...which of course stands for "What Would Ada Do?" Lately that question has been rolling around my largely empty head quite a bit. What would Ada do? When Ada passed on October 1, 2009 (Can it really be almost three years?), I not only lost a friend, partner, and beloved wife; I lost my most trusted advisor. Ada was my "life editor", whose counsel impacted everything from what would go well with this turkey sandwich to how I can improve this adverb lesson to am I being funny here or just nasty. I would say that during the 41 years we were married, Ada was asked to read every single thing I ever wrote, from the most serious paper to the silliest doggerel. She never refused.
Foolishly, I didn't always take Ada's advice. Male pride and all that. How desperately I wish it were available to me now. Lately I've been flying blind.
Cancer has insinuated itself upon my family once again. Never has a guest been less welcome. I mean, hell, we gave at the office. I would sooner welcome 10 Jehovah's Witnesses, 12 insurance salesmen, Josh Beckett and Rush Limbaugh into my home than this nasty group of renegade cells. My older son, Josh, is the proud owner of a stomach tumor that is causing him and his wonderful family no end of grief, discomfort, and, especially, worry. Josh has reluctantly agreed to play the host for this arrogant intruder for the time being. But come early December, Josh and some surgeons from Boston's fine Brigham and Women's Hospital have a little surprise in store for our ravenous little friend. I shouldn't give it all away now, but I will tell you that scalpels, very sharp ones, are involved.
And this is where W W A D ? comes in. As I clumsily try to help Josh and his family cope with their new reality, I can't help but think that Ada would have added a large measure of grace to these efforts. No one, and I mean NO ONE, ever accused me of having grace, amazing or otherwise. I have spent the past two weeks trying to be helpful as Josh started the laborious and tedious business of evicting his tumor. First he had a port and feeding tube inserted into areas which had previously been missing all types of medical devices. This fairly simple procedure turned into a week's stay at the hospital as Josh couldn't shake his nausea. Both Cindy and I spent many hours sitting with him as he tried desperately to curl up into a tiny ball and disappear. When he faked feeling better just to get out of there, he then had a five hour chemo infusion followed by even more nausea. During these 10 days, he was able to eat or drink almost nothing. Never have I felt so useless. I'm quite sure Ada would have found the right words to pick up Josh's spirits during this miserable time.
All I could contribute was "Hang in there." What a dork!
Thankfully, Cindy and the nurses persisted in their search for the right combination of anti-nausea meds and Josh is past all that as he prepares for his second of four chemo infusions.
This stage is scheduled to last two months or so. After much discussion and soul searching, I have decided to head back to Florida for now, with the goal of returning during Josh's second phase of treatment which will involve daily doses of radiation and chemo. Again, how I would have liked to bounce this "plan" off Ada and get her take on the strategy. W W A D ?
For now, I'll just have to conjure up her advice as often and as well as I can.
Speaking of advice, here is some of the wisdom I have gleaned after two weeks and 3,000 miles of travel:
1. If you're going to depend on the kindness of friends, as I have done, be sure to pick friends who have great water pressure. I am so fortunate to have wonderful, hospitable friends with shower heads that rival a Brooklyn fire hydrant. You know who you are. My hard to reach nether regions thank you.
2. If you can work it out, buy gas in South Carolina.
3. Chain restaurants like Applebee's and Ruby Tuesday may be boring, but at least they're mediocre.
4. Driving 500 miles by oneself will test one's sanity.
5. I failed.
6. Despite the presence of Lehigh University, Bethlehem, PA is the most depressing city this side of Kandahar. All those abandoned steel mills.
7. Getting a little closer to my grandchildren will be the only "benefit" of this entire episode.
That, and watching my son Josh get well.
Hang in there, everyone!
Ain't life grand?
J
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