Tres Robertos! Bob Cubed! Bob, Rob, Robert . . .

Saturday, Feb. 13, 2010

First of all, a HUGE "ROCK ON" to those of you who have submitted entries in the Caption Contest so far! FUNNY sh*t, peeps!!! I KNEW you had it in you! Wow . . . what you all have come up with blows my crummy little idea out of the water, so much so that I'm ashamed to share it. (Okay, I will: It was, "Here's to you, U Brew!" Thank you very little . . .) Keep 'em comin', as we all know that laughter is the best medicine, but we don't know yet what the winner will receive! Until we do, why not take a chance, huh?!?

This picture was taken on my morning walk with Rocco today, before I went to the U to see Bob. Thick frost on the trees, sky heavy with fog, sun piercing through the dense veil . . . a true winter wonderland. Breathtaking. At first, I cursed the electrical wires in this photo, then I felt they added a cool element to the grey, black, white of the image. Bob would be proud.

Bob had a few visitors at Club Chemo today—people whose titles don't end in "-ologist" or "Jen" for a refreshing change. Bob P. and Bob D., colleagues of Bob's in the wine biz. I so wish I had been there—I know I would not have shut up for a minute about three Bob's (hmmm . . . apostrophe or no?) in the room: "Three Bob(')s walk into a hospital . . ." for starters. Okay, maybe it was better I wasn't there. . .

I stayed home this morning because I already knew that at least one of the Bob's had told Bob he was going to stop by for a visit. I wanted Bob to have some time alone with his friends, to catch up, do whatever it is that guys do when chicks aren't around. (Okay, all these Bobs are seriously confusing the hell out of me . . .y'all with me so far?) I got a lot of stuff done around the house: loads of laundry, walked the dogs, cleaned (with Penny and Jim's help before they took off—a humongous THANKS!!! You two are sofa king fabulous!!! Sorry, had to say it . . . please don't demote me from Favorite Daughter-in-Law status for the potty mouth!), worked out, cleaned out the fridge, returned phone calls, e-mails, wrote some thank-you's . . . I finally headed out mid-afternoon back to the U. I arrived as one of the Bobs (not mine!) was leaving. Was so nice to see him, nice to see someone connected to Bob's real life here in the city, someone who has a history with him, who knows him on a personal, rather than medical, level.

When I entered Bob's room, his room was darkened. He was lying in his bed, eyes closed. I leaned in to kiss him, he opened his eyes. He apologized for dozing off, told me he had a great afternoon, first with his parents, then with the other two Bobs. I told him to go back to sleep; I could read a magazine or entertain myself with my uber-cool iPhone while he slept. He dozed for a short while, but his IV kept beeping; air bubbles, empty bag, time for a new drug, another transfusion. Eventually, the interruptions ceased and I let him sleep, read a magazine, fiddled on my phone. Maybe a half hour later, he woke again, seemingly refreshed and alert. He told me he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. He hadn't had much of an appetite since then, but was starting to feeling hungry. Hospital food's finally wearing him down. Bob's nurse brought in a three-ring binder full of local restaurant menus, so we dug through them, and finally decided on the Village Wok, a U of M legend for Chinese cuisine. After calling in the order, I trotted off to pick it up which was a whole three minutes away from the hospital. I think just getting out of the hospital took longer than getting to and from the restaurant.

I wish I could leave a glowing review of the Village Wok, but the legend of the Wok is just that. A legend. So-so food, not bad, but not good. Veggie fried rice was bland, uninspiring. Bobs spicy garlic chicken, same. Very saucy, but not in a good way. My spring rolls were okay, but nothing was worth writing home about. We picked at our food, talked a bit more until Bob finally pushed his food away and lay down. I know the signs: eyes close, breathing becomes heavy, slower, voice slurred. Time for me to go. He opened his eyes long enough to say goodbye, kiss me a few times, then lay his head back on the pillow and was soundly sleeping.

I made this little sketch of Bob on an app on my iPhone called Sketchbook Express. I call it, "Bob Sleeping." Sketchbook X is fun little app where you use your finger and chose a number of "tools" to create works of art. My husband sleeping is a work of art.

Valentine's Day, 2010

Bob was discharged from the U tonight. Just in time, as a new patient was being rolled into the room while Bob's nurse was going over his discharge orders. I was taught how to flush his PICC line, to be done daily to keep it clear, as they'll be using it in the coming days when he returns for the next round.

A very nice Valentine's Day for us—home together, a bottle of montepulciano (for me), green bean Tater-Tot hot dish (for Bob, mouth sores are back), Neil Young softly crooning on the radio, dogs hanging out in the background, light snow falling softly outside. Happy VD, everyone!