Welp.

2020 is starting out a bit rough.

Generally speaking, February is my least favorite month on emotional terms. God help me if it's any worse than January. I'm ASSUMING it won't be but then again, you know what they say about assuming.

My eyes are a bit less swollen this morning. That's ANOTHER thing about aging….used to be I could cry and after a reasonable amount of time feel and look human again. No more. A day of tears on and off and I become a puffy, head stuffed mutant for days. Is it just that I'm drying up and those tears are valuable? Damned if I know.

Ernie is in the nadir of his first chemo treatment…meaning this should be the worse of his symptoms….before the next one anyway. He's not terribly nauseous but is exhausted. He dozes on and off throughout the day and doesn't want to eat. He's having problems staying warm too. He's wrapped up in fleece and blankets all day. I know I'm being too solicitous, asking him how he is and what he needs far too often. I'm trying to restrain myself. 

His next treatment is on February 3 and on February 6 he will FINALLY get his PET scan. You know the one, that if Health Alliance had authorized when it was first requested in October could have prevented some of his symptoms. The tumor would still have been there but we would have been able to go after it sooner before it started causing symptoms. You know, my father worked in the insurance industry for a time and he just hated it. Later, when he had Alzheimer's and we were trying to get him to go to an adult daycare program he decided it was all a front for the insurance industry. That kinda made me smile. Lord, I miss him.

Anyway, he'll finally get his fucking PET scan. Turned down in October, requested again on December 30 with a clear rise in his PSA…and yeah, not until February. So much for a baseline. Oh, FUCK THE WORLD.

O.k.

Here is the last song David Olney did at our most recent house concert with him. Thanks to Anne for reviving this video for me.

I'm gratified to see the attention his death has received…..the BBC, the Washington Post, NPR, CNN, etc., etc. although of course it feels so hollow in comparison to the man himself.

Only David Olney could have pulled off a death both dramatic and graceful. My favorite headline from a Dutch paper…. ‘Singer David Olney dies in armor’ – the Frisian newspaper ‘Leeuwarder Courant.' (Thanks to Jan Zijlstra).

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Armor.

Good lord, I need some fucking armor.

Onward.

 

 

One thought on “Armor

  1. His flashing eyes, his floating hair …. have you tried giving Ernie some honeydew and the milk of Paradise to combat that chemo?

Thoughts?