I met Joe for lunch at the Qdoba on the corner of Edwards Mill Road and Duraleigh Road. I had their cheese quesadillas, which was quite delicious. Joe had their chicken quesadillas.
I met Holly and Natasha, two of Joe’s co-workers who he’s been talking about for months and months now.
I stopped by the K-Mart on Western Boulevard, where I dropped off my two 30-day prescriptions, and bought a 365-day supply of “low strength aspirin regiment,” more commonly called, “baby aspirin.”
I spent the entire afternoon at Helios. Kevin (av8rdude) joined me for about an hour, while he grabbed something to eat before leaving for his tattoo appointment, where he was to acquire a large tattoo across his back.
I devised my Tuesday blog entry, answered some e-mails regarding the STC CRDM PhD Program Panel Discussion program, and closed on my plans with Myra to see the Shenandoah Shakespeare’s American Shakespeare Center‘s production of The Santaland Diaries in Staunton, Virginia in December.
Kevin came back after his red-hot-poker ‘pointment, and I hung out with him for another hour or so. I remembered not to give him a big old pat on the back when we said goodbye.
Dancing was okay tonight. Got the bad news about Michael’s DWI on the way home Saturday — hated to hear it.
I met Dave (davegrrr), a LiveJournal friend of Chris (zinnian), and he took The Canadian Stomp lesson.
Kevin (av8rdude) dropped in with his date, who reminded me a little of Matthew Broderick — in his younger days.
A friend of mine was out, and seemed a little “out of it,” and I asked him if he was feeling okay.
“I’m fine. Chemo today, and a little morphine.”
I was a little sad to hear this, as he was out on Sunday as well, and in such a celebratory mood.
“What are you so happy about tonight?” I’d asked.
“I’m in remission,” he’d said. I was happy to hear that, and said as much.
So, to hear this tonight both saddened and confused me.
After dancing, I went over to CCs with Kevin and his date.
My friend was over there, too, and I spent some time talking to him about his illness, and my confusion — and I had big tears in my eyes when he said, “I’ve been told I have anywhere from two months to six years.”
He looked me in the eye and said, “I don’t want your pity.”
“I’m not pitying. I’m sad, my friend.”
“I’m ready to go. I’ve had a good life. Sometimes I just get tired of the pain.”
He’s 35.