Before I talk about today, I want to take a moment to mark the passing of my uncle, Warren "Bud" Nystedt, and to honor his memory. Uncle Bud passed away at his home in Arizona last Sunday night after 92 years of being a truly great human being. He lived most of his adult life (at least the part of which I was aware) in St. Charles, Illinois, just west of Chicago. I have several special memories of him, but the one thing with which Uncle Bud will be forever linked is Crown Royal whiskey. You see, Uncle Bud introduced me to Crown Royal at my brother Wilson's wedding when I was 17 (about two month shy of legal). Mind you, I had already met some of Crown's lesser cousins--Jack, Canadian Mist, Old Crow (God help me), but nothing "sophisticated". The night before Wilson's nuptials, a group gathered in Uncle Bud and Aunt Freida's hotel room. Uncle Bud and Aunt Freida attended every family function. From his suitcase, Uncle Bud pulled out a beautiful, mysterious purple bag bearing the legend "Crown Royal" embroidered in gold thread. To me, it was almost magical. He mixed up some highballs and without asking made one for me. Uncle Bud was tacitly acknowledging my impending adulthood, something very few people seemed to be doing back in 1976. I loved him for that. I still love him for that. So tonight, for the first time in decades, I bought some Crown Royal. In a few minutes, I will raise a toast to Uncle Bud. I invite you to charge a glass and join me in that toast in just a few paragraphs.
Today was the first day of the "Long Commute", driving from home to GUH. I left home at 5:30 and got to the hospital two hours later. I was in my favorite seat in Room 11 by 8:30, where I met my nurse for today, Rasheda. Rasheda provided further evidence that GUH hires only the best, and she promised not to play any April Fool's jokes on me. Unfortunately, I did not get a similar promise from Jamela, who caught me with the "Mr. McMichael, did you realize you have on two different shoes?" gag. Can't believe I fell for it. Jamela asked for the address of my blog, so I have to be careful to say only nice things about the Clinical Trials staff. They are going to have way too many opportunities (involving needles) to get back at me over the next six months.
My only room partner today was Mr. Benson, an older gentleman with a thin body and thinning hair who was surprisingly spry. We talked not at all--not a word passed between us. I was on the fludarabine by 9:10, off by 9:40. Rasheda pulled the peripherial I.V. (as I discovered it was named) out of my left forearm (I get a new one tomorrow (yeah!)), and I was on the road to work by 10:10.
My Mini Cooper's GPS plotted a course home that took us through downtown D.C. As I drove, I passed by the World War II memorial for the first time. Looking at the memorial, I thought of Dad, a WWII veteran of the Pacific Theater. The route wound past the famous Washington Tidal Basin cherry trees, now in full bloom. It was a beautiful, if long, ride to work. My staff had successfully kept me out of hot water and all was right with the world.
Well, I've now charged my glass with Crown Royal and Coke. Here's to you, Uncle Bud. Thank you for everything. God's Speed and God's Rest.
Damn, that Crown and Coke is still good.
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