Brendan Gates

This morning I went into the cancer center for another of what is becoming my routine blood tests. Numbers aren’t great right now, but from yesterday’s test I am slightly up – so that’s good.

There was a really crotchety old man that was also in the cancer center yesterday. He was quite vocal in his demands of the nurse, mostly for more chocolate milk. At one point he made reference to Jefferson Barracks National Cemetary, in what seemed to be a veiled threat that he might die if not attended to sooner. I don’t know the man’s situation – so I can’t know what he’s going through, or that I wouldn’t be the same way. But I did feel bad for the nurse. She seemed pretty flustered about having to juggle 9 patients by herself, especially with one of them constantly demanding more attention than the others. When I went back in to the center today, that same old man was back again – though we had a different nurse this time and considerably less patients for her to care for. This time, the old man was much more sedate – though he didn’t miss his chance to order the chocolate milk. After I was done, I was waiting by the second floor elevator in a part of the building that looks down over the large first floor entrance/atrium to the center. I saw the old man (who had finished up a few minutes before I had) slowly working his way across the atrium with his walker. Being a Sunday, the building was largely deserted – and he was probably the only person on that floor right then. He was not moving very fast, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of empathy for the man – despite his behavior towards the nurses. Then, just before my elevator arrived, I watched him stop at the vacant receptionist desk and empty the candy basket into his pockets.

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I went to Dierberg’s and bought some more orange juice, plus some maple syrup for the waffles I plan heat up and eat very soon. I haven’t had waffles in a long time, so I’m pretty excited. After I left Dierberg’s I used some hand sanitizer that my mom gave me to keep in my car. I hadn’t used it before, and it makes my hands smell like cherry flavored pipe tobacco. I’m pretty excited about that too.

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It would seem that my attempts to pass on the bedside meme have failed – or at the very least are failing at this point (since I’m batting 0/3). Sorry, CK. I tried.

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Do you need a reliable, used 24,000 lb diesel engine soil compactor – but you can’t afford what the local Ingersoll-Rand dealer is charging? Maybe your jobsite is in Chiang Mai, Thailand – and being a good 300 miles north of Bangkok you’re not really able to head on over to your local heavy equipment dealer. Maybe you only need something small, but you don’t have the resources to track it down yourself. You, my friend, need to contact MTM Distribution LLC.

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My grandma just called me to see how I was doing. It was a very brief conversation, as I think she’s always afraid that she might be troubling me or keeping me from something more important. She’s not, of course, but there is no convincing her of that. Despite the record 1 minute 22 second call time, it was nice to hear from her.

And that’s all I’ve got. Enjoy your Sunday.