…..I bet you two never thought you would have to do this for me…..(sob, sob, sob)”
“Well, I always figured I would be doing this…..for Char…..in the very near future, considering her age and all.”
This seems to be Char’s new go-to word. Idiot. How original, I mean, for an old person and all.
Then there was last night when Kelly started sobbing, hoping to die in bed in the arms of her beloved. I asked if her husband David knew about being replaced by someone named beloved. I was called names and on and on followed by this little gem:
“Well, Kel, I understand even if our idiot sister doesn’t. I want to die in my sleep”, says Char in her best all-knowing, I am the oldest sister sort of way.
So, says I, “I can respect you wanting to die in your sleep. I’d be happy to make that happen for you both later this evening.”
I cannot repeat the new name Char came up with to replace idiot. I will say this; who knew the old bat could be so linguistically creative.
Of course, we always have to have the hair and makeup conversations when we are together too.
“Hey you guys, will one of you please trim my hair?”
“Trim your hair? What’s wrong with your hair?”
“I just got it cut and she did a really bad job. I need you or Char to fix it, ok?”
At this point, the two princess imposters are looking over my hair and decide it looks fine.
“Listen you two, have you ever known me to care a lick about how my hair looks. If I say it’s bad, I mean….”
“Char, she has a point. We must just be use to that look on her. Get the scissors.”
Anyway, that’s about all there is until later. Kelly is going through poking, prodding, CT Scans and MRIs. We have seen the internal medicine doctor already and will finish up on Thursday with the Oncologists and Surgeons. Kel is hoping for surgery to get the baseball size tumor protruding from the back of her head whacked off. I am hoping for a better haircut before then.
Love hopes all things.