Through the slats on the Roman Blinds, I watch the weakened beam of a car's headlights as it pushes through the drizzle of an early morning. But it passes slowly by, the sizzle of its tires on the wet road slowly fading into the distance.
Linda and I are ready to go for my pre-chemo visit with the Medical Oncologist at Princes Margaret Hospital. A former student of Linda's has agreed to drive us today, despite the need to leave in the early hours of morning and face the frustrations of Toronto's rush hour traffic.
The congestion in my lungs had me up three times in the night, so I am feeling even more exhausted and sleepy than is usual even for me these days. And once I've taken my first oxycocet of the day, the exhaustion will only increase.
Another car slowly makes it way down our street, another neighbour on the way to work. Another neighbour going through the normal patterns of his life.
The rain signals an end to the oppressive heat wave that has hung over the city for the past week and that hasn't helped my breathing in the least. The forecast is for cooler temperatures and even more rain on into the coming weekend.
Maybe now we can turn off the central air conditioning for a while and let some fresh air into the house.
This time the car outside my front window slows and stops.
"Persaad's here," I tell Linda.
"Right on time," she says.
I start coughing, my lungs struggling to reject the fluid that weighs them down.
"Let's hope the Oncologist will find a way to speed up your getting your lungs tapped."
"I hope so too," I say, pushing my weakened body to its shaky feet.
And so we head off into the rain and the long drive downtown and an outcome we will not know until this afternoon.
Wish us luck.
When We Were Just 65
23 hours ago
