Journal of a Living Lady  #141

 

Nancy White Kelly

 

 

Today was chemotherapy day, a routine occurrence for me once a month. It isn’t too bad as the drug that is infused into my chest port is filling in the bone where the metastatic cancer is. In my case, that is the spine, the lower part right where you sit. A few days before my treatment, I tend to get more pain than I care to handle. Consequently, when my onc sees me on treatment day, I am always in pain and most of our time is spent juggling pain medications. This time she gave me patches that provide time-released narcotic relief. So far so good. Previously I was taking a liquid version which brought immediate relief, but I feared that my need was becoming too frequent. Turned out I was right. Think of the number 15 and then 160. That is how far my dependence has come.  I am not addicted psychologically or emotionally. Yet, I am physically dependant.  I don’t even know what a drug high is. But I do know what pain is and the most heroic among us can only tolerate so much.

 

No doubt my chemotherapy and oncologist visit cost in the range of $4000-$5000 today. Top that off with prescriptions totaling $567.95. And this was just Monday.

 

While I was at the physician’s office, Buddy was at the car doctor. It seems that all our vehicles decided to go to pot at once. First was the truck, an old, but well-kept 1988 Ford F-150. It had a little antifreeze leak. My Buddy prides himself on keeping our vehicles in A-1 shape. Preventative maintenance has cost us a bundle during our marriage, but I figure at least he isn’t out spending our retirement in bars or in unsavory places. This little anti-freeze repair cost us about $325 because Buddy is getting too old to disassemble major engine parts himself. However, Buddy got a bad deal. As soon as he got the truck home, there was an even bigger leak caused by the mechanic who fixed the little leak. Buddy took the truck back to the mechanic to show him. The mechanic wouldn’t hear it even though Buddy had several eyewitnesses to the fact that oil wasn’t leaking before. Besides, my Buddy is an honest man.

 

When Buddy gets upset, his distressed body reacts. His heart races and his colon goes spastic. Good friends gave Buddy wise counsel. “Get your truck out of there and  chalk up the loss.” Only problem was, because of the dispute, the mechanic didn’t want to turn the truck back over to Buddy until the check cleared. That guy was going to keep the truck three weeks. Baloney on that!  It was a good thing I wasn’t there. I might have bonked that huckster on the head with  my oxygen tank.

 

Buddy went to the bank. He got cash and took it to mechanic to replace the check. Buddy was just glad to get his truck back in our drive-way. Now we will have to pay another $200 to have somebody else to fix that second leak.

 

Then, alas, my 1995 sedan starting chugging up hills and coughing black smoke. We were leaving on Thursday for our Thanksgiving gathering and this was no time for the family vehicle to get sick. In spite of the up-coming holiday, Buddy got an appointment at the dealership and the car is now fixed. Our wallet is another $553 lighter.

 

Never let it be said that the Kellys haven’t done their part to stimulate the economy. But enough is enough. When the chips are down, the buffalo is empty.

 

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nancyk@alltel.net