I kept myself busy today. They say it helps to ease the pain and loneliness of being without my partner and pal. Golf lesson this morning, then the follow-up meeting for the hospice bereavement group (It was at the same time as my lesson, I arrived when everyone was leaving.), a guy from the city came to do an inspection in the basement for installing sump pumps that will keep storm water out of the sanitary drains, or something like that, all I know is that it won't cost anything. Mike called, and we had a nice conversation; slowly but surely I'm learning about bees.
There was an article in the paper today about Vada Murray, a UM football player who became an Ann Arbor police officer. He recently died of lung cancer. He was in top physical condition, and never smoked a day in his life. His widow is suing the city, claiming that radon and asbestos insulation in the basement of the police station where he spent many hours were the cause of his cancer. I often wonder that about Gwen, she quite smoking 35 years ago. An interesting aside in the article was a statement by Dr. Kalemkarian, a doctor we often saw for second opinions at the UM Comprehensive Cancer Center. He said that Vada, who lived two years after he was diagnosed, lived three times longer than could have been expected. Gwen had essentially the same diagnosis, and she lived almost five years. Pretty amazing. Of course, none of this really means anything, no matter what the cause and treatment, she's still dead. Gee, that sounds cold, but sometimes there's no other way to say it. I've never been one for euphemisms. You can call it poop all you want, but, when all is said and done, a shit sandwich is still a shit sandwich!
Tomorrow I'll pack for my flight out to Denver to spend a few days with Jeanne and her family. Wish you were here to help me and then go with me, sweetheart. I need you to send some poems my way, I'm feeling pretty dry and empty.
There was an article in the paper today about Vada Murray, a UM football player who became an Ann Arbor police officer. He recently died of lung cancer. He was in top physical condition, and never smoked a day in his life. His widow is suing the city, claiming that radon and asbestos insulation in the basement of the police station where he spent many hours were the cause of his cancer. I often wonder that about Gwen, she quite smoking 35 years ago. An interesting aside in the article was a statement by Dr. Kalemkarian, a doctor we often saw for second opinions at the UM Comprehensive Cancer Center. He said that Vada, who lived two years after he was diagnosed, lived three times longer than could have been expected. Gwen had essentially the same diagnosis, and she lived almost five years. Pretty amazing. Of course, none of this really means anything, no matter what the cause and treatment, she's still dead. Gee, that sounds cold, but sometimes there's no other way to say it. I've never been one for euphemisms. You can call it poop all you want, but, when all is said and done, a shit sandwich is still a shit sandwich!
Tomorrow I'll pack for my flight out to Denver to spend a few days with Jeanne and her family. Wish you were here to help me and then go with me, sweetheart. I need you to send some poems my way, I'm feeling pretty dry and empty.
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