Family Style

Since this morning, I have shoveled and swept snow three times. Why? Easy! I like shoveling snow, as long as there's not too much of it. I like being outside in it, although I can't really recommend carrying breakfast home through it when that involves cups (plural) of hot coffee. I stopped a few times to speak to friends on the way and collect good wishes, because I think everybody on the Hill knows when my transplant is happening. So, my morning was nice with Kenya AA, a walk in the snow, and plenty of smiles.

Afternoon was lunch with Dad. Mom came along because it would give her an excuse to get out of the house. She scares me some days in her strong resemblance to an agoraphobic. We ordered the family style seafood lunch at this place in Little Saigon. Little Saigon isn't really a neighborhood as much as it is a shopping center. They proudly display the flag of Viet Nam right alongside the Stars and Stripes. Go figure.

The appetizers were mussles in a warm sauce with scallions and clams with onions, herbs and chili peppers with a peanut sauce; both were excellent. Everything was just lovely until Dad ordered coffee. When the waiter, who barely spoke English, asked what kind of coffee, Dad said something about strong, French coffee. Well, if he had wanted espresso that's what he should have ordered. We got these little cups with contraptions on top. You're supposed to let the first bit drip through, then I think pour more hot water in. Then you stir, and you hit the mother lode: sweetened condensed milk. Mmmmmm. So sweet and satisfying. I'm not ordinarily a fan of stuff in my coffee, but Vietnamese coffee prepared right is very nice.

Dad, well, he drinks his coffee black.

I think we're all fairly calm about the surgery and my prospects for a meaningful, successful recovery. That's good. Scott and Ellen (the donor and his wife) arrived in Washington today in the middle of our pitiful but pretty snowfall. They came from Colorado, and it probably looks like nothing to them.

I will see them tomorrow when we meet at the transplant center for some kind of to-do that's not all that important, except for the blood tests. More blood tests.

I hope I have some blood left.

As I was saying, I feel pretty good about everything. I don't know exactly what's going to happen, but I know what I have to do, and I feel like I'm going to be OK.

That's a relief.

before - after