Three Months At A Time

Thursday, I had my 6 month visit with my Pulmonologist (my sleep doctor).  I repeated my complaint, “I’m so tired of being tired,” and answered yes when he asked if the pills were helping.

He quickly instructed, “Up the dosage.”  I suspect he likes to practice a little psycho analysis with the Pulmonology.  We talked a bit about poor sleep quality, joining my mind already in progress when I wake; work, retirement, stress, decisions…  I suppose its all sleep related. 

I saw my Oncologist the next day for my three month blood tests.  After reporting to that office so often for the last two years, I feel like I’m visiting friends now, except for that one dangerous friend who always sticks a needle in me. 

The doctor said the tests indicate no change, and no change is good, especially considering I’m three years into the 3 ½ year average benefit enjoyed by stem cell transplant patients.

We haven’t had a garage sale in several years; that great, American tradition where you display on folding tables the surviving remnants of your treasured memories, souvenirs of your children’s mileposts, and items that could be family heirlooms (if only someone would take a closer look). 

You set them out on display to be judged by all, and the verdict after just a moment’s deliberation?  “Will you take a dollar?”

Diane said it was time we had another garage sale.  I was determined to be brave and participate by putting some things out to sell instead of trying to keep everything forever. 

I know that makes sense, but selling a favorite shirt that has to be pulled tight now to button is publicly admitting I will never lose enough weight to fit it again. 

It means finally admitting that those odd items I have accumulated and held because certainly they must be rare and/or odd enough to be of some monetary value, aren’t worth $2 to anyone willing to walk up our driveway and have a look.  

It means that after a week of preparations and a two day sale, we can probably go out to dinner on our financial gains. 

But consider this, once you identify an item you might be willing to part with (especially with the hope of a handsome profit due to its appreciation since being in your custody), you take it out, dust it off, place it on the folding table and watch it for two days only to realize that its value is exclusively in your eyes . 

You must then decide if you will put it back where you had it, or move to the next level and DISPOSE OF IT.  Maybe that’s been the hidden agenda behind these garage sales all along!

Since Jason and I built the dirt track for Radio Controlled cars in my back yard, I’ve been meaning to invite long time RC racing friends, Don and Diane, to come out from Portland and try it out. 

With summer circling the drain, and after several, “we’ll have to get together sometime-s,” we finally chose a day, ran the cars on the track, had a real nice visit, and wrapped it up by driving the ’57 Chevy to lunch.  

During our visit, we reminisced about the good times we had racing in the “Yamhill County RC Car Club” in McMinnville, and marveled that it really was 20 years ago.  The thought of a car club reunion had previously been mentioned a time or two, but that day we committed to looking into it. 

I suggested that if we found at least 10 of our fellow racers we haven’t seen in years, it would be a fun gathering, so we’ve started with a Face book Group Page.