August 3, 2014; A last day in Seattle
This morning, like most of my mornings began before 0500. Brian is
asleep across the bed and I am waiting for it to be closer to 0600,
so I can go get my morning coffee. This morning I took a shower to
remove the dampness. The humidity has increased over the last
several days.
The trek up the hill to the coffee shop was
uneventful. The young black couple are sleeping on the porch of the
Seattle Vineyards Christian House.
Because it is 0600 before the Starbucks opens there is a wider array
of people out and about. I was the first customer this morning but
soon other followed. The location of this Starbucks, a block from
the University attracts numerous odd characters, from the man that
sits at the base of the light pole just outside the door on the
corner, with a sign that says, "Need Food," though I saw him
yesterday morning give a young man a credit card with which to buy
him a cup of coffee, to the scraggly and odoriferous youths with
skate boards milling up and down the streets. They seem to travel in
packs, like wild dogs, or maybe even feral cats. One wonders what it
is about University environments that attracts these young, and not
so young, vagabonds. Here in this area of Seattle it can't be the
cheap housing, because such does not exist. Were they once students
that somehow managed to never finish school and never leave the
city? Are they current students, poor as students are, just hanging
out in Seattle for the summer? Bigger cities do attract a wide range
of transients that flock in during certain times of the year. Some
stay, trapped by their poverty but others manage to escape to other cities.
There are also the customers that come in and buy their morning
drinks then head off on their business. There young girls dressed in
morning hair and whatever turned up from the floor, that wander in
with sleep still in their eyes.
As I arrived at the Starbucks,
there was ,standing on the edge of the sidewalk an anxious looking young
man with what looked like knife scars on his left cheek. He was
taking a picture with his cell phone of something. Later, after I
had sat down to read and drink my coffee I noticed that he would
walk out into the street and look down the hill, as though waiting for
someone, someone that was late, to arrive. He seemed a bit agitated, not as
in angry but as in nervous. Soon, a young black kid on a bike, with
the seat set low so that his knees were above the handle bars arrived.
What transpired appeared to be some kind of drug deal. Not being my
business or concern I refocused on my reading. Later the young black
kid on the bike came in the door and leaned his bike against one of
tables and commented, "Is was already getting hot." He
disappeared toward what I assumed was the counter to order a
morning drink. He had still not returned to get his bike and leave 15 or so minutes later, which I thought odd, so I assumed he had sat down to enjoy his
morning drink. By 7 am I was ready to leave so I put my trash into the
trash container and walked to the counter to order another coffee to
go. No kid was to be seen. Apparently he had come to use the
bathroom, for whatever purpose and and had been in there some time.
As if to emphasize the seediness of this particular Starbucks, which
rather seems genuinely unwarranted, there is a spiral of flies in
perpetual motion as you enter the door. You have to bat them out of
your face and keep your mouth closed, lest you swallow a couple.
They don't seem to pester the customers at their tables, but
occasionally one needs to be swatted away when ordering at the
register.
The young black couple were gone by the time I walked by the charity
house. Yesterday morning, when I came up the hill, the girl had gone down the alley to use
the "facilities" and was returning to her porch bed when I walked
by. She seemed pleasant enough and with an embarrassed smile she said
good morning to me - alley bathrooms are not ideal places for young
ladies.
Sunday, August 3, 2014
Brian's Journey,
July 30, 2014
I have a few minutes before I need to get breakfast made for Brian and get him up and moving. He was up for a few minutes earlier, leg cramps, and is now sleeping (or dozing) in the recliner.
It is a muggy morning, not hot yet, just clingy damp. I took a shower again this morning to help. I felt better this morning when I woke. My throat is still a bit scratchy, probably a result of sleeping with my mouth open on my back on the couch. But, as always, I will live and it is only a minor nuisance not worth even the short sentence that I spent informing you.
As usual, I went up the hill, up 42nd street, to Starbucks on University Way, and had a coffee and pound cake and read for a while. It was cooler this morning there so I was better able to get comfortable and it was out of the apartment, which even now is a bit stuffy. I have the screen door open and a fan blowing in some air, but it is directed at Brian. As a minor observation one is struck by the presence of Seagulls. They compete with the local flocks of black birds for scraps of food on the streets and their shrieks can be heard echoing from above and along the canyons of building walls. It is not surprising though that they are here. Seattle clings to the east side of Puget Sound, which is in turn connected to the Pacific Ocean. On Seattle's east side are a number of lakes, which are just fingers of Puget Sound.
We went up to Everett last night for dinner. Brian has some gift cards for Applebee's that people have sent him. So we went to Applebee's for dinner. The nearest, or at least easiest to get to was in Everett 30 minutes north of here on Possession Sound. It is across from Widbey Island. It was late so we didn't go down to the water.
Maybe today we will get out and do something downtown. I still want to go to the Space Needle, but it really depends on how Brian is feeling. Yesterday we just came back to the apartment and sweltered in the humidity. We met the new Transplant House ambassador last evening before going to dinner.
Well, I need to make breakfast for Brian.
I have a few minutes before I need to get breakfast made for Brian and get him up and moving. He was up for a few minutes earlier, leg cramps, and is now sleeping (or dozing) in the recliner.
It is a muggy morning, not hot yet, just clingy damp. I took a shower again this morning to help. I felt better this morning when I woke. My throat is still a bit scratchy, probably a result of sleeping with my mouth open on my back on the couch. But, as always, I will live and it is only a minor nuisance not worth even the short sentence that I spent informing you.
As usual, I went up the hill, up 42nd street, to Starbucks on University Way, and had a coffee and pound cake and read for a while. It was cooler this morning there so I was better able to get comfortable and it was out of the apartment, which even now is a bit stuffy. I have the screen door open and a fan blowing in some air, but it is directed at Brian. As a minor observation one is struck by the presence of Seagulls. They compete with the local flocks of black birds for scraps of food on the streets and their shrieks can be heard echoing from above and along the canyons of building walls. It is not surprising though that they are here. Seattle clings to the east side of Puget Sound, which is in turn connected to the Pacific Ocean. On Seattle's east side are a number of lakes, which are just fingers of Puget Sound.
We went up to Everett last night for dinner. Brian has some gift cards for Applebee's that people have sent him. So we went to Applebee's for dinner. The nearest, or at least easiest to get to was in Everett 30 minutes north of here on Possession Sound. It is across from Widbey Island. It was late so we didn't go down to the water.
Maybe today we will get out and do something downtown. I still want to go to the Space Needle, but it really depends on how Brian is feeling. Yesterday we just came back to the apartment and sweltered in the humidity. We met the new Transplant House ambassador last evening before going to dinner.
Well, I need to make breakfast for Brian.
Brian's Journey, A Seattle Morning
July 29, 2014: A Seattle Morning
This morning I was up before 0500. Had a restless night on the couch. Brian doesn't go to bed until late. I usually fall asleep sometime between 2230 and 2300. I wake up several times during the night. This morning I can feel the humidity and the latent heat. Things feel clingy. I had to take a shower this morning and shave - it helped.
As usual I went up the hill to Starbucks to get a coffee and to read, but this morning I did not stay long. I did not feel very comfortable - I felt sticky and grimy so I read for a few minutes while I finished my pound cake then left. There was a group of young vagrants males, unshaven and in dirty worn clothes hanging out in the alcove of a shop just down a little from the Starbucks, which is on the corner of 42nd and University Way. They were boisterously talking and one of them was even smoking a pot pipe. Interestingly I wasn't too nervous about walking past them. They seemed harmless enough and more interested in there verbal one-ups-man-ship conversation than in me. They greeted me and I said hello back as I passed.
The leafy bushes along the apartment walls crowd out onto the broken and jumbled sidewalk leaving little room between them and the muddy-wet gutter, full of trash: odd for a city like Seattle to have some much trash along its sidewalks. I have to duck and lean as I pass so as not to brush into them. If they are wet from rain or morning dew it could lead to a good soaking. Beneath the bushes, in their shadow and protection from the sun are mats of green moss growing onto and into the porous concrete. This neighborhood, near the University is a quiet but shabby neighborhood made up of not-so-cheap apartment buildings. There is construction on the roads everywhere.
A homeless pair sleeps on the porch of a charity house, a couple of black kids, probably 18 or older but still kids, a boy and a girl. They are there most morning this early. I have the urge but not the desire to give them some money. The boy is often awake as I walk by and we greet each other with "good mornings." I continue on, coffee in hand and purse bag swaying at my side.
This morning I was up before 0500. Had a restless night on the couch. Brian doesn't go to bed until late. I usually fall asleep sometime between 2230 and 2300. I wake up several times during the night. This morning I can feel the humidity and the latent heat. Things feel clingy. I had to take a shower this morning and shave - it helped.
As usual I went up the hill to Starbucks to get a coffee and to read, but this morning I did not stay long. I did not feel very comfortable - I felt sticky and grimy so I read for a few minutes while I finished my pound cake then left. There was a group of young vagrants males, unshaven and in dirty worn clothes hanging out in the alcove of a shop just down a little from the Starbucks, which is on the corner of 42nd and University Way. They were boisterously talking and one of them was even smoking a pot pipe. Interestingly I wasn't too nervous about walking past them. They seemed harmless enough and more interested in there verbal one-ups-man-ship conversation than in me. They greeted me and I said hello back as I passed.
The leafy bushes along the apartment walls crowd out onto the broken and jumbled sidewalk leaving little room between them and the muddy-wet gutter, full of trash: odd for a city like Seattle to have some much trash along its sidewalks. I have to duck and lean as I pass so as not to brush into them. If they are wet from rain or morning dew it could lead to a good soaking. Beneath the bushes, in their shadow and protection from the sun are mats of green moss growing onto and into the porous concrete. This neighborhood, near the University is a quiet but shabby neighborhood made up of not-so-cheap apartment buildings. There is construction on the roads everywhere.
A homeless pair sleeps on the porch of a charity house, a couple of black kids, probably 18 or older but still kids, a boy and a girl. They are there most morning this early. I have the urge but not the desire to give them some money. The boy is often awake as I walk by and we greet each other with "good mornings." I continue on, coffee in hand and purse bag swaying at my side.
Brian's Journey
July 28, 2014: Brian's Journey
Brrrrrrrr-kthunk-thunk, Brrrrrrrr-kthunk-thunk, Brrrrrrrr-kthunk-thunk, Brrrrrrrr-kthunk-thunk, the pump pumps its liquids into his chest and he sleeps - tired, as they all seem to be. I go downstairs to get a cup of coffee and when I return he is hooked up to his dispenser. Now we wait.
The SCCA is a cheerful place outside of the bays and treatment rooms, which are not so bad given how clean they are and not sterile white. The waiting rooms have comfortable chairs, some of which are recliners that afford wonderful views of Lake Union and the blue sky that blesses us today. There is a variety of amazing art on each of the floors, from 1 to 6 that patients and visitors can access. There is a holder mounted on the wall of each floor near the elevators that have brochures, which talk about the art, with pictures and descriptions and the artist's name.
This is an entire building dedicated to treating cancer patients. So many, but then again they are concentrated into a small area. Today, Monday, is busy after a quiet weekend. I had to park lower down in the garage than Saturday or even yesterday, when I took advantage of parking outside on the street. All of the handicap parking was full also. We have a placard.
The couple with the little one are still in the infusion bay when I come back from the airport with Corey. Brian is out in the waiting area when we arrive. A few minutes later I see the husband come out of the infusion area carrying the baby in its carrier - that his how I know that the mother is still in there. There is a young lady, Hickman port clearly visible above her t-shirt - she is young, her parents accompany her, waiting for a bay. She seems to be in good spirits. She has an iPad and is showing her mother pictures. She is not a teenager, but in her early twenties - why so young?
I cannot know what they are going through, and pray I never have to.
We are home now, Corey is on his way home to Tacoma
Brrrrrrrr-kthunk-thunk, Brrrrrrrr-kthunk-thunk, Brrrrrrrr-kthunk-thunk, Brrrrrrrr-kthunk-thunk, the pump pumps its liquids into his chest and he sleeps - tired, as they all seem to be. I go downstairs to get a cup of coffee and when I return he is hooked up to his dispenser. Now we wait.
The SCCA is a cheerful place outside of the bays and treatment rooms, which are not so bad given how clean they are and not sterile white. The waiting rooms have comfortable chairs, some of which are recliners that afford wonderful views of Lake Union and the blue sky that blesses us today. There is a variety of amazing art on each of the floors, from 1 to 6 that patients and visitors can access. There is a holder mounted on the wall of each floor near the elevators that have brochures, which talk about the art, with pictures and descriptions and the artist's name.
This is an entire building dedicated to treating cancer patients. So many, but then again they are concentrated into a small area. Today, Monday, is busy after a quiet weekend. I had to park lower down in the garage than Saturday or even yesterday, when I took advantage of parking outside on the street. All of the handicap parking was full also. We have a placard.
The couple with the little one are still in the infusion bay when I come back from the airport with Corey. Brian is out in the waiting area when we arrive. A few minutes later I see the husband come out of the infusion area carrying the baby in its carrier - that his how I know that the mother is still in there. There is a young lady, Hickman port clearly visible above her t-shirt - she is young, her parents accompany her, waiting for a bay. She seems to be in good spirits. She has an iPad and is showing her mother pictures. She is not a teenager, but in her early twenties - why so young?
I cannot know what they are going through, and pray I never have to.
We are home now, Corey is on his way home to Tacoma
Brian's Journey
July 28, 2014: Brian's Journey
Elderly, so many elderly. Crooked, bent, hunched, walking with canes or hanging onto their spouses. Some have a blank look on their faces, some have smiles. So many, though are middle aged staring into the distance or at the ground; a lost look or the look of trying to gather their bearings; The sunken eyes in balding heads with lost empty looks - chemo brain, they call it.
Infusion tubes can be seen sticking out of their shirts and blouses; they are called Hickman ports. The men go about bald, a few wear baseball caps. Most of the women wear a bandana cap or a skull-like hat to cover their bare heads.
A young husband and wife sit a few seats in front of me. She has cancer, wears the cap. She has infusion tubes. They have a small baby in a car carrier sitting on the floor before them. She rocks the baby gently; I can hear baby noises! He prepares a bottle. I see them later walking down the hall past our bay, she is holding his arm. He's carrying the little one in the carrier. Both of them smiling.
Nurses bustle in and out of the bays, hanging bags of chemicals onto the pumps and hooking up tubes to the infusion ports that snake into the patient's chests. Then the sound of the drip pumps begin, kisssh-chunk, like clocks.
Brian is on his back on his bed, about to drift off as he waits for his bags chemicals to come up from the pharmacy. One nurse has been in and taken his vitals and his primary nurse has stopped by to introduce herself and confirm his identity - Name - Date of Birth - a quick look around - a quick announcement that his drugs have been ordered and that she will be back soon to get things started. He lies on the bed quietly waiting and soon begins to snore as he drifts off.
The rooms are rooms where the practice of cancer treatment takes place. They are clean, decorated with boxes of gloves, a small shelf cluttered with wipes and a phone. There is a cabinet with blankets, a sink, a tube of hand sanitizer sitting on a cart full of medical stuff. A computer hangs from the wall. One small piece of art hangs on the wall, and of course there are the ubiquitous infusion pumps.
Soon the pharmacy delivery person comes in bringing Brian's chemicals, asks his name and date of birth, thanks him then leaves. I thank her as she leaves - tough job to see sickness all day. But they also have a good job, delivering the bags that help prolong and save lives.
Elderly, so many elderly. Crooked, bent, hunched, walking with canes or hanging onto their spouses. Some have a blank look on their faces, some have smiles. So many, though are middle aged staring into the distance or at the ground; a lost look or the look of trying to gather their bearings; The sunken eyes in balding heads with lost empty looks - chemo brain, they call it.
Infusion tubes can be seen sticking out of their shirts and blouses; they are called Hickman ports. The men go about bald, a few wear baseball caps. Most of the women wear a bandana cap or a skull-like hat to cover their bare heads.
A young husband and wife sit a few seats in front of me. She has cancer, wears the cap. She has infusion tubes. They have a small baby in a car carrier sitting on the floor before them. She rocks the baby gently; I can hear baby noises! He prepares a bottle. I see them later walking down the hall past our bay, she is holding his arm. He's carrying the little one in the carrier. Both of them smiling.
Nurses bustle in and out of the bays, hanging bags of chemicals onto the pumps and hooking up tubes to the infusion ports that snake into the patient's chests. Then the sound of the drip pumps begin, kisssh-chunk, like clocks.
Brian is on his back on his bed, about to drift off as he waits for his bags chemicals to come up from the pharmacy. One nurse has been in and taken his vitals and his primary nurse has stopped by to introduce herself and confirm his identity - Name - Date of Birth - a quick look around - a quick announcement that his drugs have been ordered and that she will be back soon to get things started. He lies on the bed quietly waiting and soon begins to snore as he drifts off.
The rooms are rooms where the practice of cancer treatment takes place. They are clean, decorated with boxes of gloves, a small shelf cluttered with wipes and a phone. There is a cabinet with blankets, a sink, a tube of hand sanitizer sitting on a cart full of medical stuff. A computer hangs from the wall. One small piece of art hangs on the wall, and of course there are the ubiquitous infusion pumps.
Soon the pharmacy delivery person comes in bringing Brian's chemicals, asks his name and date of birth, thanks him then leaves. I thank her as she leaves - tough job to see sickness all day. But they also have a good job, delivering the bags that help prolong and save lives.
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