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Serious News and Random Blather Got some bad news last night. Dad's been diagnosed with prostate cancer. We got home last night to find a short and urgent message from Mom on the answering machine. Called them up and got Dad, who explained the whole deal to me. No one panic, okay? Everything's all right. Well, not 'all right' exactly, but it's as good as it can be, under the circumstances. There is a history of high blood pressure, strokes and diabetes in our family, all of which means that my Dad, foresightful fellow that he is, has regular and comprehensive medical exams. They caught this early, and I'm talking 'only-one-out-of-ten-biopsies-showing-cancer' early. As much as I'd like to, I'm not going to go into a lot of detail about his condition in these pages folks. This is my Dad and I'm not going to open up his private world for everyone without being sure it's okay. For once, everything around here won't be just about me. How's that for a change, eh? Before you ask, yes, I am scared. Hell, none of you would believe me if I told you otherwise, right? This is a big shock to us all, my Dad most of all. But I'm not worried, if that makes any sense. When it comes to cancer, all you ever hear is how important it is to catch it early. And that's what happened. The prognosis is excellent; a tentative date for surgery (if that's the option they go with) is set. Find it early; act decisively. So while my lizard brain wants to freak out at the news, the parts of my brain that do the actual thinking know this can work out jut fine. And in this matter, my lizard brain is securely leashed and caged. As he should be.
Enough serious talk. Here, let's talk some silly stuff to get your minds off the subject.
Conversation with Lisa this morning:
I had a really weird ass dream last night. First off, it was the most real dream I've ever had. It was utterly convincing and precise. I also learned I dream in color. I never knew that before So (in the dream) I'm up at like five in the morning to go to the washroom and when I come back, the top sheet of the bed is all in a bundle in the middle and I can't see the bottom fitted sheet. All there is is a big naked mattress with a pile of blankets in the middle. I'm like, 'What the hell?' Lisa's voice comes out from the pile. "It's okay! Hang on!" she flops the bottom sheet out from the under the pile, upside down, so the fitted corners are all poking up into the air, so the sheet looks like it's curing up on itself. I get in bed and find that she's making me sleep head down. My pillows are at the foot of the bed and everything. I'm like, 'what the hell? Let me turn around!' She's all, 'no way' and I'm all angry. I lie and fume for a minute, and then I haul myself out of bed. "I'm up," I say grumpily and head for the shower. She protests, but doesn't follow. Then everything goes gray. Next thing I know, I'm waking up (for real) in bed. I told Lisa about it. She wanted to know if there are some repressed feelings I'm not telling her about. I said no. What do you think?
Finally, in office renovation news, they've started putting up some art on the newly painted walls. Good, since it's not like they included any windows or doors to break up the wide expanse of coral-painted plaster. Sports images too. Shots of runners and mountain climbers and Xciting Xtreme stuff like that. Tiger Woods is over by the cafeteria, and a big shot of Donovan Bailey is down the hall. Weird thing is each one is tinted different colors. So while the Michael Jordan by the men's room is blue, the Anna Kournikova by the accounting department is red/orange. Makes me feel I'm working in the Gatorade head office.
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