Situation Report #16

WE'RE BACCCCKKKKK!

Did ya miss us?  We missed you.  We have started hearing from people, "No news is good news...right?"  Then, when Dave the owner of Mission Hill Creamery stopped by today with three delicious pints of his organic ice cream, to check in, I thought I'd better get people caught up.  Dad does love the ice cream and the thought that if we lay low he might bring more just to check in, did cross our minds.  Alas, that would not be becoming. SO...

SORRRRRY!  WE ARE INDEED STILL HERE.

There is so much going on in the coming months, you will tire of us.   Here is a "prelim" to the show starting at the end of this week.  Yes, this is a drama.  Who are we kidding, it might end up a dramedy.  This family can't help it.  

Dad finished his 6th and final round of KIMO!  It was a punch, but no where near a knock out.  If there is one thing that I have personally gained from this situation.  It's this. 

I used to think CHEMOTHERAPY just looked like this:

He who should not be named

  Come on admit it.  So many of you think the same thing.  Well, I've got news for you.  It can also look like this:
 

Fishin' with Hubba

                               

 

Bench time

Hubba knows bait

Learning to catch grasshoppers

The COMPLETE family photo

Dress up!

Captain of the fryer.

The proud son and General Mom still barking orders.

A Cabin Thanksgiving with neighbors

"I'll sing you a true song of Billy the Kid..."

Moms birthday with all the grand kids

Chocolate and Love the world is whole.

I knew my dad was strong.  Hell, let's get real, he acts like a wolverine that can't find anything but plants and berries to eat; which has served him well these last few months.  The only thing I can think about is dad on the kimo drip for hours at the doctors, eating out of a giant sack.  Candy bars, chips, a burrito, olives, some crudites with dip and all washed down with a pot of coffee and a couple Cokes.  Meanwhile, the patients around him just staring perplexed.

DAD:  "CHIP?"
FELLOW PATIENT:  "Umm, no thanks." 
DAD:  "OLIVE? SNICKERS?"
FELLOW PATIENT:  **blank stare** 

Of course, I walk away for a few hours and come back to dad holding court.  His eyes are twinkling blue.  The air in the room seems lighter than when we walked in hours earlier.  He is smiling from ear to ear and so are others in the room.  They've been Eddied.  Dad don't use up your energy on people you will probably never see again I thought.  How selfish of me, he needs them.  A social animal, nothing like the aforementioned wolverine.  Perhaps I should change my comparative animal?  Nah, a wolverine. Just one that ate a caribou that afternoon.  

Last week dad took every test and poke possible.  This Wednesday they go over the results up at Stanford.  Is dad still a candidate for a STEM CELL TRANSPLANT?  If yes, then he will be hospitalized on Friday morning to get prepped and then zapped with a largest dose of  kimo yet.  Released in time for his 65th birthday on Monday, December 12th.  Then we start asking St. Nick for stem cell production to increase.  

Nerves are high around here.  Does this feel like Voldemort all over again?  That's right.  I just dared say his name.  
         

BRING IT ON!!!