The Best / Worst Lists

    Now that we're past the halfway mark in P.'s treatments (yay!), I feel we've logged the requisite time and experience to pass judgment on the best and worst features of what we've been dealing with to date.  I'd like to end this post on a positive note, so let's get the top five not-so-great items out of the way first:

    Worst List # 5:  Shopping just isn't the same here.  How's that for a trivial-sounding issue, given that we're here dealing with the Big C?  I know I'm coming across like the Princess and the Pea on this topic. But, while I don't give a fig about shopping in general, cooking and beading are my release valves for this pressure cooker we're in right now, so I'm longing for access to the same range of foodstuffs and bright shiny beading objects that I can get at home.  For example, there doesn't seem to be a tornado crimp within a hundred mile radius, and the region's lack of the world's most magnificent grocery chain merits an entire post of its own, coming soon.

    Worst List #4:  There is a lot of cleaning to be done every single day.  I knew that would be the case, given the more-or-less communal living situation we're in and that fact that everyone here is dealing with cancer.  Some of the folks getting treatments just aren't up to doing much housekeeping, of course, and their family members are often dealing with overwhelming caretaking duties.  Others, less burdened by illness, simply weren't raised by my particular mother (i.e., the Majestic Goddess of Universal Cleanliness).  So, along with a couple of others here, I'm logging in a lot of hours with the scrub brush and the bottle of disinfectant down in the kitchen, trying to keep things hygienic, especially for the stem-cell transplant patients.

   Worst List #3:  Schlepping back and forth to the hospital over and over again.  It takes us 37 minutes, door to door to get from the lodge to the Really Famous Hospital by public transportation, and it's about the same by the shuttle.  So this really isn't a ridiculously long ride.  It's just that the doing of it each and every day Monday through Friday is getting seriously old.

    Worst List #2:  It's cold, really cold, outside and it pretty much has been this way for the entire time we've been here.  If this stint in treatment far from home had landed us here in June and July, we probably would have been griping about wasting the few short summer months in the aforementioned treks to the hospital.  But at least we would have have been able to go for leisurely walks among this city's lovely neighborhoods and parks while we were complaining.  As it is, we're not walking in a leisurely manner at any point; we're dashing through the frigid February outdoors trying to get inside as quickly as possible.  As I type, it's 22 degrees outside.  You skiers out there may be scoffing.  Go ahead.  I know I'm a wimp.

    Worst List #1.  We're here because of a brain tumor. 

    Ok, you're sick of hearing me kvetch and so am I.  Here then, is my list of the top five good things about being here.

     Best List #5:  We love the art museum that is a just a mile or so from the lodge.  In a city famous for superb museums, this one is a standout.  We go every Wednesday evening, when admission is by donation only (yes, we do make a contribution--we're not complete freeloaders).  We decided at the outset to start at the beginning and work our way forward chronologically, so we commenced with the Old Egyptian exhibits and went on from there.  In our four visits to date, we've made it through the Etruscans, the old and new Greek exhibits, the old and new Romans, and we're partway through all things Asian.  Simply awesome stuff, especially the Greek vases and the Chinese ceramics.  However, if we're going to make it to the rooms with the contemporary work by the time P. is done with his treatments, we are definitely going to have to pick up the pace.  Since art that was made five minutes ago is one of my special pleasures, I am motivated to keep going.

    Best List #4:  We have a place here at the Hope Lodge.  Some people now at the lodge previously had to stay for some length of time in random hotel rooms while waiting for a room here.  They report that it was as gloomy and as isolated as I feared that type of housing situation would be.  I continue to be thoroughly grateful that we are here for the whole of P.'s treatment regime, even if I am sort of the Cinderella of the kitchen (see griping above).

    Best List #3:  My cousin has been a wonderful friend and native informant here.  Since L. has lived in this city for 20-plus years, she has deep expertise in what is worth going to and how to get there.  A special plus is the fact that we share many of the same interests and preferences.  I should mention, too, that she has been fabulously patient with us, even when we keep calling her for help when I break things (e.g., a tooth, my glasses).  She always has good suggestions for how to find an expedient remedy.  She is a discerning restaurant guide; we've had terrific Thai and Indian meals here, both very high on my list of great cuisines.  And she's been good company during a complicated time in our lives.

    Best List #2:  P. continues to be experiencing few side effects.  Having gone through 19 treatments now, he's had plenty of time to watch for the potential bad by-products of having a particle accelerator pointed at one's head Mondays through Fridays.  But, so far, he's doing great.  His doctor says that, since he has made it this far this well, we might sail through the rest of the treatments just fine.

   Best List #1:  The doctors say to expect a complete cure.  And so we are.  

   Bonus Item:  I do know how to bead without any tornado crimps whatsoever: