Day 29, Tuesday, February 26th, 2013

Last night, I had the room all to myself, and I slept like a baby.

You know, that is an utterly terrible aspiration for sleep. Babies wake up crying all of the time, because hungry, because pooped self, because baby. Scratch sleeping like a baby; I slept like a puppy: instantly asleep, dreamt of chasing things, occasional legs twitches, tiny woofs. That is much, much better than sleeping like a baby.

I roused myself at my normal time (which turns out to be about seven am) showered, ate, and waited for Mom and Dad. I got a call from them around nine, and then they came down for breakfast, since my room was where all of the food happened to be. They ate, and then we proceeded over to the SCCA for my regular weekly meeting with my PA (Kerry) and my current doctor (Bensinger. It changes, monthly.). On the way, we gave dad a quick tour of the neighbourhood, including a stop for americanos at Vivace. Dad is iffy on espresso, but he seemed to like it anyway. I personally do not understand being iffy on espresso. It has all of the pleasant effects of coffee (and the bitterness that most people don't seem to realize is important about coffee), and almost none of the unpleasant effects. To wit: alertness and elevated mood without sweating, increased urination, or laxative effects. Espresso is the daywalker of coffee.

Kerry gave us a pretty good rundown of the current situation (and I'm not just saying this because I gave him the URL for this blog, Hi Kerry), most of which I actually summarized in yesterday's post - the upcoming doctor scrum and the potential outcomes. I was happy for Dad to finally be able to hear this stuff straight from the proverbial horse's mouth, as it always makes more sense the fewer people it goes through, as opposed to our usual game of medical telephone. "What do you mean, he has cancer of the purple monkey dishwasher?"

When the meeting was over, it was most definitely lunchtime, so we left the SCCA, and went to the aptly named Consuming Choices, the buffeteria in the Arnold building of the Fred Hutchinson research centre (we've been there before, but I don't think I have actually mentioned it by name). I had a sammich. I like sammiches. Afterwards, we returned home to the SCCA House, to move into a larger suite. Gone, gone the bottlenecked hall, the boxy surrounds; home, now, opens outward. By degrees, an arc. In form, liken it to a wedge of cheese that one may habitate (but with less cheese smell, and also less cheese). The new room is on the corner of the building; except that there isn't really a traditional corner - the building curves gently instead of sporting the usual ninety-degree pivot - so there are two larger rooms on each floor, for long-term residents and disabled patients. My shower has a chair in it, clearly for contemplative activity.

Afterwards, mom and dad went on marketplace missions, and I stayed behind for reasons of writing, talking to girlfriend, and video games, but mostly so that they could have a little more time together.

We hung out for a while upon their return and then took dad to the Lunchbox for supper. Holy crap, I have been there a lot, and holier crap, I am not tired of it at all. I have discerned their best burger: it is the Upstate New Yorker. Also, Tater Tots and garlic mayo; these are important things.

A jumper cable walks into a bar, and the bartender says, "I'll serve you, but don't start anything."