That’s Why It’s Unseasonably Warm!

(It is currently 72' F on November 24th!)

Tequila shelves.

The long-planned visit to Dos Locos finally happened, though it’s hard to  believe.  Nicole picked me up on her way to work around 2:45 yesterday. She was as excited as I was. It was a good time, wonderful to chat with the Locosguys - who are in great shape and looking svelte for their upcoming holiday trip to beaches of Mexico. Owning a successful business in a beach resort means you seldom get to see your own beach, so I am cheering them on.  I think I may have convinced them to turn off the cell phones, but time will tell. They leave on Saturday.

Super conversations with the staff; the Golden Margaritas (two) went down easily. Being football Sunday there were a lot of customers to come by and say “hello” and ply me with drinks. Truth must be told, Joe (a Locosguy) didn’t force upon me a shot of a new Tequila from Patron which is made the old fashioned way (whatever that is) and I have to say it was the smoothest alcoholic beverage ever to pass my lips. Smooth and it didn’t knock me for a loop, either.

With Jeffrey.

After their shifts, Jeffery joined me - along with Frankie, Juan, Nicole, and Bahram for the second margarita. To my great relief, neither Jeffrey nor Nicole had shared personal information about my illness, current healthcare or their places in it.  Leaving that one of those not-to-discuss topics for the afternoon. 

As Joe knew I wouldn’t be staying long, the old Mother in him decided that I needed supper.  So, as he ordered my take-out (a Duck Quesadilla, with melted Monterey Jack and crumbled Bleu Cheese drizzled with pepper jam), Darryl (the other Locosguy) arrived and promptly ordered another round of shots of yet another new Tequila called Maestro Dobel, known as a ‘sipping tequila’ and it certainly was that.  

Finished the second margarita as my supper arrived so Jeffrey brought me home and saw me up the stairs.  (Did pretty well considering the drinks and balance issues). By this time it was 5:30 and I was more weak than I realized. Probably due to all the excitement and the tequila. Supper went into the refrigerator, Jeffrey took his leave, and I took a nap. Supper was warmed up about 2 hours later and was oh so good. 

Yes, I’m in pain again today, but my jaws hurt far more from the constant laughter, than my joints from the swelling.  A great time that was made more so by sharing it with some truly terriffic people with a very sick sensahumah.

Didn’t get melancholy following this visit. I know I’ll probably never work there again, but it doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the company and good graces of everyone I know there, however long that lasts.  It’s nice to know people still remember, miss, and care about me. Even nicer that Joe and Darryl keep them updated as they can.

I am amazed.

*

Not Worthy, and Other Bull$hit

Received a phone call this morning from a whining, nasally voiced, arrogant bitch with an attitude for days.  Seems it has come to her attention that I have not yet moved into ground floor quarters therefore she is punishing me by withholding Occupational Therapy at Home. 

Oh sweet Christ on a cracker!  I am unworthy of her care and attention!!! How do I put this gently? The harpy is clearly off her feed or meds, not sure which.  Bless her heart!

She sounded more like Miss Francis from Ding Dong School (I’ll wager no one will remember who that is.) on Speed than a medical professional, but I let her rant and purge, stomp her feet and reprimand for a good 5 minutes.  Finally referred her to the Oncologist and Infectious Disease specialist. Enuf.  STFU, lady!

Sure it may take longer these days, I do believe I can change my clothes, wash dishes, bathe the scrawny old body, tie my shoe laces, and even prepare my own meals if needed.  So I told her to go and blow goats, in the most Christian way, of course.

Linda picked me up for the Center appointment; ; the Lab results showed that I require a single unit of whole blood. This has been scheduled for tomorrow morning at 8:30 - Linda will also drop me off and pick me up again tomorrow. 

While we were out, we stopped by her house and she weighed me down with more of her Stew, which is a heavenly treat. (No one can say she's not doing her part to fatten me up.)We also stopped so she could do a bit of banking, then dropped off yet another prescription (I still had a small supply left here, so I didn’t rush to fill all the scripts last weekend) and was told that the other pain patch ordered had not yet arrived today as promised.  So, both will be picked up tomorrow after infusion.

By this time we were both hungry, chose to dine out for breakfast/lunch, and sort through some of the Medicare papers she’s received already this week.  If only they were as quick to settle claims as they are to send bills and demands for completed questionnaires this would be a far, far simpler world to live in. 

Just as with the last batch of bull$hit Linda received, many questions couldn’t be answered because the documentation is only available in my own files.  Jeez!  These people are such Gits!

For the second day of a row, I’ve spent 2 - 3 hours out and about. Again, it felt deliciously good even if I do get a bit wobbly after the first hour and a half. My strength will build, albeit slowly and eventually I’ll be able to drive myself and even master more of a comfortable walking gait or stride.

For now, someone will be here to help me up and down the stairs; bring up whatever packages or bags are in tow. This is all very strange for someone who has been such an independent person for so many years. I am not used to being pampered and I guess it shows.

Sometimes I feel like a toddler and other times feel blessed that those helping hands are here for me.

I am amazed.

*

Chemo, Crisis, Happy Hour & The Cloud

Third day of the final 7 for this cycle of Chemo and it’s another whole new

misadventure. Rash has returned to the arms, hands and wrists are swollen to double their normal size, and skin is flaking off of my body - everywhere. Charming, no?

Mini-crisis yesterday when I spiked a fever before the Chemo injections.  Temperature had to be brought down before the OK was given to go ahead. Took about 1.5 hours.  Like, forever!

This meant that Happy Hour with Sasha was  postponed until today.  And it worked out well for us both. Since we were both out on the road and out of town, it was easy to text and coordinate times for the meet up and cocktails. We settled on FINS, one of the restaurants that also has a place in town, but same owners, staff, chefs, etc. Sasha was a few minutes late, having to pick up one of his sons at Day Care, and return him home.

We made up for lost time quickly. He had lots to talk about and I was happy to listen. Not much for me to share except for the daily adventures in medical care and that’s just way too repetitious. We caught up on everything possible, the summer season, customers who still ask for me, and his concern for my health, while knocking back HH drink specials, chowing down on fresh, hot & spicy boiled shrimp, oysters, and fish and chips. 

We stayed way beyond HH, but the barman charged us at the HH prices for our extra drinks.  Nice gesture. Although we didn’t know them by name, the bar staff knew us from the business, too and treated us very well.

One barman tagged me as gay and so when Sasha arrived assumed we were a couple.  After 2 drinks Sasha started playing along. This particular barman was not amused and began to ignore us until one of the other guys set him straight - so to speak. It was funny really, because Sasha gave me a big hug before we left the pub, then another one outside the front door.  He said, let’s fuck with his homophobic head, shall we? As we parted, he kissed me on both cheeks, then the mouth.  What can I say…he’s Russian!!!

He’s taking his lovely wife out to dinner for her birthday tonight to a favorite restaurant from when they were dating - before marriage and the boys. It’s to be a surprise and our little get together was a great way to throw her off any scent she may have had about his plans. 

Sasha is not yet 30 and an incurable romantic. He loves his wife very much and it’s a joy to watch them when they’re together in public. Very low key, but very devoted to one another. 

Needless to say the bar food was more than enough for me - more than I’ve had at one sitting in a while, but it was so good to be with my friend, laughing, drinking, eating, and trading stories that I’ll sleep well tonight.

Now if only the itching and swelling would disappear life would be very good indeed.  

Bother!  I’ve supposedly downloaded the new (free) U2 album from iTunes, but I  can’t find it. I don’t know how to use the damned cloud and there is no button on the page to offer guidance. Another one of those “Apple is so simple, it’s right in front of your face, but you don’t see it” kind of things.

In all fairness to myself, I have never downloaded music from iTunes. Only copied my own music CDs into the program then shared with the phone and iPod.  And this content resides on the hard drive, not the cloud. No idea where to start looking. Sigh.

And so it goes.

 *

Questions, Comments & Email

Having cancer is difficult enough, but it isn’t the worst.  Topping the lot is interacting with people who spew insipid questions and comments without thinking.  That's what really burns my biscuits.  I know people are uncomfortable, and probably mean well, but Sweet Baby Jeebus on toast points, think before you make a fool of yourself.  Oh, and incidentally, There is NO reason to whisper the word “cancer” in 2014, really. These top my list of STFU, already:

I know how you feel.  

This is nothing.  You’re strong and can beat this thing.

What kind of cancer do you have? Not all cancers are the same, you know.

My ______________ had cancer.

My ______________ died of cancer.

God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.

Whenever I hear any of the above, especially the first and last, I really want that person to hold their breath until all life exits their body. These comments are not only annoying, they’re downright insulting.

Instead of putting your feet in your mouth, why not try putting them into my shoes for a few days and STFU! 

Then something like this email exchange comes along and knocks me back on my haunches:

Hi Wayne,

I know that you have no idea who I am but I am Ron XXXXXXXX from Milford, a non- Summer regular of Dos Locos. 

We missed or should I say miss seeing  your smiling face and pleasant greeting as we enter and were saddened to hear of your health struggle.  

I just wanted you to know Wayne that as unfair as your cancer is to happen to such a nice guy who is loved and missed and respected by so many people, God still loves you and I am praying for your happiness, that your pain be lessened and if it's his will, that He would heal you and return you to full strength.

My prayers go up for you Wayne.

Peace.

Ron XXXXXXXX

Hi Ron,  You're right, I'm not sure I know who you are, but that doesn't mean I can't thank you for the warm wishes and unexpected note. I appreciate any and all communication from my customers.  I miss you all very much. I would be back on the floor in a heartbeat, if I could. I hate that I cannot be in crowds or even large groups because of my low blood count.  It's a killer for someone like me.

Still, I hear from a few folks now and then and as I said, am grateful for the remembrance. Wishing you a safe and peace-filled holiday weekend.  Maybe I'll see you at DL sometime in the off season.  I do try to get over there when I am up to it.

Again, thanks for the prayers and warm wishes.

Cheers,

Wayne

(And this one, today.)

Hi Wayne,

It's funny you mentioned the off season because my wife and I are one of the , I'm sure, many customers who tell you in May that we'll see you in September, although we did get there in early August when our family came to RB.

We always asked about you but the newer servers would never tell,us anything, I assume a confidentiality issue.

The only thing I can say that might bring me to mind is we always get the crabmeat quesidilla (sp?) and one time I got a crabmeat/ shrimp quesidilla and you and I agreed that the combo kind of cancels each other's taste out.

Anyway, Wayne, it is good hearing from you and my prayers REALLY, HONESTLY,will go up for you.

Hope to see you back.

Peace.

Ron

What a difference. Generous. Non-judgmental. There is nothing more to say after such an exchange. I am blessed by so many people. It would be wonderful to enjoy their company a little while longer. May it be so.

And so it goes.

*

Happy Hour: Munchies and Mayhem

Dark & Stormy

In all my years living here I have never seen the town so full and bursting at the seams. Although many colleges started classes last week, the crowds were enormous.

In an attempt to head ‘em off at the pass, (and assure myself a weekend parking space) I ran to the pharmacy early - less than 2 miles away - and it took 45 minutes to do the deed. Aside from 5 or 6 minutes picking up the prescriptions, the rest was spent in heavier than usual traffic.

Even at 9:30 a.m. drivers were in a bad mood.  I was an obstacle in their way to the beach, if you get my drift. The speed limit in town is 25mph. I was one of a few locals obeying the law, also one of the few drivers not to be pulled over for speeding.  This did nothing for the visitors' attitude. Nothing.

Now available pre-mixed.

My parking space was still vacant when I returned. I cheered and blessed the Universe. Spent the rest of the day doing bits of nothing; passing time until 4:30 when Linda’s chariot parked out front and beckoned me aboard for a few hours of frivolity and sick humor.  Oh, and cocktails…let’s not forget the cocktails.  Sean made my Dark & Stormy’s and I was in heaven. Jeffrey tried a “Daddieo-Paddio” (sp?) which is a sort of rum martini, but sweet. I had a sip.  It’s lethal, trust me.

This being the last weekend before Labor Day a few of the usual suspects couldn’t join in the fun, but we shared photos and text messages with them, so as not to be totally left out.

As we munched on shredded beef nachos, mussels, clams, and hog wings (yes, we were at Pig & Fish) the funny and not-so-funny stories were shared and

passed around.  Even the P&F staff told a few of their own tales of woe.  Looks like it was the same stories all over town.

Jeffrey, Me, Frank

Tourists were more arrogant and needy this summer than in the past. Large families not willing to give an inch to anyone in their way of having their vacation experience exactly as planned.  Sad, really. So much angst when they ought to have been relaxed and laid back. 

As we were clearing up the tab, the owner of another restaurant came over to chat. His is a classical Irish pub with traditional local Irish foods and always very good. He invited us to celebrate post-Labor Day at his place next Monday after everyone gets off from their shift. It’s to be a special Happy Hour/Party for downtown service workers to wind down from the Summer-from-hell. There’ll be drink specials, of course, as well as a few surprise food specials that made Linda’s mouth water. He had me when he mentioned Irish sausages.

Stoney Lonen Irish Pub & Eatery.

Linda, being an Irish lass and knowing the owner better than any of us, quickly accepted the invitation, informing us all (me included, she will pick me up) that we are to meet there on Monday afternoon. So, now there is another social gig on the horizon to look forward to…I am soooo there!

Before driving me home, Linda took a tour of the town and amazed me with the staggering number of people walking around as well as those driving around (and around) in search of a parking spot. The beach block was insanity writ large, and not having been in large groups or crowds in a year, made me uneasy, even though I was in the car behind plate glass.

Amazingly, just 2 blocks away, my street was a quiet sanctuary with only parked cars evidence of the mayhem just around the corner. 

Ten days from now it will all be over; visitors will all be gone and the town returned to us, a little worn out, but still intact.

I was in bed before 8 o’clock and feeling like a million bucks.

And so it goes.

*

Mary’s Going to Hell!

Along with her diner and more than a few customers. She’s paying folks who pray in her restaurant, and the baby Jeebus says that’s a no-no. She’s being the worst kind of hypocrite. See, it’s like this:

A North Carolina diner is offering a very different sort of discount to its customers, the prayerful ones.
Mary’s Gourmet Diner in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, is offering a 15 percent "praying in public" discount. Owner Mary Haglund confirmed the discount to The Blaze on Friday saying that she has actually been offering the rebate for four years now. The discount, which she said is not aligned with any singular religious affiliation, hasn't been advertised and is offered per the discretion of the waitstaff.
“[W]hen I see someone in a restaurant honoring their gratefulness at my table … it touches my heart," she told The Blaze. Adding: "It’s just a moment or faithfulness about the plate of food. It’s not even a policy — it’s [something] we only do when we’re moved to do it.”
The praying in public discount gained attention this week after Christian radio station Z88.3 posted a photo of a customer's receipt to its Facebook page.

The rest is HERE.

Here’s the problem: Matthew 6 v. 5-6

5 “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full.

6 But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. 

Now praying alone doesn’t really count anymore.  How does anyone know that you’re REALLY doing what you say?  Who can tell you’re a Xristian if you don’t pray publicly to prove it? 

But as we all know good Xristian Xrazies love to save a buck or two, so what’s to keep them from sitting down, putting their hands together and pretending to chat with big daddy in the sky? I mean, who would know? Besides, they can always put that 15% savings in the collection plate next Sunday…yeah, like that’s going to happen. 

Never mind then, Hell it is!

And so it goes.

*

P.S. Remind me to tell you sometime about the Xrazy clergy person I worked for who never went anywhere without the dog collar.  Oh, the money he made/saved. And nothing to do with the baby Jeebus!

Office Visits & A Dark and Stormy…

Thursday morning: Surgeon Office Visit.  New port placement healing well, no irritation or infection detected. (Yay!) previous port site is healing well and required no further stitching. (is that a word?) No future appointment scheduled unless problems arise. Yay, Again!

Friday’s appointment postponed til next week to coincide with upcoming Lab work.  This means I have all of today off. No medical - No nothing!

Just the Happy Hour soiree with old co-workers at the Pig & Fish.  A Dark and Stormy was the cocktail du jour. Linda’s choice. Let me know if you don’t know what it is.  Think lovely Ginger Beer!  Weeee!

A few of my favorite customers from Dos Locos showed up as a surprise to wish me well, and blew me away. Straight couples to boot, and the guys gave me big hugs, one kissed me on the mouth.  I can’t say I was shocked by the gesture. Straight men, at least in my recent experience, are not hung up on showing affection to other men, anymore.  He also happens to be one of the best looking men around and I’ve mentioned him and his wife in past posts. They are amazing people. 

Their parents, kids, and grandkids (if you saw these two, you’d never believe they were old enough to have kids, let alone, the grand variety) couldn’t be here so early on a Friday, so they sent video text messages to me instead.  I cried like a fucking baby, so sue me.  

We ate.  Oh, did we eat! Our Appetizers included hog wings, pulled pork nachos, chesapeake blue crab dip, shrimp and bay scallops with garlic on baguette points. Drool, drool. etc.!

It felt grand to be immersed in such positive energy.  My buddy, Jeffrey, (the guy who is probably responsible for saving my life last year) had this evening off but chose to come by after his shift and lift a glass with us, as well. We both cried just a bit. Maybe he’s as surprised as I am that I’m still here.

Even my friend and sidekick, Debbie was able to attend and create her own kind of chaos and disorder, as only she can. (Like I say, it’s a small town and the crazy runs wide and deep in us all.) Once we got her settled in, it was a sweet, smooth and happy ride.  Think Jabba’s desert glider without Carrie Fisher’s gilded bikini.  I know you can. 

We had our “wing” of the bar - an L that took the front and right side in equal proportions - our joy was infectious,  folks kept coming over to join in our fun, if only for a short time or just to say HELLO and wish me well. I had no idea I had such a reputation…

Having knocked back 2 Dark and Stormy cocktails and all that food set before us, Linda knew it was time for me to call it a night. She was right, of course, and I didn’t argue. I was ready for the ride home and a good night’s sleep, which I will undoubtedly enjoy since I am free of all things medical until Monday.

May life include a few more days like this one. Please.

And so it goes.

*

Pick One?

Oh, sure! 

That’s easier said than done.  In the off-season, we could have a drink at each place, but it ain’t, so we can’t. Linda suggested choosing from 5 venues for our mini-party. Choosing one isn’t going to be easy.  I mean, check out this list:

The Henlopen City Oyster House

The Blue Moon

The Pig and Fish

Salt Air

Cafe Azafran, Lewes

All offer super Happy Hour drink specials, and the HH food menus are outrageously good and inexpensive. The chefs always try new things, or bring back popular items from the old dinner menu, but in smaller, half-plate portions. 

Hog wings, mussels in wine with scallions, fried green tomatoes topped with lump crab remoulade, various cheese boards, sliders, etc.  You get the idea. Happy Hour food can be (and has been) an evening’s supper.

But, where to go? I’d rather just go along where ever everyone else wants to go. Let’s be honest, I haven’t been to a full-blown HH in a group since I got sick last Summer, so everyone else already knows where the best goodies are to be had.

I think they want me to choose because it’s my day.  I’d rather be surprised, myself. 

The only venue I would skip over would be The Blue Moon.  It’s a top-notch, fine-dining restaurant, one of the state's best since 1980.  But not for HH at the bar. Too many young, DC queans in their Abercrombie & Fitch skinny jeans and tee shirts - and they all wear them. It’s the clone look of the decade, dont'cha know.  They tend to be noisy and obnoxious drunks, but seem content to put up with one another for an evening.  I am not!

Cafe Azafran & Salt Air have the shortest HH hours (5 to 7 pm) and I know that

will be a problem for the lushes ‘er heavier drinkers in our group. So, all things considered, we’re down to The Oyster House (3 p.m. to 6 p.m.) or Pig & Fish (4 p.m. to 7 p.m.).  If you read this space often you will already know that both of these are faves of mine.

I’ll suggest both to Linda, since some of the gang may have to work the lunch shift til 4 p.m. anyway, and let them finalize the location accordingly.  I don’t think I can be more diplomatic than that. And after 7 hours at the Center today, I am too tired to even try.

At this point, I'd be happy sitting on a park bench under a tree drinking wine from a box or paper sack, as long as I was with those I care about.

And so it goes.

*

Disturbing Night - Stunning Sunrise.

Sunrise over the Atlantic this morning. Cool, and quiet; few people around. I grabbed the camera and headed to the beach just at dawn. By the time I got my large iced coffee the sun was already where you see it in the image, but partly behind a band of clouds. Very pretty.  The photo doesn’t do justice, really. My boardwalk stroll was perfectly timed and if the camera didn’t register the gorgeous imagery, my eyes did.  Just stunning, as usual.

It was not a good night in these parts. I was awakened by fireworks at about midnight.  No, these weren’t authorized or city-sponsored.  It seems it was a large family gathering that pushed the envelope.  Very disturbing, sounded as if they were right next door, though they were around the corner and down the block. 

Evidently the home responsible is cause for concern by police more than a few times a season. In any case, I was not in a state conducive to sleep after that shake-a-wake call.  I did try getting back to sleep, but it was no good. The night and my sweet, relaxed mood had been shattered, maybe what we call an “altered state.” Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

When sirens wailed belatedly, I figured there had been an injury and an ambulance was summoned. Indeed, that was the case.

So, 2 a.m. found me preparing eggs and toast for breakfast while knocking back a huge cup of coffee.  Eventually, I had 2 of those large cups, but the caffeine didn’t take effect for hours. 

My original plan was to breakfast at the best place in town this morning, but having eaten a large meal so early, I thought it best to wait for another day. 

The Royal Treat has been here forever.  Owned and run by my sidekick Deb and her family.  It’s a multi-generational thing. Families come back year after year. No reservations, first come first served. (The tables on the screened front porch are always the first  to go.) Even the First Lady waited in line last summer for her bacon and eggs. (She was here with the girls for a weekend.  The prez wasn’t with them.)

If you’ve been to Rehoboth you probably already know the place.  Someone may have already introduced you the "treat". If not, make sure you put it on your list to visit when you do come to Rehoboth. It’s delicious, tradition, and well worth the wait for a table. 

The place is legendary for not only their breakfasts, but their homemade ice creams. Most of us locals love the place, but since most of us work all the time, it’s tough to get a break to enjoy a meal or sundae there except once or twice a season.

It’s probably best that I didn’t go today. A sunday is very busy with lots of big families in attendance. I guess I could surprise everyone by showing up tomorrow.  Now that I have the Handicap placard, parking close by won't be an issue. 

And so it goes.

*

A Lunch, A Flight, A New Reality

Was at the Center at 7:30 yesterday morning hoping to get blood work done via the port, but it wasn’t meant to be.  Access was made through veins in the arm, much to everyone’s dismay. It had to be done. Maybe by Thursday things will be better.

Due to the recent parking problems and missed appointments I received an approved application for a Handicap Parking Placard for the car. I was surprised and shocked that I would even be eligible for one of the things. This reality (my new disability) is taking a long time to sink in. I can’t help feeling ashamed that I should have to use one. 

I know, I know. I need to get over that. This is my present and probable future.  Like it, or not.  I drove out to the DMV and picked it up. I drove back to the beach staring at the thing on the seat beside me feeling very depressed. At least I won’t have trouble parking at medical facilities anymore.

Then friend Jeffery sent a text yesterday afternoon (co-worker and friend; drove me to and from hospital for the port surgery in April) suggesting we meet for lunch today.  His one weekly day off during the season.  I was flattered that he’d want to share part of the precious day in my company, so I immediately said, “yes!” 

The Pork Flatliner! Any questions?

Of course, dining in town was out of the question with crowds and parking at a premium, so we opted for the sister of one of the restaurants outside of town.  This one is on the Coastal Highway and, unlike her in-town sibling, open for lunch every day. 

Rather than having him fight traffic in town to pick me up, we decided to meet at the restaurant, which turned out to be best for both of us. 

The place was busy.  Seems other locals had the same idea because we ran into quite a few folks we know from town who were either at the bar, or in the dining room enjoying a non-frazzled lunch break. And, of course, the 2 flat screen TV sets were tuned to the World Cup and the bar was rocking. Who’da thunk it?

It was great fun. Jeffrey and I caught up on our news and his recent eastern European holiday.  Aside from my riveting medical experiences there was little for me to share, so he did most of the talking.  That was fine with me. 

Lunch was a fine time, too. We each tried new items on the menu - time to move out of the comfort zone for a day - and each enjoyed a “flight” of 3 new micro-brews along with it; in three 4 oz. glasses.  Why not go whole hog with the new stuff, I always say.  Well, I do. 

We munched, laughed, rattled, and hummed for 2 hours. Time went quickly, it felt like a half hour. Fortunately, the staff know we’re restaurant folks, too, taking a summer breather, so while attentive, they didn’t bother us.

We parted as he made his way to meet other friends to watch the USA vs Belgium match this afternoon.  Mercy! The World Cup fever has invaded the gay community of Rehoboth Beach and things may never be the same.  Still, I like this football much better than the American version, so I guess it’s a win-win all round.

Jeffrey wanted me to join the group (mostly co-workers from Dos Locos) but my energy isn’t very high and I have to be careful in large groups and crowds, so I begged off.  It would have been a festive, gay old adventure any other time…but not until I’m well, again. Still, it was good company, took my mind off that damned Handicap placard, and a chance to get out of the house again. Any port in a storm, I always say…

And so it goes.

*

The Whiskey Sour Miracle Cure?

Following yesterday's long day between both the Cancer Center and Hospital, I was delighted to get a phone message from Gwen (my friend’s 90+ year old Mom) demanding asking that I join her for a quick nosh and a festive Whiskey Sour.  Well, the nosh was a fine idea, don’t get me wrong, but after the day I had, that Whiskey Sour sounded like Manna from Heaven.

Remember, these are made from scratch; no tacky cocktail mixes cross her doorstep. Like I said; Manna from Heaven.

Our nosh turned into a full blown dinner (she cooked) and, among other things, we solved the mysteries of the Universe.  It didn’t take too long, only about 3 hours and spritzed here and there with quantities of Whiskey Sour. The meal was probably the heaviest I’ve had in over a year. A slow cooked, heavenly tasting brisket with a dish that reminded me of Bubble & Squeak, but a Magyar version without the leftovers. Finished off with coffee and fresh peach pie. 

Oh, and did I mention there were Whiskey Sours, too!!!

We swapped medical stories (she survived cancer twice!) and she gave me some sage advice - that I am not willing to share right now. Very personal and extremely important, it may prove to be at a later date.

I made it home feeling at peace - no pain - and slept like a baby. Gwen was supposed to hit the road back to NY this morning and since I didn’t get a call, I assume she was OK to do so.  Man, that woman can hold her own when it comes to Liquors. 

There is an odd twist to this story, however.  As I dressed for the Neupogen injection appointment this morning, putting on socks, I suddenly noticed that the swelling in the legs was noticeably reduced. It was then I realized there was no soreness, either. 

Now, you may remember my Gen. Mgr. at Dos Locos, that darlin’ wee Irish Lass, Linda has most everyone convinced that Irish Whiskey will cure most anything upper respiratory problems, sore throats, even cold, winter numbness.  And sometimes her suggested cure has worked for what was ailing me.

Then a thought occurred to me:  I wonder if Whiskey Sours are the “Jewish Penicillin” for Edema.  Hey!  Stranger things have happened. Especially since those cocktails were the only difference in my daily routine of the past week. That in itself is thrilling to contemplate, no?  But, it seems to have worked.

You can believe what you want to believe. If it keeps the swelling down, I believe I’ll have another Whiskey Sour in the near future.

Cheers!

And so it goes.

*

A Most Unusual Day

(sans Deanna Durbin and Judy Garland)

Woke up at 1 am. Truth be told,  I’d fallen asleep at around 6 pm, thanks in part to the Benadryl consumed to counter the edema in the left leg and ankle.

Still, it was 1 o’clock in the morning and my noisy neighbors were just rolling in from a night of bar trivia or karaoke - don’t ask - and they were far from ready to call it a night.  Instead, they shot the breeze with friends who joined them for the evening’s frivolity, and man were they ever wound up and noisier than usual.  And that’s saying something.

Normally, if I’m already in a deep sleep I don’t hear their carrying on, but last night was different. While they were banging things around in their kitchen, I was soft boiling eggs for a very early breakfast. 

They’re popping wine corks as I’m brewing a coffee in my French Press.  It couldn’t have been more bizarre - point, counter point. 

After a perfectly cooked breakfast- and wide awake -  I snuggled under the covers with the headphones and listened to (for the first time in years - I was desperate) Yanni Live at the Acropolis, which turned out to be loud enough to drown out even the most shrill voices next door.  I was happy.

Later…

Following a shower and shave, I took to the road to run a few early errands: fuel up the car and take a walk on the boardwalk. The sun was just beginning to break through the overnight clouds and the sky behind was bright blue. As you can see from the selfie above.

Most of the breakfast shops on the Avenue were open, so I snagged a strong iced coffee and sat on a bench facing the sunrise and ocean. I felt no pain so I walked the entire Boardwalk (1 mile) in both directions.  

I thought how nice it would be to share these beautiful morning experiences with someone else. Oh, I see people I know, but they can’t be bothered, even to say “hello” (which everyone does on the boardwalk. It’s an unwritten law) they simply nod and maybe smile and move on.

Thought I’d treat myself to a full Sunday afternoon dinner at a fave restaurant - and so I tried.  Either they were still serving Brunch (which is a first!) or the  were catering to large families with small children.  For reasons (other than the need or the mask) I wasn’t ready to share my peaceful meal with a bunch of squealing chill’ins with inattentive parents.

I finally came to The Pig & Fish another favorite and the timing was perfect. 

They don’t like small children and strollers are verboten, so I was seated at a small table in the back corner. All quiet and peaceful like. No mask necessary.

I’ve known the manager for years.  He came over and we shared a hug.  He also brought me a glass of wine. I realized then just how hungry I was - having had nothing since about 3:30 am - and ordered my meal with eyes that proved no bigger than my belly. The appetizer was their famous Hog Wings (pork short ribs that look like chicken wings only bigger (O.M.G.!) and for an entree I ordered the Lobster & Crab Mac & Cheese. It is what it is…Out. Of. This. World.

By the time I came up for air, Happy Hour was in full swing at the bar and the noise level was becoming annoying.  Paid the check, shared another hug with my old friend and headed out the door.  Fortunately, the P&F is less than 2 blocks from my place, so the walk wasn’t a problem.

I am paying the price for such a grand, unusually active day and delicious meal.  The left leg has ballooned to an enormous size, so it’s time for another round of Benadryl, and back to bed and more reading. 

No complaints. A good time all round. To hell with tomorrow and beyond. I’m sure I’ll whine later, but not now. As I say, it’s all good.

And so it goes.

*

Out and About, Again.

Having a few errands to run today I thought I’d get them out of the way early (as usual) and enjoy what will likely be the last nice, seasonal day before the holiday weekend. Rain is due tonight through Friday. The car needed to be fueled up, there were items to go to the recycle center and a few things to look for at Staples.

While I was out anyway, I decided to have breakfast at the other restaurant owned by the Locosguys, in Lewes, called JD’s Cafe. It would give me a chance to see co-workers I didn’t see last week at Dos Locos and catch up on their lives. 

Shortly after I arrived, I was sipping coffee when the Locosguys walked through the doors. They joined me and we commiserated as we enjoyed breakfast together. It was sad to note that a few folks who worked with us last year were unable to return because their governments feared they would defect. Most were in their last year of school, which seems to be the prime time for students to make a quick getaway.

So, at the last minute, the restaurant is short handed and the holiday is upon us. I told them I would help in any way I could, though they wouldn’t be allowed to pay me because I’m not suppose to work. But Hell, I would love to spend a few hours, a couple of days around people again.  Even for free!

We talked a little about their upcoming trip to NOLA and they seemed very excited. I like that. Since we made all the reservations last week they’ve talked with friends who’ve been to NOLA and they confirmed my suggestions as some of the best.  That seemed to suit the guys just fine.

As I made the stop at Staples (which is across the highway from the Multiplex) I had a sudden itch to take in a movie - on the big screen - for the first time in years.

So, being a Tuesday before Memorial Day weekend, and being the town is pretty much deserted, I thought I might take in a movie at the Multiplex early in the afternoon.  (Don’t faint, or anything. I’m desperate.)  So, I checked out the viewing choices on line and was left scratching my head - wondering what half these films are about and where they came from.

Yes, I guess I am out of the loop, movie-wise, because I recognized few titles and fewer “stars” performing in them. Four are summer blockbusters - which I have no desire to see. Especially not Spiderman or Captain America. Spandex makes me sneeze! 

And those four features are playing on 8 screens (4 in 2-D and 4 in 3-D) which leaves the other screens playing either kid-flicks or, as I said, films I’ve never heard of - except two: “The Grand Budapest Hotel” and the Disney documentary, “Bears”. No, not that  kind of bears.  The kind that hibernate  and shit in the woods.  Those bears. Not interested in that one.

There are times when I am not happy where I live - even with the Ocean so nearby. This was one of them. 

The only offering I’d like to see The Grand Budapest Hotel, though the reviews have been mixed, I’ve heard enough to be interested and would like to draw my own conclusions. However, there is no matinee; first showing is 4:40 pm.  So, the movie idea was out of the question. 

So what did I do instead you ask?  Well, I took a walk on the boardwalk, sat in the sun and listened to the ocean as little ones carrying bags of french fries dodged the seagulls dive bombing them to get at the tasty treats.  

Drove home and feeling inspired, I made a spinach and bacon quiche, that’s what I did. Of course I’ll be eating the thing for a few days, but I’ve suddenly got an appetite and I’ll feed it while it’s here. 

And so it goes.

*

TMI – Make Mine A Double !

Sean @ Just a Jeep Guy does it again. Here are  my responses.

1. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink?

Bombay Sapphire Gin Martini straight up, very dry, with olives. I also like a good Frozen Golden Margarita, especially in the hot days of summer.

2. What kind of wine do you prefer?

Usually a Merlot, but again, in Summer I like a nice chilled glass of Chardonnay. 

3. Do you have a favorite beer?

I’m not really a big beer fan, especially not American brands. I tend to go for heavier robust stuff like Guinness when I have beer at all.

4. Can you taste the difference between vodkas?

Not so much anymore - tastebuds are shot. I can still determine the smooth ones from the rot-gut brands.

5. Are you a top shelf or rail kinda person?

If I’m having a Bombay Martini, then top shelf.  If I am having a mixed drink, like gin and tonic or rum and coke, no. It would be a waste of the good stuff to mix it with such things.

6. What was your most memorable (good, bad or embarrassing) drinking experience?

None that I care to remember anymore.  Most memorable times were in my previous life and that was 30 years worth of memories that are best forgotten now.

BONUS

Have you ever drunk dialed?

No! There is no one to call, anyway. 

More later.

*

No Jinx, Please.

I’m almost afraid to type it for fear of bad Ju-Ju. 

Truth is, I’ve felt quite good, almost myself, for the past 3 days. No ill side-effects from drugs.  Only negatives are an annoying outbreak of teenage skin, caused by the Danazol and similar to the problem with the Prednisone; and the continued issue of poor circulation in both hands.

Saturday was a day full of new adventures and rain.  Sunday was a day full of friends, conversations, shared cocktails with co-workers at Dos Locos and rain. Well-rested and content with the world and my new place in it. 

Monday lunch with a friend at another place I’ve never been. A great find. Another hidden gem of a place with great food (most everything made on site) and, as witnessed by the lunch crowd, well worth the price and waiting time.  You want fresh, you wait for it. Period. 

It’s been a time of not caring when I sleep or how long; wake refreshed, calm, almost serene. No negativity to ruin my mood or insinuate itself into my world. I am loving the new experience.

The sun is out for the first time in 5 days and it looks like a grand spring day ahead.  Maybe a perfect day for a drive to the Indian River Inlet to take in the fisher folks and surfers, just for a change of scenery and to get fresh ocean air in my dusty lungs.

I came across a recipe for Fried Rice which is likely to be on my gay agenda for supper this evening. It’s quick, light, and meatless.  I have all ingredients - and then some - so additional goodies may be included in the mix before they go bad in the fridge.

The new Tarot card for April has been drawn and it seems a good one for positive energy and balance. I can certainly use a lot of both as I prepare for the possible upcoming Chemo treatments. 

One step at a time. So far, all steps in the right direction.

And so it goes.

*

Note:  For whatever reason, Blogger chose not to post this yesterday. I found it in the "Drafts" folder this morning.  Don't ask!

Friends, Fish & Chips, & Flowering Plants.

Counting down the days when I'll be Prednisone-free and I appear to be suffering adverse withdrawal effects. Today it was a full-blown anxiety attack at 1:30 am.   Didn't know  what hit me until I was smack in the middle of the damned thing.  I mean, I've never had one before and had to Google the symptoms, believe it or not. They ain't something pretty, trust me. But,  I got through it - even if I couldn't go back to sleep. 

My sleep hours are fucked up these days, anyway, and I am just taking it in stride until I am totally clean of the damned stuff. Seriously, I've asked that Prednisone be flagged in my pharmacy profile as a drug that causes "adverse side effects" and that's putting it mildly. They've also flagged it in my computer profile at the hospital and cancer center.  I never want that stuff to pass my lips again.  Not ever!

A happy surprise: Friend, Jeffrey, sent a text this morning asking if I felt up to having lunch somewhere today. I got the text as I was about half way through the morning transfusion, and as I was receiving only one unit today, I sent back a big "YES!" We swapped food and restaurant preferences before choosing a little British Fish & Chips shop here in town. Neither had been there in about a year - probably longer for me. Everything is fresh and served in copious amounts by the owner, herself.  

It's called "Go Fish" and their menu includes lots of other British pub food like Bangers & Mash, Bubble & Squeak, and side dishes like mushy peas, beer battered sausages, cheddar mashed potatoes, and pickled onions.  They also make authentic British Chips (fries) that are all by themselves worth the trip.

It is a tiny place, seats only about 40 - Max, and the place is always busy, but that's because the food is always good. Alison, the owner, works the floor with only one helper and still the pace is smooth, relaxed and never rushed.  The clientele is a laid-back mixed crowd, and mostly adults. If you're not in a rush, they won't rush you.  And that's not to be said for many other dining spots at lunch time, especially the bigger chains outside of town. 

Jeffrey and I met at about 12:30 and Alison seated us immediately, asked if we had a time constraint, and when we said, NO, she brought us a Guinness then left us alone to chat and make our selections. 

We talked about Dos Locos, Jeffrey's attempts to purchase a new home, and his upcoming holiday to Bulgaria next month. I was glad he had lots to talk about, because I certainly didn't.   My life consisting of hospital, Cancer Center, Pharmacy, and grocery store wouldn't be riveting; would barely fill up a ten-minute conversation, even if he asked questions.  Which he did, bless his heart. 

We enjoyed our leisurely meal - I had classic fish & chips while Jeffrey had the special Tilapia Sandwich of the day. The restaurant is only a few steps from the boardwalk and ocean.  The sun was bright, it was warm, we were full, and thought of taking a brief walk by the sea. The wind was strong, however, so Jeffrey decided against that option. Must admit, I was relieved, too.

We finished our conversation sitting in the sunlight on a beach bench, shared a hug and went on our way. It was a great afternoon to be out and in good company, after a great meal and we promised not to wait so long before we do it again.  At least once more before the Summer Season begins. 

When I got back to the apartment there was a wrapped gift of a live potted plant waiting for me in the middle of my stairs. It's a lovely Orchid (something I've never been able to grow successfully) from my neighbors down the street who live in western PA, but have their summer place here.  Very thoughtful of them, to be sure. I will try my best not to kill the thing. But, no promises.  No matter how I follow care instructions, they always seem to wither and keel over in a month or two. Still, a thoughtful gift and a cheerful addition to my dull, monochromatic life.

I got online to find an important message from the Locosguys, asking that I try to stop in over the weekend to give a few pointers to my replacement as the restaurant gears up for spring break and the onslaught of the pre-season homeowners who begin coming down in April to get their beach places ready for the summer.  Like my generous neighbors down the street. 

The restaurant starts getting slammed even on weekdays from mid-March with all bets off by Easter Week, and they want the new guy to be comfortable with the increased traffic and not freak out.  I told them I'd make every effort to show my face for a few hours to help out. With the new infused blood flowing in my veins, I should be able to make this happen.  At least I hope I can. 

Probably due to the 1:30 AM anxiety attack (from which I never fully recovered), coupled with the rich, delicious lunch, I am ready for a nap.  Yes.  Me!  Never thought I'd see the day when I would want crawl under the covers for a mid-afternoon snooze, but there it is.

Whatever.  There will be only a very light supper tonight, if anything, so it's cool. Besides, I need some real rest, not more time in bed, if you get my drift. That can be far from restful.

I am disappointed to have missed last weekend's Bloggerpalooza, but it couldn't have been otherwise. I was a physical and emotional train wreck for days before and after the affair. I did share a chat with a couple of those in attendance, but there was simply no way I was up to actually moving my body out of this place to visit with them for even a few minutes. Driving or even walking were out of the question and this place isn't ready for prime time visitations. 

 I have seen a few pictures posted at the sites of various bloggers who were able to attend, and it looked like a good time. I wanted to see Anne Marie's knit handy work, get a hug from Dr. Spo, and meet Slugmama.  Of course, seeing everyone from last year would have been icing on the cake. Sadly though, not in the cards for me this year. Maybe next year, if there is one, and if I am still fogging the mirror, so to say. 

On a somewhat different note: I don't understand Ron's (Retired in Delaware) need to pretend to be an expert on all things related to Rehoboth Beach in general, the dining experience in particular.  He clearly is not.  Still, he has his bully pulpit and there are those who will believe what he has to say, not knowing better, and that is sad. I also wonder at his constant negativity, a real desire to put the town down (with long, repetitive tirades of untruths that pepper his posts from time to time), especially since he partakes of so little of what it has to offer.  

But unfortunately, for whatever reason, that's just Ron's way. Being a gossip means one can play fast and loose with the truth and reality. That being said, major props to Ron for all his work and organizational skills at pulling these events together.

Ending on the up-beat; I received a phone call just now from the merchandising manager at the local Rite Aid pharmacy (where my new prescription plan is honored) telling me that they will be stocking a Quinine tablet called "Leg Cramps with Quinine" which is an OTC product to alleviate cramping in legs, arms, hands, etc., in many cases due to side effects of various medications.  Earlier this week I asked that they carry it, because it has only been available at online retailers anymore. (Thanks to blogger & FB buddy, Diane for pointing me in the right direction) When the large corporate retailers replaced our old mom & pop operations they discontinued shelf space for many homeopathic options.  Probably not profitable enough. I was told the item should be in stock when the next sale flyer begins - which is next Sunday.  Now that makes me feel good.

Nap time!!!

And so it goes.

*

Lunch Date with Lobster Reuben

Yesterday's Labs showed the need for another transfusion - damn! - and so I was free to enjoy the lunch date with friend Deb. The Oyster House changed their winter hours and opened at noon, which was fine because we were to meet there at 12:15 pm, anyway. 

We were the first customers through the doors, and welcomed by Chris (owner) himself as we took some time to chat about the business, or lack thereof, this winter. Chris and his kitchen crew, like Dos Locos and their Staff, are the reason for the continued success of the restaurant. When you order a favorite from the menu you can be sure it will be just as good as the last time. 

A monster Lobster Reuben Sandwich = lobster chunks, slaw, thousand island dressing, gruyere on grilled thick rye texas toast was recommended by my dining partner, owner Chris, and server.  Taking the advice of the majority, I ordered the thing.  I always like to try new things, especially when they're quirky and contain uncommon ingredients.  Yes, I mean, "lobster reuben sandwich"?  Besides, I've never had a bad meal here.

Chris brought wine, excused himself to get back to the kitchen to prep for dinner, as the restaurant began filling up with people I know, Deb knew, or we both know from around town.  Yes, it's a small town.  This outing was another one of those wonderful gifts - being out and about in a social setting. Nothing in the world like that warm feeling.

When the order arrived I was so glad I hadn't also ordered the Oysters Rockefeller.  There would have been way too much food and we'd never have walked (unassisted) out of the place. As we chowed down I could see Chris and our server, Eric watching for my reaction. They all laughed as all I could mutter was "oooh my g*d" as the juices and cheese ran down my chin or exploded in my mouth.

I was in multi-sensory heaven. O.M.G. that was the biggest, richest, and most satisfying Reuben I've ever tasted.  Rich, but not heavy it made my mouth happy, and my tummy thought it had died and gone to culinary heaven. 

Side note: The Lobster Reuben is only served at lunch and only in the off-season. The sandwich is prep-heavy and requires constant attention by the chef. This ain't no fast-food deli, luncheon sandwich.  Trust me.

After our leisurely meal, we sat and talked about everything and nothing. Deb has been covering a few of my shifts at DL, so she picked my brain about getting specific things done before staff arrives, as well as dealing with certain high maintenance customers;  good customers, but high maintenance, none the less. 

Seems she also had a telephone conversation with the folks at the DE Eye Institute (the people who treated me rudely a while back) and told them she was taking her business, her family and friends elsewhere. The representative at the Institute tried to tell her that I must have been mistaken, or lying.  That's not something to say to Debbie, not about her friends, or her family. 

She was even more pissed after ending the call and wrote a letter to her eye doctor (the one she suggested I see) telling him of her decision, going into great detail, and suggested he might want to look into what's happening at the front reception area.  After all, it's his bread & butter, too.

I had 2 new prescriptions to fill and she had to get ready for work at DL last night, so we shared a hug and went our separate ways. 

Needless to say, there was no room for even a light supper last night, but all was right in my little corner of the world.

Woke very short of breath, probably the reason I'm to receive double transfusions today, so it will be a long session at the center. I'll stop for the new scripts on the way home this evening, if I feel up to it.  If not, I'll feel better tomorrow.  I hope. 

(This should have posted this morning, but somehow Blogger screwed up.  Sorry, if the timing throws anyone off.)

And so it goes.

*

Exercise in Futility, Gratitude, and Year's End

Another futile day on the telephone, but far less productive than last week. More of the same; we're busy, leave voicemail - office closed for the holiday -  please hold - wait, wait, wait. 

The envelope pile has been reduced by one after 5 hours of work and the frustration was beyond belief. I finally shut it all down, called it a day.  A Year - I am sure all offices will be closed tomorrow; maybe until next Monday. 

An unrelated call came in from the office of the elusive surgeon in Christiana offering a new appointment date in the new year.  That date is February 7, 2014.  Is there nothing sooner? That's the earliest available date.  I asked to be called should there be a cancelation, but that request was futile, too.  I accepted the date.

Well, try not to die beforehand, will you…but if you do, please call and cancel your appointment.  OK? - She did not add.

I received a few gifts and gift cards this Christmas and I decided to devote some time to thank you cards, and phone calls to the givers.  There was a large chocolate letter "S" from Peter (the dear), a few bottles of wine, gift cards for local businesses from a few customers, and very generous gift card from the Locosguys and the entire staff.

As an aside, perhaps if we get to have a little Face Time, I can find out from Peter if there is any meaning behind the letter, "S"!!  Just kidding, of course - though not about Face Time. 

I called or sent notes to those for whom I had contact info, then wrote a thank you note and took it to Dos Locos this afternoon.  I personally thanked those present, and posted the "thank you" card & note for those coming in tonight or tomorrow.

The restaurant was very busy so I only stayed long enough to get caught up with a few staff members who've just returned from Christmas in their own country with their families. And, of course, had to view the photos and videos of their trip, too.  That was the fun part. Oh, the magic of the iPhone!!!

Aside from the infectious possibilities, it's kind of embarrassing to walk around with that mask on while everyone stares at you.  Of course, I could slouch over, cock my head to one side, and drag one leg across the floor like Igor in some monster flick.  "Yeth, Mauthter."  Hey!  That's a thought…

I have to decide what I want to cook for the New Year. Traditional Ham is out of the question.  Too salty for me anymore.  I already have the blackeyed peas, rice, and kale.  (Yes, I can have fresh kale if I scrub it well, and braise the s**t out of it.)  Maybe a rosemary seasoned, broiled pork chop will work out nicely.  I'll decide before tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow, I have labs at 9 am, followed by an appointment with the oncologist. So, if my BC is low it may mean another afternoon of transfusion - yes, New Years Eve.  I don't feel bad today, but that doesn't mean the numbers aren't low. We shall see.

There is nothing on my gay agenda for NYE anyway, so it makes no difference at this point.  The only potential problem will be if I need transfusions and get out too late to shop before the market closes.  In which case, the New Year dinner will be whatever I have the energy to throw together.  You know, like the rest of my life right now. 

I do want to spend some time at the restaurant once more tomorrow.  There's an old saying that those you spend time with on NYE will be in your life in the new year.  Aside from the staff there will be regular customers visiting for lunch, as well. 

I don't want to take any chances.  I do want this year to be over.

And so it goes.

*

A Shot, Another Shot, And Then Some.

Mask off, sitting in front of me.  Hate it!

Awoke feeling sluggish and somehow a bit off-center yesterday.  Dizzy and light-headed (so what's new?) with no appetite. Struggling to snap out of it, I downed 2 cups of strong java to no avail. I knew I had to get moving, but it just wasn't happening.  Somehow I needed have the prescription filled or the pain would become unbearable.

I called the Center, described the symptoms and was asked to come in to be checked out. Could I drive?  Yes.  As long as traffic was light and no need to be ultra-alert, I thought I'd be OK.  There was no one to call, in any case, so there it was.  

Without knowing what the Center had in mind - or what the diagnosis would be - I chanced a stop to drop off the scrip before the appointment. I needed those painkillers and since narcotics must be signed for, there was no choice.

Well, it seems that even with the already high dosages of B-12 I must take, the lack thereof was part of the problem. I needed a shot, was given the injection, told to relax and enjoy a coffee and chocolate muffin.  I did.  Both "tasted" great.  Yes, I could actually taste both.  Very strange after so long without working tastebuds, and very welcome indeed.

An hour later, feeling much more like myself, vitals were taken and I was sent on my way.  The only item on the gay agenda was the painkiller scrip and a few grocery items to hold me over the holiday.  Done in no time, I was about to start the car when a text came in from the Locosguys asking if I could come by for a visit. I thought I would beg off, but thought it might be medicinal.  

My peeps. Servers, Cooks, Bartender.  The Best!

As I was about to reply, he sent another text reminding me that there were holiday cards awaiting me and a few customers having lunch were hoping to see me. I replied that I was "on the way"  It took 20 minutes (holiday shopping traffic made for slow-going) to get back into town, less than 2 miles away. 

The afternoon was the most enjoyable and festive I've had in a long time. It was a happy time spent with staff and the customers (those already here for the long holiday week) as we sat in the bar area making up for lost time, playing catch-up on my life and theirs. Out of nowhere, the Locosguy appeared with a tray full of shot glasses.  These were to "taste" a new cocktail concoction he just created called "chocolate covered pretzel" - many were skeptical.  Not I.  No sir. I was ready for something salty, tasty, and strong (how I like my men!) and the shots were passed around.

The obligatory toast was made in my honor and down they went.  OMG!  So smooth, so chocolaty, and salty. Exactly like a chocolate covered pretzel.  Honestly. My newly revived tastebuds thanked me profusely for the pleasure, as the fun continued. 

Somewhere along the way I mentioned (while discussing mixology in general) that I loved B & B and had not tasted it in many years. Well, before you could say "Holy Shit, Mary - It's a Girl!"  3 glasses of the powerful elixir appeared before me. Holiday and Get Well cards stacked in front of me, which I was told to open on Christmas morning and think of the senders.

Four hours later - with 2 Chocolate Covered Pretzel shots and 4 B & B drinks making a home in my belly - feeling warm and grateful, I headed home. Reluctantly checked the mailbox and was delighted to find nothing offensive from any Gub-mint agency waiting to ruin the perfectly glorious afternoon.

Went to bed with the warm glow of friendship both inside and surrounding my body. Slept like a baby (of course the painkiller helped) and woke to partly cloudy skies and warm temperatures.  May rise into the 70s today.  I'll take it. 

A text arrived a while ago reminding me that Sunday is the birthday of one of the Locosguys and there'll be surprises and cake. And a "please come if you can" at the end. Well, if the state of physical and mental well-being continues for another day, you can be sure I'll be there. 

Happy group sans medical mask. Good time.

(Sorry about the photo quality. They were shot with the Locosguy's iPhone 5, which I've been told takes far better pictures when the photographer hasn't been imbibing.)

And so it goes.

*

Straight Up & No Chaser? Sue Me!

The phone calls to the powers-that-be regarding the programs I may be eligible for basically went  into the dead zone. No one there; in a meeting; no option to leave messages.  

Tuned that out on the short drive to the Oyster House and focussed primarily on a pleasant lunch meeting  with Barb, celebrating her 71st birthday, and Ron (the Gossip).  It was a nice time.  Turns out, they both love gossip. No, I won't go there. Never understood gossip.

Am I becoming a social butterfly, or more of a moth to a flame? I am drawn to nice, intimate gatherings like these.  Besides, I don't have to be concerned about the damned mask. 

The short walk to the car and drive home in the chill, rain, and winds made the Raynaud's visit inevitable.  Two fingers on each hand and both thumbs were greenish white with no circulation or feeling whatsoever. 

The mailbox produced (among other things) another two envelopes; one from the hospital and yet another from the Division of Health & Social Services. Both were soaking wet and neither was opened. Another envelope larger than the mailbox caused the lid to remain partially open to the elements (as in rain water!) so everything was soaked through. Junk mail was tossed directly into the recycle bin while anything of dubious value was brought in to dry.  They remain damp, soggy this morning.

The ache and stinging of the numbed fingers made it impossible to perform even the simplest tasks. Warm water had no effect; there was no change in colour or sensation.  Even those chemical hand-warmers from L.L. Bean had no effect. They just burned the other parts of the hands.  

Couldn't operate the microwave, the mouse, or feel the keys on the keyboard.  My grip was tenuous at best. Frustration, no end. 

In desperation, I knocked back a shot of Jameson's then poured a bit into a plastic cup for sipping.  Well, guess what?  It worked.  The shot sent a rush of warmth through my body and within a few minutes, the colour was returning to the extremities.  Eventually, the feeling returned, as well. 

The effect was nothing short of miraculous and the accompanying buzz was an added bit of lagniappe. It never ceases to amaze that expensive drugs used to relieve the pain and discomfort of diseases like Raynaud's are less effective, or not at all effective, but a bit of Irish Whiskey does the trick - the only side effect is a damned good one.

(The drug initially prescribed for relief caused more damage than anything else: cotton-mouth, swollen ankles and wrists, dizziness and sore throat. I stopped taking it and refused anything else. Not worth the additional discomfort.)

BTW, This is the same Jameson's bottle gifted for Christmas last year by Linda (the wee Irish Lass) and I can't wait to tell her about this episode. Of course, she believes Jameson's can cure anything. Maybe she's right.

Warmed up red beans and rice for a quick winter supper as I spent some time on the creation of the little altar for the tiny cypress tree.  The tree now has a large rose quartz  candleholder companion. Photos will follow shortly. 

The lovely buzz lasted through the meal, and bedtime shower. When I slid under the blanket it was all over.  Remember nothing until I woke this morning.  I could use more restful nights like that.  Thank  you very much.

Light snow is forecast for the day, which means we could get several feet. Flakes (present company not included) are beginning to fall. Blood work and another few rounds with the doctor is on tap today, too, but I believe I am up to the challenge.

I must be extra careful not to aggravate the Raynaud's today. Perish the thought of having to ingest another Jameson's shot this afternoon. Teh-heh.

And so it goes.

*