Saturday, July 31, 2010

California Deamin'

Waking up in California is weird, if not welcome. Yesterday was travel day. A way-too-early-start followed by 6+ hours in the air (divided by a few hours in O'Hare to change planes), an hour to get our rental car, an hour wandering exhausted around Ralph's to grab some groceries, a quick bite to eat and finally falling asleep with the sun still up at about 8:00 California time (11:00 Philadelphia time).
Today we meet with Dr. Lewin. She text messaged last night around 1 a.m. Philadelphia time, but I forgive her. Right now we're wide awake at 6 a.m. -- so early that the free continental breakfast doesn't start for another half hour. At around 9:30 we'll mosey on down the road for Ethan's pre-surgical consultation. Then we'll probably hang out at the beach. If the weather allows, that is. Know what? It's fucking cold here. Yesterday it was 63 degrees. Today it's supposed to be 64. In fact, the rest of the time we're in L.A. the forecast high is 60-something. For contrast, maybe 6 days total since May have been below 90 in Philadelphia. I'm not complaining, mind you, just a little concerned since I only packed shorts and t-shirts. Here's hoping San Diego is a bit more consistent with my expectations, lest I'm forced to go pants shopping.
Anyway, Ethan is scheduled to undergo Medpor reconstruction tomorrow at 6:30 a.m. (finally that time change thing will pay off as we will have been up for several hours). Sadly, only one of us will be able to wait in the surgical center, so Sandi will stay with Ethan while Thomas and I explore. And huddle for warmth. (As cold as this seems to me, it must be like tundra-cold for Thomas, who has spent most of his days outside at summer camp.) Maybe we'll check out the tar pits. Or grab a 40 in a paper bag and check out the boobies on the pier.

Strange to be at this stage in the game. Seems like it's taken forever to get here. There's a hum just beneath our surfaces. The kids, usually oblivious to such things, are even sensitive to it. Time to say goodbye to that empty space on the side of Ethan's head. God, I love this kid. I'm so proud of him for staying so tough and focused. I hope he remembers this experience without attaching much trauma to it. I hope he knows that we're doing this out of love and concern for his future. I hope it goes well. Because success or failure, I can totally see Ethan using this to score with the babes later in life.
Dr. Lewin, here we come.

"I don't want to wait in vain for your love." -- Bob Marley

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