I couldn't complain about the musical taste of the driver who took me to Boston yesterday because,
1) It wasn't my car
2) He wasn't my kid
3) It would have sounded old-ladyish to ask him to turn the radio down, and,
4) I knew he wouldn't have received it well if I had asked, "Could we listen to NPR instead of to rap?"
But he seemed to understand when I asked if he would change the station when a singer wailed, over and over, "I miss my dog, I miss my dog, I miss my dog!"
I told him I loved my own dog very much and it upset me to hear those words.
Of course I also can't complain because the ride was covered by insurance and I got to doze on the way there and back. It was a one-day excursion to Brigham and Women's Hospital for me to check in with one of my slew of doctors, a gastroenterologist, who I see now and again for follow-ups on my graft vs. host of the digestive tract. I wondered if stomach problems that I have had for the last two weeks were related to a flare-up; he said that it was hard to tell and that it might just be a virus that is taking its time. If I am not better in a week I will probably be facing another endoscopy. I wonder if it is from stress.
He is one of the rare doctors who runs on time.
As usual, I brought enough reading material to last for hours.
When I was called on time, I was careful not to say, as I did at my last visit in a similar circumstance, "I think I might faint!" As you can imagine, the nurse at that time looked at me in alarm. Not a good thing to say in a doctor's office.
I was tired when I got home, even though I had slept in the car. Not a good kind of tired. I put on my running clothes because in the not-to-distant past even a short jog would have perked me up. But then I remembered that I had decided the running gods were telling me to stop because I have been unable to find a new version of the neutral trail-running shoes that are the only ones Ken Holt likes for me.
The peanut gallery and even Dr. Berger, an avid runner who until recently asked me when I was going to run the Saint Patrick's Race again, have said that especially with the graft. vs. host, my body might not be able to handle it any more without injury. Actually Dr. Berger said I probably couldn't run the same distances as before, which is not the same thing as totally stopping. I think I would be happy with just a couple of miles a few times a week, starting with a walk-run instead of just running like last time when I re-injured my toe.
I called the Northampton Running Store, where the real runners work, including Northampton's own Nancy Conz, and explained my dilemma, which is that Ken Holt hates most of the shoes that I buy.
She said she knew of his reputation for toughness and added, "Ken Holt needs to come into the store to see what we have."
What they have sounds promising, so tomorrow I might just go up there to take a look. Perks me up to think about it.