Please find the patient, doped to the gills, being patient with his doting Elizabeth.
All I did was ask for a smile.
We will begin this report with the technical stuff. Kirk and his doctors, who are many, have agreed that there will not be more surgery any time soon. Kirk’s cancer is now considered systemic and it will be fought with a medication that fits the profile of its own private madness. The good docs of OHSU (Oregon Health and Science University) have mapped the genome of the cancer and matched it to an existing medication called Dasatinib. He started taking it on 12/07/14 where upon it turned his stomach and gave him horrible headaches. Both of these symptoms have calmed down, he soldiers on and we wait for a negative to be proven.
There are many saints who made this trip possible. Vickie, Richard, Liz & Tim, you know who you are. Saren and Jake, who simply rented our guest room, took us to the airport. We are standing in a rainbow of love. Because of all of this help we arrived at Portland International at 7:55am and were in Kirk’s hospital room by 10. It was so easy! We went downstairs and got our bags, two of which carried our sleeping bags, and went to the trolley which took us downtown. The connection to the #8 bus took about three minutes and we were on our way up the hill to the hospital. I love traveling in Portland, it’s like traveling in Europe, so easy.
OHSU is on a steep hill on the west side of Portland that was given to Oregon University at the beginning of the last century by a railroad baron named Jackson. It was a hill, he couldn’t lay rail on it. On said hill there are multiple hospitals, a VA, a Shriners and OHSU which is by far the largest. It is in fact huge. We got lost and mightily frustrated but finally achieved our aim, that being, Kirk. He was as you see him, full dressed, with his lung tube already out and waiting for his iv tube to be removed.
We parked our bags in his room and I began to fidget. That’s what I do in hospitals. Although deeply appreciative of the excellent care they give, what I want from hospitals is to get my beloveds out. Kirk had a splendid nurse who really knew his stuff. This was good because getting the iv shunt off of K’s hand was rather difficult. Basically nail polish remover was used to get rid of the adhesive. I questioned if we needed to get same on our way to Kirk’s abode. No, said the grandpa Philip, the girl loves nail polish and has her own remover.
Kirk was finally released about 2pm. This surprised the patient and the patient’s father. They were expecting about 6pm. I am so glad that they gave him to me when they did. It’s a very good hospital and it would have been just awful if I’d had to burn it down. As has been previously stated, “Just give me my beloved and nobody gets hurt.”
Once out in the world, Kirk took us the pretty way to his home. Our way wound along Terwilliger until we got to the 5, down to the 205 and thence to the great metropolitan center of West Linn OR . West Linn is a lovely little town and Kirk’s place is very cozy. This pleased me no end and I took my grandma place, straightening up the kitchen. People who work or are trying to wrangle a 6 year old and cancer cannot make a workspace the way I want. It was so easy to make sense of that little galley kitchen.
Then I opened the refrigerator. Two big foil pans, one of Culolias mac & cheese and one of barley and chicken. In the freezer was rigatoni and ragout and something else my poor brain can’t remember. Where in the world did all of that food come from? Who brought such love to my son and granddaughter? Her name is Nancy Nicholas Culolias Tyree and she is the younger sister of my best friend. The two Culolias girls put their gorgeous heads together in order to take care of Kirk. Nancy lives in Boring, about 25 minutes from West Linn, and just showed up. Kirk’s roommate Alison told the story. It was in the morning, maybe after nine, when there was knock on the kitchen door. Alison opened it and there laden with food stood Nancy. Alison had never met Nancy, Kirk had never met Nancy. This saint introduced herself as Liz’s sister, deposited her gifts, and went on her way. (Now I must describe Culolias mac & cheese. In a béchamel, multiple cheeses are melted and cooked with sausage and pasta. If you want to make someone strong after illness, feed them Culolias mac & cheese. With that and some salad, one can heal the world.)
Mathilda knew her grandfather very well and was happy to have him back. She is a smart girl and, sadly, has made the connection between her daddy being sick and her grandfather coming to visit. I was pretty new to her. She kind of remembered me from our Thanksgiving visit two years before. For the first day or so, she checked me out. But I was with Grandpa, so I must be ok.
It was Thanksgiving and the real problem was Mathilda’s father. Kirk has known me, and well, since he was 10 years old. We are two Piceans who have been swimming around each other for 25 years. That knowledge made my son a trifle over-careful on the subject of Thanksgiving Dinner. He was quite concerned that I wanted to make a turkey dinner, with St. Cranberry and all fixings. So I cornered him in the kitchen, gave him the Mammy Yokum single whammy and asked, “What do you want?” What he wanted was steak, New York Strip for him and Spencer for us, scalloped potatoes, brussels spouts, orange and red-onion salad etc. We bought some nice wine, dined well and comfortably. I was so thankful to be able to cook for my family.
Friday it rained cats dogs and wildebeests. We went, en famille, to the Oregon Museum of Science & Industry. This is a terrific place, probably the best of its kind I’ve ever seen. Set in the industrial area right by the mighty Willamette, there are so many hands on displays and things to see and do. Kirk in his wisdom has a membership and the Girl never tires of the place. There is a blue screen interactive display where the youngsters can put on their very own invisibility cloaks. After our science experiments we went to a cozy watering hole of Kirk’s knowledge. He and his father drank very good beer, the Girl drew pictures while dining on really good mac & cheese. I had a good martini and the best burger I’ve ever put my teeth on.
Now I must speak of rivers. I am afraid of rivers. I know the Sacramento, both at her magical source in Redwood Park, Shasta City, and her broad delta that feeds so many. I have seen the great Colorado as a green ribbon, cutting through the Grand Canyon. It was a mile down so it seemed safe. My fear comes from what rivers, big rivers, can and will do. The destruction they wreak is difficult to describe. With all of her locks and controls, the mighty Missouri/Mississippi can cover the middle part of our nation with water. She has done it in the long past, she can do it again. Portland is a city of rivers.
We went to Kirk and Mathilda’s closest city park. Let it be known that there are three parks in the city of West Linn (pop. 25,425) and Willamette Park was Kirk’s choice. While the grandpa did his best impersonation of Charlie Lau and the Girl really hit the ball, I gingerly walked down to the River. This park is where a smaller river, the Tualatin, joins her mother Willamette. The water, in late fall, is grey green and inexorable. The Tualatin, like all of her sisters, must go to the Willamette and She must go to the great mother Columbia and the Columbia must go to the Pacific. They are all scary as hell and so beautiful. What shall I do?
Sunday we got a lovely visit with Fay and Frank in an handsome and delicious little bistro close to their place. They live very close to the Episcopal Cathedral of Portland. There is good music to be made there and in the larger city.
Portland is no longer an unknown for me. It is a beautiful city with family, friends and real live rapid transit. I am so tired of the stasis of applications and interviews that lead to silence. Ok Portland, what do you need? Give my man a job and we will come.
the Putnams glorious
the Putnams glorious
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