Tennis Therapy
My father and I snuck out of the hospital today and played an 80 minute set. I won bringing my lifetime record to 2-176. But I’m 2 for my last 6 and with him rapidly approaching 74 and my new Babolat raquet I feel my best days are ahead of me.
Mom’s cancer has me far more familiar with Washington DC traditions than I have been in years. How could I have forgotten about the joys of playing in 100% humidity? When we returned drenched in sweat, the receptionists and candy stripers gave quizzical looks. Who walks into a hospital looking like they just left the gym?
Meanwhile, the doctors have finally figured out that Mom’s narcotic cocktail was creating some discouraging side effects. Nobody wants to feel pain, but having cancer doesn’t mandate a trip on the Magical Mystery Tour. Our conversations made me flash back to freshmen evenings in the woods at Hampshire College.
With some reductions, she’s considerably clearer. There is light at the end of this week’s tunnel. Hopefully home for the weekend.
Notes
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