8:52 p.m. Just walked into house from Boston, wondering if I should have Ativan or wine. Go for the Ativan, find something to eat, and sit down to write before I forget what I want to say.
Dueling phone conversations on the way home, my driver nice enough but talking loudly on handheld phone, thank you Greg Pearson for the pleasant conversation almost half of the way home.
Someone called in sick so the supervisor had to drive me this morning. To his right was a computer tracking the 16 cars in this fleet, in his hand was the phone on which he was fielding calls. I said I hoped he would be able to keep his eye on the road and he said, don't worry, he would, but with so many distractions who knows what would have happened.
On the way there as I read the New York Times in the back seat, we had a brief conversation about how most of the news these days is bad. He said he doesn't even listen to the news anymore. We talked about all of the shootings, and somehow we got on the topic of gun control, and he said, "I have a gun and they want to take it away." I had a word or two with him about this.
I talked to Melissa about going to Dana-Farber to get fluids before my procedure to avert the problems relating to dehydration that I had last time. I am still having as-yet undiagnosed stomach problems and waiting for test results. I called ahead to the Kraft Blood Donor Center to say I would be in at 4 instead of 3 and would therefore only have time for five cycles. The nurse I spoke to agreed.
While I was getting the fluids (and a flu shot), Melissa walked over. It is always so nice to see her. She said the first part of my test, the one that was the most concerning, came back negative. She went back to work and I dozed off and woke up with a shock when she said something to me. It was that the people at ECP didn't want to see me at all because I wouldn't be there very long. Melissa and the nurse who was giving me fluids told me they thought that was ridiculous, I would still be there for two hours, and I hadn't come all this way just to turn around and go home. They made their point to the people at the other end, and Melissa walked me over.
Pat, my nurse for the day over there, got the big needle in my left arm, but it must have hit scar tissue because it didn't work. She switched to the right arm and I was relieved to see the blood coming out. They only did three cycles, but apparently even a little does some good.
In the morning, five of us went to tennis at the Canoe Club. It was warm for a while but then got cooler as the breeze picked up and made the ball do crazy things. We had our usual good time, but I got hit with a ball four times. George says it is your own fault for getting hit because you need to get out of the way. That was the case with three, but the fourth was a case of somebody just hitting the ball onto my court. But I made up for it by hitting the ball off two cones and catching a ball in the neck of my racquet, earning me the chance to make a wish.