Monday, March 11, 2013

It's a Train Wreck Isn't It?

Yesterday the husband and I got out of the house. We had no idea of a destination. He drove while I warmed the shotgun seat. I like this arrangement as I get to gawk a lot and end up never knowing exactly where we are as I'm not driving so I don't care. I know he will get me home.

Our first leg of our little trip took us right into the downtown area of Lafayette. The azaleas in the beds alongside the streets that curve and wind through the downtown were in full bloom. And smoking.

We passed down Jefferson Street and just before reaching the underpass, a huge cloud of smoke obscured the street, the stench of smoke was smothering. What is burning? Is it the bushes?  We were approaching a red light which was directly above and to the right of this smoke. My first thought was a car was on fire and the fear of an exploding gas tank caused my blood pressure to spike. The husband halted and stayed back from approaching the red light. As soon as the light changed, we charged forward through the smoke which by now was thicker and more pungent.

I picked up my cell and dialed 911. I was put through to the fire department and was told if it was the fire on Jefferson, the fire trucks were on their way. These words barely left that operators lips when a fire truck came charging onto the scene, fire fighters erupting from both doors of the fire engine and the game was on.

We sat at the stop sign for a few minutes to watch then moved on.

At the next stop sign, the husband said "Ya think there is any mail in that basket?"

"What basket? What are you talking about?"

"Look down." he says and that's what I did.]

Sitting on the street barely missing the wheels of this Dodge was a US Postal Service basket. The ones that the carriers sort their mail into as they drive from postal stop to postal stop. I slipped out of the truck and picked it up. Empty as expected. Not wanting to be hauling around government property, I stepped to the curb and placed it against a light pole. Someone will find it and return it to it's rightful place and I won't have to become more familiar with that operator at the 911 station.

We continued on our trip.

The last time I bought new pajamas was when I was having my knee replacement. A fresh gown was purchased for that hospital stay. Something easy on and easy off.

It was time to do it again. That old gown is now stained around the neck with the hair coloring I've used, the pockets are sagging and the color has worn off the snaps that hold it together. I'm quite the well dressed woman after dark wouldn't you say?

I suppose what I purchased if a sexy slinky thing could be called a peignoir set but in this instant, we'll just have to call it a gown and robe. It's cotton which takes the zip out of sexy. A straight shift, short sleeved, soft green in color with miniature stripes on the diagonal and of knee length describes the gown part. The robe is of the same color but in a floral pattern and again in cotton.

Today will be a very busy day for me. My first order of the day is to get the blood work done so I'll be at the lab at 0800. The Cancer Center will be calling to announce the tests they have scheduled and the times. I'm sure the remainder of this week will be filled with getting everything ready for what is to come next.

I have  my moments of losing it; the Klonopin is nearby should I need it. Thankfully my doctor was concerned enough to call and suggest I take his advice and get the prescription filled.

We are taking this one day at a time. We really have no other choice. The husband wants it to move along quickly. He wants it cut out. He wants to know that everything will be alright. We all do.
I'm off to get out of this "not so sexy but oh so comfy" gown and robe...I have things to do.


  1. I think it's the waiting that's the worst thing really. Once treatment gets underway you may start to relax a little, knowing that the journey has begun and the finish line is in sight...because it will be in sight...and you will beat this. xxxxx

  2. Yes. The husband wants it started so he can anticipate me being through this.


Comments are moderated to prevent spam posters. Leave a comment! It's nice to know you visited!