Not Exactly “Mystic Pizza”


Date: March 18th, 2011

Time: 3:PM

Status: I can hear the weekend coming …

Info:  So another St. Patrick’s Day is behind us and oddly enough I feel pretty much the same way as I have in many past holidays where everyone in the world wanted to be Irish. I rarely, if ever, get hangovers and for those of you that really know me you either (a) know that for the truth, (b) hate me for it and (c) still to this day think I’m bullshitting you. Regardless of what choice you made I do feel like my head got kicked in and there’s still two beautiful Guinness’s remaining. Okay – I used half of one for cooking last night’s dinner … yesterday was just long and this is not a complaint by any sort. I know there are a number of days like yesterday staring the three of us right in the face and you know what? Logan and I are up to the task – without a doubt. Yesterday, just as I was pulling into the grocer I received a call from Bonnie’s sister Carrie. I attended Carrie’s wedding back in 1977 (I think) at St. Mary’s Church in downtown Beverly. Carrie and I have had a number of conversations in the past but none like the one we had yesterday and I really appreciated her concern, particularly on the subject of lymphedema.

When I returned from the grocer I had Bonnie read that section in the Survivor’s Handbook – and right now I’m fortunate to let you know we’re showing no early signs. I loved how openly Carrie talked about her sister and their relationship – particularly with me. I whisked Bonnie out of the Bay State right after we married and we’ve only been back for a high school reunion, a wedding or two, a funeral or two, and a few short years back on ‘the Cape’ where Logan was born, but other than that we’ve been nomads. Living in places like upstate Michigan, Woods Hole and across the Cooper River from Charleston, SC; we’ve certainly put some miles on our wedding license and the beauty of it is we’ve done it all together.

My buddy from the Cape texted me early yesterday morning stating he was at the Black Rose in Boston and wanted to know where I was as if we had some kind of mutual St. Pat’s Day agreement. He called later in the afternoon and we laughed during the entire length of the conversation – Joey and I have always been good with each other – in fact the day we met each other was at The Main Brace in the village of Woods Hole during the 1986 ALCS playoff game between our beloved Red Sox and the California Angels. That was the game Donnie Moore offered up a forkball which Dave Henderson launched into the left field stands. Of course that wasn’t enough and we had to continue drinking through extra innings to watch Dave Henderson belt a sacrifice fly scoring Donnie Baylor with the go-ahead run. Calvin Schiraldi (there’s a forgotten name) wrapped things up for the SOX, then Joey and I enjoyed a bottle of Bailey’s Irish Crème (on the house) by the bar manager – and as Paul Harvey says “now you know the rest of story” … and yes, for you Yankee/Met fans out there – I do remember what happened in Game 6 of the World Series that year – not to worry. That curse has been snapped – twice now. 🙂

So I had two great phone calls yesterday while the Guinness Pot Roast slowly cooked itself into deliciousness and Bonnie must have been on the phone ten times yesterday on her own. This little network we’ve grown has been well-tested and is certainly working to our advantage. My blogging friend, and fellow survivor, Nancy reminds me time and again we are not out of the woods yet and we know that. Truly, yesterday was an eye-opener and I thank my lucky stars we’ve always played and worked together as a team during our twenty-two years because if we hadn’t … well, yesterday would have required a call for help. Two loads of laundry, lunch and dinner and Logan right on time after her swim meet – we CAN AND WILL definitely do this.

In previous blogs from Fridays past I’ve talked about our “cancer-free” weekends. I’m glad we did that during the two month interim leading up to the surgery this past Monday because now the game has changed. The cancer may be gone from Bonnie’s internals but I truly believe the care and recovery has got to be the most important element of it all. I’ve built a makeshift calendar on the laptop as far as her meds are concerned, when to check and drain her “utters” as Bonnie affectionately refers to her drains and a host of other items.

We were so lucky to have our oldest home for the week prior to surgery and now we’re lucky again to have our youngest (and quite capable) home for Spring Break the week after surgery. Our youngest will walk through a wall for you, open the door for you, always says please, thank you, etc., but she still has Cheney blood running through her so her good looks can deceive you – because she doesn’t take any crap from anyone either – but then again, why should she? Why should anyone.

Bonnie just called me to let me know she slept most of the morning, Logan has been keeping her good company and she herself is just now showering (2:15 PM) … tonight is homemade pizza night. I bought the dough and all the fixings yesterday. I think this will be Logan’s third pizza this week :).

So far so good everyone.

Keep her close you guys,

Love,

Paul

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One thought on “Not Exactly “Mystic Pizza”

  1. Paul,
    Glad to hear Bonnie is being well taken care of. Hope each day is brighter and brighter for you all. We will now focus our prayers on keeping the lymphodema away!!!
    Love you guys….

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