Chapter Twenty-One
I wasn’t exactly looking forward to Monday morning, no, not in the bitter cold of a sun-shocked January day. But it had to be done, I guess. The physical that shoots my heart rate up into the nethersphere of some place that makes the nurses look at you funny over the tops of their eyeglasses. Two words: Sinus Infection. Apparently I had had it for some time. The problem is, I like to imagine that I’m made out of steel. Impenetrable. Impervious. In a word – Indestructible. So the diagnosis of “sinus infection” might as well be handing me the black spot.
“It’s actually a chain of swollen lymph nodes.”
A chain?
“Sinuscinoidphlipicolophis.” [Not actual name.]
What?
“I’ll do anything I can to avoid taking it out.”
Taking what out?
Maybe I clapped a hand around my throat. No one’s taking anything out. No way. Fortunately I – and The Bear – quickly realized that my doctor was the kind of guy who warns you about eye cancer when you’re three and a half. He tried to smile though, after he had prescribed a list of antibiotics, antihistamines, and nasal spray as long as California. Well.
“But the lymph nodes aren’t hard, so that’s good. You know, as long as they’re not like… like this…”
He flipped my hand over to press against the little sapphire in my ring…
Oops. Guess I’d better tell Rose she should go to the doctor after all…
“I’ll see you in two weeks.”
That one was high on my list. The Bear was perfectly fine. As usual. Well, at least one of us is.
Because the day had changed several times around, The Bear found his day working at home canceled, due to several mandatory meetings in Clayton. So I joined Puck at the house where he had been busy collecting “junk” as he called it from the basement while Francis played the new Flight Simulator. I’m guessing he considers that work, though. The fire was kicking out some good heat in the living room. Dad was home for the bank holiday. Everyone needed groceries though, including my own little family, so Mom and I did the honors after dropping Linnea off at the bowling alley for some volleyball-related spirit party or something.
Puck had survived an hour or more of afternoon and fast food with Francis while I was away. He finished his episode of PBS Arthur while I caught up with Francis in the AE green shirt in the living room. Somehow after discussing Coldstone Creamery…
“I had an ice cream cupcake there the other night while Zuñi was at AWANA. Those things are a mess.”
…after which he had driven the old back roads of wine country by his lonesome, we ended up on the subject of infant baptism. But when Carrie walked in the door from her flight physical, we only had a few minutes before it was time to go again. First Dad hauled in a fat log to add to the fire. He and Francis then began debating whether or not it would fit into the stove. Dad said no. Francis said yes. After some determination, and a few attempts, Dad won the argument.
We needed Costco, too. First we dropped by The White Hare. Mom and Carrie were hunting greenery and bunnies for the new living room arrangement, now that the piano had hit the bricks. A heavy aroma of cinnamon and things blasted us in with the frigid wind. By this time in the afternoon, the sun had been wiped out. The digital sign on the funeral home read twenty degrees as we zoomed towards New Town. Mom had dishes to pick up from Aunt Tuuli back from Christmas. As we approached the creepy outskirts of the isolated society, Carrie told me about the Midnight Pruner that had been busy attacking peoples’ trees there in the night. By this time, I was spinning through a light daze. Two poor nights of sleep and a decent lack of food – that’s the recipe. Costco. I was at least aware enough to remember yogurt, raisins, sweet peppers, tortillas, and the few other things on my list. And I thought The Bear was the one who didn’t handle lack of sleep well. Home Goods for silk topiaries. I was now awake enough to note the heavy red and yellow porcelain horses on one shelf, which I liked. 18 degrees on the funeral home sign now. Our last stop was a swing by church to drop Mom off at the office for her four o’clock Life Team meeting.
Puck had been fully entertained all day long. He was ready for work.
“Want some help?” he asked boldly, marching up to Carrie and myself in yellow boots and too-short brown corduroys.
I dropped the baton with laundry this week. He followed me out to the car where I handed him a box of salad and several other items to sit on top.
“Is that too heavy, bud?”
“Nope. I’m a strong man, Mom.”
The pile spilled out of his hands as he walked in the door…
“Didn’t balance that so well…” he mumbled to himself.
When he returned for one of the milk jugs, he heaved it through the garage door.
“I didn’t know that liquid would be so heavy,” he said importantly.
I munched sweet potato chips in the dining room with Joe. Something to kickstart the system again. He had been helping with a promotional animation at Vanbuskirk’s with Izzy. Logos designed in salt, chocolate, and coffee beans. The remains of a half-eaten hard-boiled egg, a container of salad, and a saran-wrapped cheese still sat by my laptop. [Linnea trying to be healthy.] Francis was getting in a few more hours at work before his midnight fast started. Surgery was at one o’clock the next afternoon. Dad was purchasing and dropping off Grandma Snicketts’ groceries a day later than scheduled. Plans for 65-inch LCD screens in the living room. Carrie pulled together big cheese ravioli and salad for dinner and arranged Mom’s shelving and topiary on the walls for her. Puck caught one last form of entertainment for the day in the form of “Mr. Rogers Neighborhood”. He planted a few kisses on my face in between everything, excited about the “junk” he collected throughout the day, excited to see The Bear after work, and excited on the ride home to explain to us about how his baby brother in Colombia was doing and how he would be born, and…
“Whew,” came the determined voice from the back seat of the car. “I need to give my mouth a break now.”