Well, it's been an interesting 48 hours.

Yesterday James went to his first dialysis treatment at the clinic. He went off with a book, his baby laptop, and his tablet, to see what was the best thing to suit him. He came home upset and angry because of the cath and sitting still for four hours and feeling trapped. Let's say we both had a meltdown. Let's also say this is one of these natural things that happen when you face serious medical conditions. But it wasn't a happy evening. He spent most of it miserable, and I spent most of it crying. Dinner tasted like sawdust (it wasn't that good anyway, but if James had been in better spirits he could have improved it). I finally put on the new version of Swallows and Amazons that I recorded off the Starz preview. It looked beautiful—the Lake District is so gorgeous!—and I loved Tatty (yes, Tatty, they had to change her name because apparently today's kids and adults can't get through a character named "Titty" without sniggering like an uncouth teenage boy) and her keeping the ship's log, but they made the kids incompetent: they lost the food, they argued, etc., which they did not do in the book; their parents allowed them to go camping on their own because he knew they were capable. This was even worse than the rubbish spy plot they threw in. Also, Nancy Blackett didn't look a thing like I imagined her.

I think James slept some; I kept waking up and finding him sitting at the edge of the bed, wrapped in one of  his blankets. I woke up calling for my mother at least once and disoriented other times. He got up at seven and worked for two hours and then he had to go to a doctor's appointment that ran an hour late. This was a pain in the ass because we were heading up to Helen today for Atomicon. When we finally got released we had to race back home to pick up our things and load up the animals (who are going to "camp" and also getting their checkups) and drive to the veterinarian's office, and after what seemed like an endless check-in, we finally got on the road at 3 p.m. Luckily there was little traffic going north, although we were delayed stopping for gasoline and then for lunch at the slowest Wendy's ever. In relief we arrived at 4:45, and Aubrey and Jessie were nice enough to help me offload.

The rest of  the day was great. We sat and talked to Jessie and Aubrey and Shari and Caran, and then Juanita and Alice and Ken wandered in, and eventually we all got together and walked to Catch 22, a gastropub. The food was iffy. James and I both ordered steak sandwiches. I couldn't eat mine; the beef was heavily peppered. Even James noticed, and he likes pepper! I ended up with a salad instead. Juanita's fish (with chips) was overcooked and the coating too thick. Now, Shari and Terry enjoyed the steak and mushrooms they had (and the cheesecake, too), and Jessie liked her barbecue mac and cheese. Nevertheless, the company was great, and a small group of us sat around at the hotel talking afterwards.

Our crowd is a little smaller this year because a couple of folks cannot come due to illness. We are lucky we made it ourselves, and tomorrow is not our own.

Doggedly we will continue.

Labels: food, friends, illness, pets

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 10:44:00 PM

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