The art of insanity

Things have been tough around here. My gut has been in serious pain, on and off, feeling like I got stabbed in the right side, same spot every time. Then I started getting headaches and ear rushes, and dizziness sometimes when I stand up. So last week when I went in for chemo, my doctor checked me out and said skip the chemo, let's get you a CT scan of the abdomen and a spinal tap to see if the leukemia is resurgent. He was concerned (me too) that the area of my pancreas and liver, and my brain, had a buildup of leukemia, and chemo was not working.

I had the CT scan on Thursday and the spinal tap on Friday, too much fun really for just one person. In order to get me in all the right positions, they installed this new joystick device on my head, and they use that to get you to open wide, roll to the side, and other stuff. Here it is:


That is saliva on my tongue, not a piercing.

I just got the call from my doctor with the results, and it turns out my stomach pain is from a kinky intestine, and the headaches are because I bought an RV and I have been fixing all the things wrong with it. My mom is turning 87 on Sept. 19, and I wanted to have a road trip to see her. She is in the hospital right now with some infections, but she is improving.

My son John has agreed to come with me, and the trip was contingent on those results. Now I am going to get chemo on Wednesday, and rush to fix this RV, or abandon ship on this one and buy a better unit. There is one available that is the bomb, slightly bigger but in much better shape and cheaper at $4000, but with a monster engine (7.8 liter V8) and 6-7 mpg v. 10-11 for the one I have.


The RV I have is a 1988 Ford F250, 19' with a 354 v8 with 69K miles, and the other is a 1986 Winnebago Chieftain 22' but really trimmed out and everything working. We are talking granite countertops and wood floors, bamboo ceilings, two working generators, oven, and those are just the things that the Ford doesn't have. The difference in mpg means about $.20 more per mile, and for the luxury and headache relief I may buy it, bite the bullet and set the other one aside for now and repair it to better shape slowly, then sell it. The bad news is the market is flooded with RVs, so it may let it sit until spring.


I have mastered the art of insanity, or am I just stupid? Both.




I was swayed by the Semper Fi status of the RV, but now I think I blew it, because there are too many things wrong with this RV, and I haven't even started looking for roof leaks.

Either travelling in a leaker or in style, we may leave as early as this weekend for the road trip back to RI, starting with somewhere in Nevada, then on up to South Dakota and the Crazy Horse memorial. Badlands National Park is right there, and Mt. Rushmore too. From there I am not sure, somewhere in Minnesota or Michigan, and on to Niagara Falls, probably from the Toronto area. If time permits, on to Montreal, and then through NY to RI. Looks like 2 weeks on the road, a week in RI, then return via NC and hang with Lisa and Manuel for a while, and then go see Frank in N.Mex., and then home.

That could be too long a trip, and chemo along the way may prove problematic, but that is the plan for now. After that I plan to outfit the RV with floats and a rudder, and away to Australia!

A Poem, Litany, by Billy Collins

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uVu4Me_n91Y

You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker

and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.

There is just no way you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close

to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner

nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,

that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley,

and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I am not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow-- the wine.