Monday, February 25, 2013

Sniffle Pipe-Us

Yesterday morning on the phone, C. said, “I’m going to Golden Gate Park today. In fact, that’s where I was going to see you.” He also said, “Sometimes my excitement causes me to forget what I have planned. I wish I was a dinosaur or something because then I could plan more than one thing.”

It was a pretty day out. Lesley picked me up a bit before noon and we had breakfast at Sally’s near Potrero Hill. The crown on #18 broke during the meal, but I am not going to hold that against Sally’s. Then we went to the SPCA and looked at puppies and cats, and then she drove us to Rainbow so we could do our weekly marketing. As we were nearing the SPCA, we saw someone crossing the street with a droopy-eared dog and Lesley said, “Would you like that dog? I’ll get him for you.”

Back at home, I put my groceries away—don’t know when I’ll actually cook again—and walked over to see C. Two visitors were there, and then a third arrived. After they were gone, I read C.’s entire book to him, of which he said, “You help me. By reading it aloud, it makes it more solid. Any changes you recommend?”

I asked him, “If something happened to you in the future, how would I go on?”

He answered, “The easiest answer would be that you would reflect. You would have your astuteness, your experience, your curiosity. You would have your interest(s).” (He specified that the “s” should be in parentheses.) He added, “You would have your daring.”

“Thank you. I wrote that down.”

“I may have more answers in the coming days.”

He coughed once and it sounded phlegmy, and he was sniffling a bit. I commented on the latter and he said, “I’ve got some sniffle pipe-us.” He makes me laugh.

A man came in the room and addressed the nurse and C. became surprisingly agitated, even fearful: “What’s that?” I told him it was just a man saying something to someone, but he wasn’t comforted. He’s been largely free of distress and fear so far. I hope he doesn’t become afraid.

Tom and I had scheduled dinner with Chris and Kristin at Café Ethiopia, and while I felt calm as I walked there from the hospital, when I neared the restaurant, I remembered about being there with C. last May, what a great evening that was. When I got to Café Ethiopia, I cried, and walked a bit past it to the Borderlands Café, which is also full of memories of C., and then I walked back to the corner: ditto. This entire neighborhood is etched with memories of him, both good and bad. So I was teary at dinner and of course Chris and Kristin were very nice about it.

Sad evening.
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