![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Nov. 18th, 2006 08:07 pmRelaxed day hereabouts... Slept in past noon after being up late into the night. Had a slice of really good apple pie and a bit of cheese for breakfast, and then DEC took me on the promised geocaching outing to the town of Aylmer, Quebec, where we found 2 of 2 that we looked for (he nabbed both!) So, I can now proudly add PQ as the 11th of the states and provinces that I've gone 'caching in. We did some photography too, capturing turbulent rapids churning past the small islands in the Ottawa River, and a few pictures of each other as well. Since mine are on my Treo, I'll download 'em when I'm on the side of the border that won't charge me a small mint for the privilege.
Came back and lay down for a snuggle and a nap before dinner, and then I got a chance to catch up with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
absinthehearts for a while as DEC cooked dinner - some yummy tortellini in a white broccoli sauce. Now we're in his office, working each on our own projects, but in near enough proximity that I can look up every now and again and smile at him and the siamese cat that's sleeping contentedly in his lap. Through the ~10 years that I've known him, DEC has frequently been accessorized by one siamese cat or another; it's almost a trademark of sorts.
DEC has his surgery date, finally. In two weeks, on Dec 5th, the staff at the London Regional Hospital will excise half his liver and radiate hell out of the other half. The hope is that the remaining portion of his liver will regrow at a pace far faster than its tumor, and that this process will buy him a couple more years of life, at which point they can repeat the process if the tumor hasn't migrated beyond the confines of his liver. That's the best of the possible outcomes. The less good ones, well... he's making sure that his affairs are in order before then.
So we're aware, in this visit, that we might not get another. We are being conscious of how we spend our time, and we are talking matter-of-factly about illness and death (much to the unease of some bystanders at the YOW baggage claim, who weren't expecting to overhear bilirubin stats and surgical details among the local 'port reunion conversation topics). DEC is being sweet about thinking of things I might like - such as the geocaching outing - and such as the lovingly macabre present of about 40 of his empty diabetes blood strip containers. He's been saving them for me ever since I commented that they look like the little black film canisters that we use as microcaches in geocaching. It is a good gift.
How do you make love to someone for what might be the last time? Urgently. Joyfully. Tearfully.
Came back and lay down for a snuggle and a nap before dinner, and then I got a chance to catch up with
absinthehearts for a while as DEC cooked dinner - some yummy tortellini in a white broccoli sauce. Now we're in his office, working each on our own projects, but in near enough proximity that I can look up every now and again and smile at him and the siamese cat that's sleeping contentedly in his lap. Through the ~10 years that I've known him, DEC has frequently been accessorized by one siamese cat or another; it's almost a trademark of sorts.DEC has his surgery date, finally. In two weeks, on Dec 5th, the staff at the London Regional Hospital will excise half his liver and radiate hell out of the other half. The hope is that the remaining portion of his liver will regrow at a pace far faster than its tumor, and that this process will buy him a couple more years of life, at which point they can repeat the process if the tumor hasn't migrated beyond the confines of his liver. That's the best of the possible outcomes. The less good ones, well... he's making sure that his affairs are in order before then.
So we're aware, in this visit, that we might not get another. We are being conscious of how we spend our time, and we are talking matter-of-factly about illness and death (much to the unease of some bystanders at the YOW baggage claim, who weren't expecting to overhear bilirubin stats and surgical details among the local 'port reunion conversation topics). DEC is being sweet about thinking of things I might like - such as the geocaching outing - and such as the lovingly macabre present of about 40 of his empty diabetes blood strip containers. He's been saving them for me ever since I commented that they look like the little black film canisters that we use as microcaches in geocaching. It is a good gift.
How do you make love to someone for what might be the last time? Urgently. Joyfully. Tearfully.
