the 47th week

66 years and countin'!

2012 has not been the year for well-paced blog posts, and May has definitely been, at least for me, the worst month of 2012 thus far (fingers crossed that the resolution to this "health issue" won't just open the door to many more worse months). The doctor thinks it's a minor infection, and I'm staking my hope and prayers on that. I can't imagine coming down with something debilitating, and the very thought of it has cut to my heart like that swordfish that leaped out of the water a couple years ago and speared a camera-woman through the stomach. Intense, I know. I was going to try and recap all the developments with the whole "lymph node" thing, but instead I'm just going to do it day-to-day. Here's the 47th week since my move down to Cincinnati:

Monday. I went to Mount Echo for a bit before closing 600 Vine with Amos. When we got back to the house, Isaac was on the front porch, and he had some of his home-brew with him. We hit that up and enjoyed the sunny evening. When dark fell we watched "Game of Thrones", and Isaac passed out on our downstairs sofa. John & Brandy couldn't make it tonight, and that made me sad.

Tuesday. Amos and I closed together, another slow day. Kyle S., good friends with Amos and Andy, is in town for the week, crashing on one of the basement sofas. I went to the Starbucks in Mariemont to write on the patio, and when dark fell I hurried home and drank NyQuil and went to bed early in preparation for opening shop tomorrow morning.

THE ANCHOR'S 66TH ANNIVERSARY. Tiffany and I opened together, and I'm thankful to say that this Wednesday went far better than last Wednesday. But, then again, I couldn't imagine--nor do I want to imagine--how last Wednesday can be topped; and yet I know, one day, that it will be topped, and that thought terrifies me. I went to The Anchor after work, and they were giving away free slices of German chocolate cake in celebration. The Anchor's anniversary is a holiday worth celebrating, at least for me. That quaint diner has become a staple of this chapter in my life, and when this chapter's ended, I'll remember that place fondly. Dylan flew out from the U.S.A. on his way back to Mozambique: he'll be back in a year and a half, and I look forward to that reunion.

Thursday. I did Food Prep this morning, since Ana has Thursdays off. The tips are nice, and I don't mind chilling in the back and doing my own thing with my IPOD going; I cranked out Damien Jurado today in anticipation of seeing him in just over a week. I ran some errands up in Clifton, next to the Deaconness Hospital, and then I tagged along with Ams to Kroger. Brandy brought Amos home from work, and we all perched up in my room and hung out while listening to Band of Horses. "You need more Noah and the Whale," Amos said, since he likes Noah and the Whale and also listens to my IPOD when doing dishes. I went on a frosty run to Wendy's, and Ams & I played "Dead Island" on Blake's PS3 before bed. Well, I played "Dead Island": she doesn't like playing it alone, gets scared, but loves to watch.

Friday. Amos & I closed together, and I spent the evening in northern Kentucky, driving around aimlessly, winding around the airport, and I had an amazing milkshake from the Steak & Shake there that has a Drive Thru. Panic hit me later on in the night, paranoia regarding all that's happening to me medicinally: I've been on Keflex for several days now, and the lymph nodes are starting to hurt and not going down, and despite not smoking I've had some difficulty breathing.

ANDY'S 23RD BIRTHDAY. I woke early and ran to the bank, and I ran by a friend's house in Colerain and Andy, Amos, Kyle S. and I grabbed Dusmesh for lunch. It was Kyle's first time, and he was floored by how delicious it was, as is to be expected from most newcomers. I took a massive nap and then did some writing at The Anchor. The evening was spent drinking with the whole house in celebration of Andy's birthday. I started to hurt all over, and this sent me into a full-fledged anxiety attack. I left the house and went for a drive to try and cool off, and I managed to. I've been living in a constant state of stress, and this has been fostering my paranoia, and I fear that in time it won't just be stress that's defining my mental state but simple, unbridled panic. 

Sunday. I went to The Anchor to do some serious introspection--"That place is your office!" Andy exclaimed--and then I hiked up to Southwest Church in south Dayton and went to the 2nd service with Mom and Dad. Mom went to her cousin's, and Dad and I got lunch at Smashburger. I told him how I've been seriously considering a Master's in business (or "an MBA in Business," as I put it to Dylan; that there might be a red flag), and he had some really great input, being a heavy-hitting guru of sorts in that arena, and he thought I'd be really good at Marketing. Honestly, I think he may just really like Mad Men a bit too much. These last several days have been hard as hell, and I've come to see, yet again, how blessed and privileged I am to have the family that I do. Dad asked me, knowing my history, if I was surprised at how much I wanted to live following the whole Lymphoma Night of Hell. "Absolutely," I said. We like to think we'll great the End with dignity, with brave and stoic faces, but as the screams of the dying on the battlefield seem to indicate, such is rarely the case. At one point I thought myself to welcome death; but facing it (at least in my own mind) taught me otherwise. Life is a precious thing, a gift, with an End and a Beginning, and I don't want to squander it, I want it to mean something when the epilogue rolls to a close.