That Christmas Eve eve

   Dorothy was leaving that evening, December 23, 2003. She often stayed over, but she had to be home that night. I wasn't feeling well, but she told me I'd be okay.  I'd been sitting in the chair by the door and at  about 11 o'clock, I got up to go to bed. Dave had already retired for the night. When I got to the hallway, I just sank to the floor. I felt sick and couldn't move. Dave was near panic, but he called M. who then lived just down the road. . She arrived in short order, and decided we should go to the Emergency Room. We went to Saratoga Hospital because I had just finished the last of the chemo and radiation  treatments a few weeks before, and thought there might be some carryover  with the oncologist. There wasn't though; when you're finished, you're done, except for the required checkups.

   We got to Saratoga late that night. The emergency room was in an uproar dealing with a woman who was tripping out on something, so there was a delay. Dave had thoughtfully brought a blanket and pillow, thinking I would be lying down in the back of the vehicle enroute to the hospital, but I sat in the front seat. I would have felt worse lying down. So Dave made use of that equipment. He went out to the vehicle to take a nap. After all, he had already gone to bed that night. 

  When things settled down, the young nurse and M. also young then engaged in friendly conversation, each acknowledging they had not gotten the flu shot. The flu was rampant then but they felt young and invincible. The doctor, whose name was similar to Dr.  John Bonjovi,  came to the room and said I was positive for the flu, strain A. I would be admitted unless I chose to go home, which I did. It was almost Christmas!  He said I should avoid others, especially the young and when he found out how young my grandchildren were, one  2 years old and  the other only a few months, he said to have no contact with them. So I was housebound that Christmas. Dave was here, of course, but he went to whatever were the festivities. M. brought me an array of sickroom goodies. I remember enjoying the butterscotch candies which I hadn't known came in rolls like Lifesavers.

   So I think of Barbara maybe being alone this Christmas, or maybe not. Who knows.  

  I watched most of Homeward Bound this evening. Probably the best of television broadcasts this year at least. Just when I thought artistry and decorum were non-existent, I realize I  was wrong and felt humbled by the performances. I have long thought Sound of Silence may be the best song ever written, but his other works are equal. So off to Graceland we go.