Such a gorgeous night tonight, past few nights, really . . . I might sleep on the screened deck again, finally, after what has seemed like an eternity of heat and humidity. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, because our summers are gone too quickly and this has been a wonderfully, good-ol'-fashioned hotter 'n' hell summer, the way I remember 'em as a kid. It's just that I don't like being cooped up, with windows closed tight, AC on day and night. I'd much rather have the windows wide open, crickets singing their lullaby to me from all around . . .

Things have been pretty low-key over out here in the boonies, which is good and bad, but makes for very dull writing material . . . still holding steady, no emergency room visits, no hospital stays, nothing to write home about, a blissful reprieve from the first six and a half months of this year. Days get kind of long when we're playing the waiting game, though. . . some moments are blissfully peaceful, like I could live like this forever . . . when I'm dancing to the radio while cooking, or walking the dogs in the morning, or getting Bob's meds together throughout the day, along with his meals, or just lying next to him in bed, talking about nothing and everything . . . but they're punctuated by sharp doses of reality when I say things like, "Is there anything else I can get you, hon?" and Bob responds, in the midst of a wave of pain, "Yeah . . . my old life back . . . "

So yes, uneventful, but no, not without the heaviness that is the reason for the uneventfulness hanging over us, every second, every minute, every hour of every day that passes. . . even my cooking efforts (i.e. "experiments") have suffered . . . I did make a wonderful vegetarian lasagna a few nights back, stuffed green peppers (brown rice, black beans, tons of veggies—tomatoes, corn, onion, garlic—and a sprinkling of mozzarella cheese) last night . . . tomorrow is parmesan tilapia and who knows what else . . . but the fun isn't in it right now. It feels forced, a drudgery rather than the joyful event I've looked forward to every day for the past several weeks. {{{big sigh}}} then again, maybe it's just pms . . .

Uneventful leaves me not much to write about, except for Bob's pain. The pain seems to have shifted, he said, from the back of his leg to up deep in the right side of his butt, and it's intensified, too, to the point where he's been in bed all day yesterday and today, barely able to get up, except to go to the bathroom. If it's this bad tomorrow, we may have to take drastic measures again—I don't know. Up the meds to the scary zombie-doses? (no, no, no, noooooooooo . . .) Hospitalize him early, to work on the pain management? Been there, done that . . .Bob doesn't remember the time, back in May, when his pain got so bad we had to have him hospitalized to get it under control. That was when the PCA pump came into the picture, the zombie-state, an awful, awful time. . . tonight, I read for him the blog entries of that time, and he has no recollection of any of it, can't believe he went through all of that and has no memory of any of it. I said it's probably better he didn't. There's enough that he does remember, that he is still experiencing, than to have to remember those dark, awful days . . .

Lots of phone calls over the past few days, trying to figure out the hospitalization thing. Don't even remember the order, just figured I'd call everyone involved, cover all bases: orthopedic surgeon, colorectal surgeon, cardiologist, primary care, endocrinology (not related directly to the surgery, but Bob has an appointment with them tomorrow, and I had a few questions for them, as well . . .). Then sat back and waited. Got a few calls back yesterday, late afternoon, got the run-around, back-n-forth kind of shit that we dealt with last time . . . few more phone calls this morning, to a few more people, again to Primary Care, "Isn't this why you guys are supposed to be involved??? To be the ones doing all this, not me???" shit, shit, shit . . .

Finally, today, we got official word that Bob will be hospitalized next Tuesday. His cardiologist said he only needs to be on the IV blood thinner three days prior to surgery, not a whole week, as was originally planned. At first, I thought that sounded good, so he didn't have to be in the hospital twiddling his thumbs for a week (and me cooking every day and bringing his food for him the whole time—yes, I'd already planned to bring his meals for him—as if you're surprised! I will not allow all the hard work of these past few months unravel thanks to the shit they try to pass off as "food" in a hospital. The Big Irony of a hospital, I'm tellin' ya. Big ugly irony: sick people being fed sick food.). Actually, I had planned to put a meal sign-up sheet on the blog here, asking y'all to sign up to bring in a meal to bring to Bob every day he was to be in, before and after surgery. Good, healthy meals (didn't even have to be home-made, just not like the overly-processed, sodium-sugar-preservative-soaked crap they serve at the U . . . sorry, I just can't let that one go . . .) but since he'll only be there a few days, I think I can manage (maybe with the help of a family member or two . . .) But then that means he'll be home for a week, dealing with this increased, debilitating pain. A few days is one thing. Another whole week . . .

But back to the food, because I am so damn passionate about this . . .I will get on this soapbox again and again, because it's so critical for everyone, but particularly for someone as ill as Bob—to realize you are what you eat. Period. And for someone like Bob, who has so many strikes against him already—childhood cancer, effects of horrific treatments 30 years ago resulting in heart attacks, secondary cancer, countless other crises along the way—I firmly, wholeheartedly believe that eating well is half (more than half, really) the battle. Eliminating chemically-laden, processed food, easing up on animal-based foods, heavy on the fruits, veggies, grains, nuts, beans (organic, if possible) . . . we're all so quick to take a magic pill (with horrid side effects) or subject ourselves to monstrous treatments, without question, but when presented with the choice of changing our diet, our lifestyle? Something that won't hurt us, and can only help us, yet is so hard for so many to do . . . definitely not saying give up on modern medicine, as miracles abound in the hospitals, at the hands of doctors, every day. But supplementing that with nutrition, good, wholesome nutrition, ups the ante. I guarantee it will help what ails you . . . I've seen it with my own eyes, felt it in my own body, with my own health issues, have seen what it's done for Bob . . . sorry, sorry, sorry, don't mean to be preachy . . . you're lucky, I don't have a lot of fight in me tonight, so I'll step down for now . . .

And, it's late, we've got to get up early for his appointments in the a.m., so I'm going to wrap it up here. Sorry for not having a lot to say ("gee, for not having a lot to say, you sure had a lot to say, Jen." I can read your minds, y'know . . .) Hopefully in the next few days, we'll be at a better place. LOVE! to all . . .xxoo