More Treatment, With Occasional Digressions
I haven’t posted since last Wednesday, Gentle Reader, and I do apologize for the delay.
Thanksgiving was absolutely wonderful, as it usually is in my family in New Jersey. For approximately the forty-second year in a row (honest), I went to my brother Gerald’s house and ate really great food and sat around with the people I love. My sister and her husband were in from Tucson, my newest baby grandniece made her first family appearance, and a good time was had by all.
(Digression -- Saturday was another family day. I had come home Thursday night for treatment and work and then returned to New Jersey Friday night. The event was the scattering of my parents’ ashes at the Jersey Shore.
My father died in 1988 and my mother died less than a year later in 1989. They had wanted to have their ashes scattered at the beach, where they sort of met and where the family had spent it summers. In typical DeBenedette fashion, one thing led to another and we hadn’t gotten around to it.
My sister Susan finally put her foot down and insisted on doing this since she would be back East. She was the impetus for this finally getting done and I thank her for it. She even had a beautiful photomontage of my parents done, showing their wedding photo and a later shot of them. My brother Mike and I chose some readings and we were all set.
The only minor hitch is that we were all pretty sure that trotting onto the beach in New Jersey and tossing human ashes into the wind may be, if not illegal, at least frowned upon. So, we decided to keep the group small and the readings short.
Keeping the readings short was easy. Keeping the group from growing all out of hand was not. My parents had four kids, three of whom have spouses. Two of these children each have two children who are already adults. Two of those children have spouses and children. Already, we are up to a gaggle of people. Then my uncle, my mother’s last sibling, was invited. Then the news about this ceremony leaked (ahem, was mentioned) to a couple of cousins, who also wanted to attend. It ended up that we had seventeen people, including three children. This represented four generations, which was good.
We met at the beach. My brother Mike, who must have some experience on how to avoid being noticed by the law, said that we would do the distribution of the ashes and then the readings. He and my brother-in-law Rob went about halfway down a jetty and opened the boxes that held Mom and Dad and found that inside these boxes were nicely sealed tough plastic bags. Who knew? Mike got the bags open and bent and put the ashes into the water, and he and Rob came back to the beach. We read the poems and the prayer we had selected. It was beautiful. Then we all went out to eat.)
On Friday, it was back to treatment. Yes, the treatments are starting to get “same old – same old,” which is probably a good thing.
Actually, I am feeling nothing. So far, I am not getting any changes on the skin of my face, although I still have the very last vestiges of the black eye from hell, which might disguise them. I have not lost any hair. The thought crossed my mind that maybe the whole thing is an elaborate hoax and nothing is happening to me. Maybe I just lay on the table and the technicians start a buzzing noise and stand outside snickering.
Today, however, I finally noticed something: a smell. When the machine was buzzing, I smelled ozone, sort of an electronic “hot metal” smell. Dr. Kaul, who is Dr. Han’s partner, and Mike the tech said that some people report a smell like that.
Dr. Kaul said that I might feel more side effects this week because I will have five treatments in a row this week and next week. I now have something to anticipate.
Thanksgiving was absolutely wonderful, as it usually is in my family in New Jersey. For approximately the forty-second year in a row (honest), I went to my brother Gerald’s house and ate really great food and sat around with the people I love. My sister and her husband were in from Tucson, my newest baby grandniece made her first family appearance, and a good time was had by all.
(Digression -- Saturday was another family day. I had come home Thursday night for treatment and work and then returned to New Jersey Friday night. The event was the scattering of my parents’ ashes at the Jersey Shore.
My father died in 1988 and my mother died less than a year later in 1989. They had wanted to have their ashes scattered at the beach, where they sort of met and where the family had spent it summers. In typical DeBenedette fashion, one thing led to another and we hadn’t gotten around to it.
My sister Susan finally put her foot down and insisted on doing this since she would be back East. She was the impetus for this finally getting done and I thank her for it. She even had a beautiful photomontage of my parents done, showing their wedding photo and a later shot of them. My brother Mike and I chose some readings and we were all set.
The only minor hitch is that we were all pretty sure that trotting onto the beach in New Jersey and tossing human ashes into the wind may be, if not illegal, at least frowned upon. So, we decided to keep the group small and the readings short.
Keeping the readings short was easy. Keeping the group from growing all out of hand was not. My parents had four kids, three of whom have spouses. Two of these children each have two children who are already adults. Two of those children have spouses and children. Already, we are up to a gaggle of people. Then my uncle, my mother’s last sibling, was invited. Then the news about this ceremony leaked (ahem, was mentioned) to a couple of cousins, who also wanted to attend. It ended up that we had seventeen people, including three children. This represented four generations, which was good.
We met at the beach. My brother Mike, who must have some experience on how to avoid being noticed by the law, said that we would do the distribution of the ashes and then the readings. He and my brother-in-law Rob went about halfway down a jetty and opened the boxes that held Mom and Dad and found that inside these boxes were nicely sealed tough plastic bags. Who knew? Mike got the bags open and bent and put the ashes into the water, and he and Rob came back to the beach. We read the poems and the prayer we had selected. It was beautiful. Then we all went out to eat.)
On Friday, it was back to treatment. Yes, the treatments are starting to get “same old – same old,” which is probably a good thing.
Actually, I am feeling nothing. So far, I am not getting any changes on the skin of my face, although I still have the very last vestiges of the black eye from hell, which might disguise them. I have not lost any hair. The thought crossed my mind that maybe the whole thing is an elaborate hoax and nothing is happening to me. Maybe I just lay on the table and the technicians start a buzzing noise and stand outside snickering.
Today, however, I finally noticed something: a smell. When the machine was buzzing, I smelled ozone, sort of an electronic “hot metal” smell. Dr. Kaul, who is Dr. Han’s partner, and Mike the tech said that some people report a smell like that.
Dr. Kaul said that I might feel more side effects this week because I will have five treatments in a row this week and next week. I now have something to anticipate.
posted by Valerie DeBenedette at 3:12 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home