Perhaps I'm including too much detail. :) Since this is my 3rd post, and we still havent arrived at Bayside. We went to Bottle Liquor for a hot breakfast sandwich for Tank (per his request) and a salami sandwich for Dan (per HIS request). We rushed to Bayside, because we knew he had chemo that morning.
I dont suppose Sally and I will ever forget the moment we walked into his hallway at Bayside. It might seem like no big deal, but...it FELT like a big deal for some reason. He was sitting in the hallway in a wheelchair waiting for the bus that would take him to chemo. He looked himself, but not. It wasnt a bad thing. Im not sure what I was feeling, other than tremendous love. He was wearing one of his new outfits (navy cotton-knit pants and a gray short-sleeved T-shirt). He was wearing his HUGE white tennis shoes, which is a bit out of the ordinary. He was also wearing a hat. :) A straw hat with a narrow brim. He said it made him look like a gangster. :) Maybe. A summer-time gangster.
He looked so...ready. He saw us right away, and waved as we walked toward him. He was sitting up straight in the chair, and seemed to be prepared for an advanture, and not an ordeal. He was so clean. :) His arms and legs are very thin (it's a bit alarming), and that just makes them look longer. He's all elbows and knees.
He was very eager for the sandwich, and the scratchers. He ate half the sandwich while we waited, and chatted. He seemed eager to get going, but also eager to eat the sandwich. I had a bite, and it was delicious. The very nice bus driver showed up, and he and Tank seemed to know each other. He was a big, friendly, middle-aged guy, who reminded me a bit of Tank. Seemed competent, and treated Tank respectfully, and like a grownup (that matters so much).
Sally and I quickly said goodbye to Tank, and walked with them to the bus out front. As Tank was being lifted up (in his wheelchair), he hollered for a quarter, so he could do the scratchers. :) I ran to the car and fetched one. :) The last glimpse we had of Tank was him sitting in his wheelchair, being lifted into the bus, in his toddler outfit, scratching off the lotto cards. :) He seemed content.
As we drove off, Terry arrived (I hope she made the bus, so she could travel with him). Curtis and Kathleen were in the car behind her. Their plan was to go to the chemo, and then take him to lunch (in the past, he has tolerated chemo very well).
It's very difficult not being there. We'll go back soon.
He is being very brave, and optimistic, and cheerful, and loving. I mean, it's not perfect, and he'd love to be home, and he plans on being home soon, and I hope that's not overly optimistic. He's practical. He seems to know that this is what has to be done, and he's not spending too much time judging it as lousy or unlucky or tragic. It just is. He just takes the steps he needs to, to fix it.
Thanks for all your notes and comments. Kaycee: I think he'd like to receive any baked good from you, made with any sweetener you'd like. :) I trust your judgment. And bless your heart. :) And thank you, Sadie, for considering a Central CA move. :) Over and over again while we were there, Sally and I commented that if you have to visit your sick father, it'd be hard to beat Morro Bay as a place to visit him.
Love to all! Polly.