2001
| June 10, 2001 My son has accepted the position of Honoree for the Peninsula Tri team - Triathlon that is. It's part of the fundraising activity of the Leukemia society - Team in Training. We did this before as well. I dragged him from the rehab center of Stanford for an "outing" to attend the kickoff. This time, I dragged him out of bed early on Saturday to attend a kickoff. At the Westin hotel in Santa Clara. We drove to Great America Parkway - on the way to work I pass this exit every day. I almost passed it this time. And then I almost drove past it to Compterware - which was further down this road - until they went out of business. I made the parking lot and then drove past the hotel to the parking structure. Someone with a sign for Team in Training was directing us in. To the second floor. I drove to the second floor - and saw another sign person - in the midst of the construction that remains - it was here last time. We needed to go up a level. There is an elevator. Past the yellow caution tape. They headed us to the elevator - holding up the tape so I could wheel my son under it. In the process - the caution sawhouse collapsed. I made it through unscathed. Adventures. We made it on over to the elevator - but wait! - there is no handicap ramp. And my younger son is in his wheelchair - firmly in it I might add. This is a setback week. I got him up, stepped him up (a tall step) and leaned him on a pillar. I then lifted the chair (I am good at that) up the 10" curb and then got him back down into it. Up we went to the next level. Getting off the elevator, the wheelchair ramp is taped off - I ran my son through it - fun to do. I broke the tape. By this time, I was taking no prisoners. Onward! So far, so good. He said that the construction appears to be the addition of ramps. This is good because we have to go up a new one when we get to the cross ramp from parking garage to the hotel. Must remember, need to go to Level 3. There is another person holding a Team in Training sign. We go over the ramp. My legs are getting a workout - this is an incline and my son weighs in at 235. He helps a little. The sign person is helpful - and tells me that we need to go down 3-4 steps. OK. I proceed. Not 3-4. We have a full flight of steps facing us. A whole bunch, a landing - short - and then 3-4 more. Egad. I get the boy up (we are laughing by now) and he leans on the rail and I keep my arms around him and we inch him down step by step. Good thing he is somewhat mobile. Some helpful soul takes the chair down for me. Good thing because I'd have been racing up the stairs for it while he teetered at the bottom otherwise. We go down a hall and check in - he gets another tee-shirt - and a packet - and we get sent down one more level - with an elevator this time. Then down the hall to more sign people and guides to the main ballroom. They have placed my son dead in front - so we take out a chair and roll him into line. He has a red balloon. With his name on it. People we know from before come and say hello. The women love to run their fingers through his newly regrown hair. It's soft. It's thick. It's lovely. I pet him often. He snaps my spring-loaded work badge in retaliation. We sit through the kickoff peptalk. We get into our subgroup. And we sit through that talk. I have a few photos of my son when they introduce the honorees. There is a lady hiding her bald head. A few survivors who now participate in the races. Walkers. Runners. Bikes. Mountain bikers. Triathlon. We are part of the Tri team - there are two. And we are reminded that some honorees did not make it. Cancer won. I do not dwell on that. Afterward my son gets to pose for photos. They all want photos. For the website. For their collections. He poses and smiles. I get one taken of me and him. On my camera. He won't pose at home. He's done this before - and this time I got him to his feet. We were out about 4 hours all together. It's good for him to get out. But his feet hurt (they had pulsed at him the whole time) and we call it a day. His feet sometimes are beyond help - he is driven to tears from the pain. I have Vicodin and we dole it out when he can't take it anymore. We are very careful about not taking it often. But once in awhile, it needs to be used. Tomorrow we are going to the movies. I try to get him out when his counts are not too low for exposure. It's good for him to be part of life again. After nine months in the hospital, a little normalcy is appreciated. This is three weeks out of the house on week-ends now. Two at the mall and the movies. One at the kickoff and the movies. Sort of like summers were when he was in high-school. He'd play computer games and watch TV all week and we'd tear around on the weekends. This is a good thing. The fact he is still in remission (almost a year now) is also a good thing. I buy (on request) about $23 worth of Fillet Mignon. Two meals. Excellent. You see, I also cook anything he wants within reason. Even if both of us are trying to diet. And we start to plot next week's adventures. Along the way, I am beginning to work on taking him to Orlando to the RT convention. He isn't sure just yet. You see, women just love to run their fingers through his hair. |
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