The Award

The street set up outside of the apartment complex we're staying at is kind of ridiculous.  When you exit the complex you need to turn left, then right to get on the freeway.  There is an annoying barrier in the middle of the road so in order to go left you must drive a half mile down the road and take a U-turn on Easy Street.  I find irony in the fact that every morning we have the opportunity to take a ride down Easy Street, but instead we turn around and go back to the hospital!
No Easy Street for us!
Today Willie was feeling pretty good.  We had one of our favorite nurses at the cancer center who brightened the day with talk of dogs and football.  He slept most of the day between his radiation treatments.  When he finished his last treatment he came out holding a piece of paper that he handed to me. 
"Ooooo, fancy!" I said, as I looked at the printed award in my hands. 
"I know!" he said through his mask.
"Hey," Casey said from across the room "Do I get an award?"
"I guess so" Willie answered.
They were both wearing their filter masks so it sounded more like muffled barking than conversation.  Casey's eyes wrinkled in a smile under his mask.
"I hope I get one!" he said "see you guys tomorrow!"
We left the radiation center without a bit of sadness that this part is over.
"This is a fabulous award!" I said then read it out loud as we walked "Congratulations! Willie Beavers has completed the prescribed radiation therapy treatments with high honors in courage, determination, and good spirit."
Willie looked at the award as I read it then chimed in.
"It should say 'Congratulations, you are now a turkey pot pie since we've baked you in our giant microwave all week!"
That's too funny!  I'm still laughing about that.
I pointed out the Stanford logo on top of the award
"I'm going to frame this and hang it on the wall.  People will think its' a degree from Stanford!"
"They'll think I'm a doctor!" he said.
We had been walking during this conversation and ended up at the front check in desk for the radiation department.
"Congratulations!" the receptionist shouted "you are all done!"
She is a nice woman in her mid 40's with thinning hair that she carefully combs over.  Her smile is warm and I have noticed that her bright red lipstick never seems faded.  We have seen her three times a day for the whole week and she has started to feel like an old friend.
"Look at this," Willie said, motioning to the award "We're going to hang it on the wall, people will think I graduated from Stanford!"
She laughed.
 "You ARE graduating from Stanford!" she replied.  "Good luck with everything!"
"We'll see you later," Willie said as he turned the corner.
I paused and looked back at her "In all kindness, I hope we don't see you again" I joked.
She smiled "I hope I don't see you either!"
It's a running joke in the cancer departments that no one ever wants to return so a "see you later" response is never welcomed.  We usually hear "good luck with things" or something along those lines.
We got in the elevator and Willie heaved a huge sigh of relief.
"Well that's one part done." he said, and I smiled at him.
"One done!" I copied.
Tomorrow we check in to the hospital and he begins chemotherapy.  The way the check in is set up is so silly.  They gave me a phone number with instruction to call for his check in time.  I called the number today and was scolded for calling a day ahead.  The nurse told me that they will not know what bed will be available until tomorrow morning.  I was instructed to call back at 7:30 AM tomorrow and they will tell me what time to check in which could be anywhere between 9 AM and 4 PM.  I hung up feeling like I had just ordered cable, complete with the ridiculous time windows. 
It's incredibly disorganized for Stanford, I feel.
Thank you all for your positive thoughts and prayers for Willie this week.  They obviously worked as he is now playing a video game and requesting a snack!
Happy Friday!