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Jan. 10th, 2012 04:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coyotegothI'm at Bobbi's; cancer being the capricious thing it is, I was actually able to have a conversation with her yesterday. Getting here was an adventure: I didn't sleep the night before (I rarely do before traveling), and even though the plane trip(s) here were fine, there's the fact that 1) I hadn't slept, 2) her home is about 90 miles from the airport, and 3) I've driven all of twice in the last 10 years. (Hiring a car and driver would have been prohibitively expensive; I wasn't about to ask Darin to either come and get me, or call around asking for a favor on my behalf.) I picked up the car at Asheville airport; took a cautious lap or two around the parking lot, hooked up the GPS I'd rented, and headed out.
Almost immediately, there were problems: it was raining seriously; the passenger side window, which I'd lowered in order to adjust the mirror, refused to raise again; the GPS's data projection was lagging, and the near complete lack of road signs down here wasn't helping. It got to the point that I found myself exhausted and near hysterics, heading toward downtown Asheville when I should have been heading *away* from there, and totally convinced that this had been a horrible mistake. Finally, in desperation, I pulled into a gas station... and the woman there explained how if I were to simply cross *this* intersection and take *that* right turn, I'd be right on I-26... with a straight 85 miles ahead of me, taking me right to Kingsport. I do this; the GPS pulls itself together; I even manage to get the window up (about 10 miles from their house, and after getting cold water in my face- which actually helped keep me awake- the whole way there). I don't think I'll ever forget chewing red licorice to keep my blood sugar awake, blasting the radio and singing along, doing math calculations in my head to figure out how long it would be to their house.
Darin (who has a full beard now) came out to greet me when I got there, we chatted for a moment... and we went upstairs. Bobbi was conscious; her voice was raspy... but I had believed in my heart of hearts that she would be dead by the time I could get down there, and here we were; an unimaginable gift. At one point, Darin went to get Bobbi's daughter Morgan (I was on the verge of drowsing off by then), and Bobbi and I were talking. Her memory is no better (although she hasn't had a seizure since I've been here); mostly, she and I talked about high school, and the days when we first knew each other. (She remembered several incidents from high school that I'd forgotten; memory loss is a capricious thing.) We sat there, and talked about the future, and the past, and whatever else one talks about at such a time. At one point, I was crying, and finally said, "It's weird; I don't know what to say." "That's the good thing about this," she said. "You don't have to say anything."
Almost immediately, there were problems: it was raining seriously; the passenger side window, which I'd lowered in order to adjust the mirror, refused to raise again; the GPS's data projection was lagging, and the near complete lack of road signs down here wasn't helping. It got to the point that I found myself exhausted and near hysterics, heading toward downtown Asheville when I should have been heading *away* from there, and totally convinced that this had been a horrible mistake. Finally, in desperation, I pulled into a gas station... and the woman there explained how if I were to simply cross *this* intersection and take *that* right turn, I'd be right on I-26... with a straight 85 miles ahead of me, taking me right to Kingsport. I do this; the GPS pulls itself together; I even manage to get the window up (about 10 miles from their house, and after getting cold water in my face- which actually helped keep me awake- the whole way there). I don't think I'll ever forget chewing red licorice to keep my blood sugar awake, blasting the radio and singing along, doing math calculations in my head to figure out how long it would be to their house.
Darin (who has a full beard now) came out to greet me when I got there, we chatted for a moment... and we went upstairs. Bobbi was conscious; her voice was raspy... but I had believed in my heart of hearts that she would be dead by the time I could get down there, and here we were; an unimaginable gift. At one point, Darin went to get Bobbi's daughter Morgan (I was on the verge of drowsing off by then), and Bobbi and I were talking. Her memory is no better (although she hasn't had a seizure since I've been here); mostly, she and I talked about high school, and the days when we first knew each other. (She remembered several incidents from high school that I'd forgotten; memory loss is a capricious thing.) We sat there, and talked about the future, and the past, and whatever else one talks about at such a time. At one point, I was crying, and finally said, "It's weird; I don't know what to say." "That's the good thing about this," she said. "You don't have to say anything."
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Date: 2012-01-10 09:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-10 11:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-10 11:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-10 11:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-10 11:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-11 12:34 am (UTC)*hugs*
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Date: 2012-01-11 01:53 am (UTC)I had a road trip a bit like that once, in which one of those godawful instant-attack colds got me fifteen minutes into a two-hour drive on the Beltway; I had a station wagon full of furniture and there was a torrential rainstorm and I was constantly wiping snot on my sleeve. The Volvo hydroplaned twice on the way over, but I made it finally - to discover that my friends at my destination had put a candle in the window for me.
There are candles in all our hearts for the journey to go well for you and she.
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Date: 2012-01-11 02:43 am (UTC)