Secret agent Fred's apartment building is doing some work on his place so he and his terribly sweet cat, Toby, have decamped over here. It's always a pleasure being able to hang out with Fred and it's very amusing to have a kitty back in the place.
Fred has had a very rough year, his cancer keeps hanging around like an unwelcome guest, chemo and radiation were both an important part of his schedule, he wound up with anemia and was so beaten down by it all that he was one of the few people I know who spend more time in bed than I do.
At the end of the summer though, he suddenly bounced back, energetic and in good mood and interested in hanging out with us. It was an enormous relief; this time last year, I was very worried that we would be looking at a fredless future quite soon.
So I have been really enjoying having my old friend back and when he wanted to spend some time up, I was all for it. We had a very amusing couple of days and went out to dinner, things are going great. Until they weren't. On the way home from the restaurant, Fred sort of collapsed and wound up puking all over the sidewalk and staggering back to the apartment. I thought I would have to carry him and wondered if instead I should just call for an ambulance. The whole gastrointestinal storm blew up in just a moment, but had real lasting power.
The poor old thing spent all day in bed yesterday and most of today. My nursing prowess tends towards asking "how are you feeling?" over and over as if I could harang the patient into feeling better. I try to imply that they are letting me down by not recuperating fast enough. Knowing that that is, oddly enough, not helpful, I restrain myself instead and just ask what they need and occasionally offer aspirin or tea or ginger ale or plain rice. Late this afternoon, Fred got up and accepted my rice idea and is now ensconced on the living room couch.
Having gone through these peaks and valleys several times with R Man, I know there's really not much for those of us on the sidelines to do other than just hold on and hope for the best. When you're sick there's just not a lot anyone can do for you. Anyway, at the moment Fred is doing better so I'm just going to enjoy a dinner of rice with him.
Guys:
Sorry to hear about Super Agent Fred. You are quite right, there is very little one can do in such circumstances but just be there. Nice pussy! Jx
ReplyDeletePS Speaking of similar, #6 and #8, please...
I wish there was more to do, it would be so much less frustrating.
DeleteSorry to hear about Fred. Hope he recovers this bout quickly.
ReplyDeleteI hate throwing up. Go to great lengths not to. Feel better when I do.
Isn't that odd? Even knowing that as soon as you give up and puke, it will be better, you still grind your teeth and try to hold on.
DeletePoor Fred! I hope he soon feels like a Super Agent again. (He's lucky to have such a nurse as Hot Lips Peenee.)
ReplyDeleteAnd Toby is the perfect accent for that carpet.
Anonymous, too
He does go beautifully with those colors doesn't he?
DeleteAh, life can really suck.
ReplyDeleteMy aunt is sitting in a hospital room waiting for her wife to die. If life isn't for sissies, then why am I here?
Oh, I forgot, penises.
Penises.
DeleteHere's hoping your friend Fred will recuperate and be his old self soon! His cat is beautiful.
ReplyDeleteAnd you say Juan???? Well, I don't think I've been formally introduced, yet.
Being the friend is easier than being the sick one.
ReplyDeleteJuan is the one.
ReplyDeletePoor S. A. Fred. I hope he's up and about - and can manage more than plain old rice - very soon. Is Toby doing anything to help (other than looking handsome)?
ReplyDeleteSpeaking of, I'd like Paride Spaziano to pose in my garden like a bronze statue. Although, perhaps not now - in the summer when his bits won't freeze off.
You might have to bring him inside, poor dear.
ReplyDeleteOh, hi! Hello! somehow I was able to get here again. Looking forward to seeing you and Fred (and Toby) in a few weeks!
ReplyDelete