Friday, December 7, 2007
Green Means Go
Apologies are in order. Three days have passed since my last posting, and that, dear readers, is three days too long. I vow renewed diligence in the face of mounting procrastination. Moreover, I won't let a lack of news deter me from posting; I promise to make things up whole cloth if that's what it takes. You have my word.
With apologies out of the way, on to the main attraction. What follows is a day-by-day accounting since we last chatted.
Contact with A. H. Goodwin and his goodly wife was attempted, though not accomplished, at about 6 pm EST. Although I have no eye-witness evidence to support my assumption, past experience suggests that my Dad laid supine, alternating between putting pressure on his left and right side, for about 22 of Wednesday's 24 hours. Media of the British variety was likely watched, NPR was likely heard.
Mary Joe and I exchanged electronic telegraphs on Thursday. Mary Joe reported that the (understandable) crankiness exhibited on Tuesday had largely abated. This was attributed to spiritual re-centering and a marked rise in the intake of green Lifesavers. Apparently, radiation therapy and foreign bone marrow has prompted a new-found appreciation for hard candy, generally, and green Lifesavers, in particular. According to Mary Joe, the importance of the Lifesavers' color can not be overstated. While orange Lifesavers are begrudgingly tolerated, my Dad's irradiated tongue is apparently hopelessly devoted to the sugary discs in emerald green.
(I, myself, choose to attach great significance to this new development. To me, it seems like fairly irrefutable evidence that progress is being made. His body, or more specifically his taste buds, have come together to signal his physicians and the greater community of Arnie Watchers. With each green Lifesaver eaten, his body is unequivocally saying: "don't stop now! You're doing great! Green means go!" This would also explain the apprehension surrounding yellow Lifesavers and the revulsion prompted by red Lifesavers. Or that's my interpretation anyway.)
Since Wednesay, although I've communicated with Mary Joe across a few different mediums, A. H. Goodwin has remained an elusive target. This is somewhat surprising given the half-dozen IVs and catheters keeping him tethered to the bed. Anyway, on my way home from work this evening -- less than an hour ago -- I was able to reach him directly. On the whole, he sounded like he needed some sleep. Apparently, his non-existent immune system and irritable bowels have conspired to make non-narcotic sleep difficult. And then there's the challenge of finding a way to keep your mind (benignly) occupied when you have, say, 17 or 18 hours a day to burn. In total, then, he sounded (surprisingly) chipper, lucid and (unsurprisingly) annoyed. Like he was in need of some green Lifesavers.
(And remember: green means go!)
That's all I have for the moment. Look for a summary of the weekend, and its candy-related developments, on Sunday.