Cleaning Up the Aftermath
We, understandably, didn't wake up until late. George and Isabel had left for church and there were pancakes in the oven, which we partook of happily. They were whole grain pancakes, with plenty of chew and heft and with all the various jams and syrup, they were very good with a big glass of skim milk. We got up late enough that by the time we wanted to go out, John noted that we could make it to the coffee hour at church, so we decided to go.
I had mildly mixed feelings; but when we got there it was obvious that everyone was very glad to see us. It was kinda sad and kinda cool to see everyone again and just greet and hug and get hugged and patted on the now fairly obvious tummy. Sally poked me gently against the bulge and said, "I always forget how hard that gets." There were lots of congratulations and lots of smiles, which was very nice.
Afterwards, George and Isabel had to clean up from the coffee hour, so John and I ducked out and went to Safeway to see if they hand any of the Thomas Kemper pop I'd tried to buy yesterday. They didn't have the sample case, sadly, so we went back to the house and packed everything up. By the time everyone was back at the house, there was a bare half an hour before we had to leave for the airport, so we just had a very quick lunch of soup and ran off to drop us off at Seatac.
The flight back was on a spacious 777, and it was very nice and very quick and very much uneventful, though I did get my United 'seafood' meal! It was a nice slab of smoked salmon on noodles with a bread stick. Very salty, though, so I don't know if I'll go for that again when we got to Portland. I napped, again, for most of the flight and when we arrived everything was very smooth getting home.
Home first, where we opened all the doors and windows, turned off the heat and turned on all the fans. It was still mildly stinky, but not nearly as bad as when we'd arrived before, so airing everything out seems to have helped. When everything was opened up, only then did we go and get Fezzik from the Goodell's. They weren't in when we got there, and Molly, the Great Dane, barked at us a few times and growled at us a few times, but didn't get in the way when we took Fezzik away with his bed, bowl and measuring cup for his food. Fezzik was doing just a bit better than when we'd left him, not panting quite as hard and not as glassy eyed, and he was moving a bit more easily, which was nice to see.
We took him home, unloaded him and fed him. He made it up the stairs okay and meandered about, finally settling in the middle of the new wood floor. He wasn't having nearly the trouble he had earlier in keeping his balance on the floors, so I was pretty glad of that. I wonder if the new finish is less slippery than the old one. John and I weren't all that hungry so I got a bucket out, put water and an old wash cloth in it and went upstairs to run the wet cloth all over everything. Everything was covered in a fine film of wood dust from when they sanded the floors smooth, and it all had to come off. So I dusted all the door frames, every nook of the railing along the top balcony and then down the railing down the stairs. Every bare surface was gone over and some of them hadn't been gone over since we moved in, so it was generally a good thing for us. John took the vacuum cleaner upstairs and went over all the carpets and the two of us gradually worked our ways down. I did the closets and stuff. With the roar of the vacuum, Fezzik asked to go outside and he lay down on the front porch and happily watched the familiar neighborhood motions of the evening while John and I cleaned everything we could get at.
The entire kitchen was completely layered in dust, every counter, cabinet door and surface over the cabinets. John went over all of that with the wet cloth while I finally got hungry. The stove was sitting outside, but we had the microwave and toaster oven. I nuked tomato soup and used the waffle iron to toast grilled cheese sandwiches that turned out really yummy. For some reason, for most of the weekend, my stomach wasn't particularly happy with me, perhaps just from all the unfamiliar food or something, and the sandwich and soup seemed to just settle everything.
I eventually joined Fezzik outside in the cold night air. I just sat next to him and he laid his head on my lap and I petted him all over. His throat lymph nodes seem to only be a tiny bit smaller than when we picked him up and when I went over him gently, his rear leg nodes were just huge still. I guess I had expected the more radical 8 hour procedure to do at least as well as the single shot had done to start, and because it was pretty obvious that Fezzik's recovery, this time, wasn't nearly as fast and it may well not happen, as I was used to the other drug working nearly immediately. It made me cry rather a lot. Mostly just sorry that I couldn't do more for him. He just leaned against me into my hugs and let me cry on him. Not that he had any idea why I was crying, but he was pretty obviously happy to be with me and let me hug him and pet him while I was carrying on.
I stopped, eventually, and went back in and worked a while longer on putting things in place and when I went back out again he was lying on his outdoor bed. I settled next to him and he leaned against me again, the only warm spot in the cold and getting colder night. I just petted him and watched the stars and the moon and the sounds of this place that's now very much his, and finally relaxed a bit. I heard the birds and some coyotes yipping in the distance. I watched as people got home or puttered in their garages, and listened as a plane took off. There's lots for him to see and watch and listen to in his domain, and I could now see why it's definitely more interesting than sleeping in the house where nothing happens at night. I got cold, however, and gave him one last hug and he licked me as I went into the house.
Being home is such a blessing. A bed that's familiar, familiar sounds and scents, and an environment that doesn't keep changing.