Hazy summer days

Tiny tablet under the tip of the tongue. Everything has a heat shimmer. The whole world wavers. Today is another day of anxiety. I woke up at Adam’s house. I promised Emily and Peter I would push my bike home from Emily’s house. Ativan and alcohol do not mix. I could have broken my promise and tried to ride but instead I badgered Adam until he let me in. I sat on his couch, then placed myself face down on his bed, stretched out like a star and I stayed like that until morning.

Adam made me breakfast. When Adam makes you food, you get a lesson in cooking. How to barely cover the potatoes with water, how to smash and coarsely chop the garlic that will simmer with the potatoes. How to cook the spinach in butter and lemon juice and how to mix them together at the end with lots of salt.

When I came home my eyes were crying again. I need to go to the pharmacy to pick up my medications for chemo and I need to go to the bank because I lost my bank card and I need cash but I can’t leave the house because even with the little pills, the tears keep falling. But Jodi is home and she will ride her bike over and pick up the prescriptions and buy me a coffee and Shea will buy me a tomato and yellow plums.

I clean the house because work looks like foreign papers. I listen to Revolver with headphones because that album is meant to be heard inside your head. When I take the garbage out, Finn and Elliot are playing in the sprinkler and I run through it a few times and Finn teaches me the proper way to jump afterwards. I invite the boys in to see the kitten. They play.

Tomorrow is chemo and I might cry through the whole thing. I ran into a friend last night and he was wearing a shirt I remember from four years ago when we were lovers. I thought how can you still have that shirt when everything has changed but I didn’t say it out loud. I said good luck in Ottawa.

And then I walked my bike to Adam’s and thought it was good to have friends who will give me their beds and thought I am proud of myself for sticking to my promise to Peter and Emily.

 

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About Alicia Louise

I'm a writer, editor, fact checker, storyteller, events organizer, chronically busy yet endlessly lazy, mildly neurotic (though I keep the neuroses well-hidden, one hopes) 32-year-old with recurrent ovarian cancer. I like people and good writing and straight talk. I have a hard time feeling sorry for people, including myself, but the people that I love, I love passionately; one may even say creepily. I try to keep that mostly to myself. I'd like to be charming, but I'm usually just a mess. I'm like a gull slamming into your windshield.
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3 Responses to Hazy summer days

  1. I’m sorry your eyes keep leaking, and hope they soon settle. Geez, you are such an excellent writer, Alicia.

  2. yuula says:

    it’s true you are an excellent writer. i’m in montreal but would love to hang out when back, if you have some time. xo

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