About 2:oo today, I talked with Gary. He sounded vastly stronger than he had in late August or early September, the last time I’d heard his voice, and cheerier than I think he’d ever been.
He said treatment ended four or five weeks ago. It was far worse than the illness had been, in terms of pain, weakness and general shittyness. If that illness crops up again, he said, or any such disease affects him, if they can’t cut it out, just let it go. H says, he won’t go through that again. [Many people have told me that re: chemo and/or radiation. Medieval physicians couldn’t have caused more pain. Renaissance priests of course were a different matter.]
He still can’t leave the house or have any social life, because the treatment left him with no immune system. So he sits home, talking with his pussycats (teriffic for obtaining a sane, balanced outlook on life) until his wife drives up. Sometimes his kids drop in. All in all, it sounds like a paradise of domestic tranquility. Why he would want to leave it is a mystery to me.
But he does. To be certain, I asked him if there were any fingernail marks on the insides of doors. He didn’t answer me, a sure sign. He’s going to see the doctor next Tuesday. As soon as she releases him to get the fuck out of there, he’s coming back to work. I warned him of the Incentive Package, to lessen the shock to his immune system. He took it under advisement.