Friday, March 1, 2013

March 1st

March 1st, 1973: Dad went back to Quincy again today. Paul Beckenholt took him up. The treatments tire dad out pretty well, and he just rested tonight, listening to a basketball game.

March 1st, 2013: This marked the third day, and third consecutive cobalt treatment for dad. 90 miles, round trip, to Quincy and back. Plus the time at Blessing Hospital. It appears it was easier to make the trips than to keep him in the hospital. Given the choice, dad wouldn't have wanted to stay in the hospital anyway.

As I remember it, all the treatments were cobalt. I don't know if chemotherapy existed then. Or if it did, cobalt was deemed the best of two methods of treatment in dad's case. Cobalt treatment used gamma rays from cobalt 60, based on what I later learned. It was an expensive treatment. That brings up another interesting question. Dad was self-employed. I have no idea how our insurance worked back then. But I don't remember any talk of an extra financial burden from all of this. That was one less thing to worry about.

I have stated before. I don't know how long the treatments lasted. Being in school, I never went along. I remember him always being home by the time I got home from school. I'd ask general questions about his day, and he'd give me general answers. If I asked, he told me. He may have "sugar coated" some of it. But he wouldn't have lied. He hated liars.

I didn't note this in my original diary. But if he was going to Quincy everyday, and the treatments were tiring him. It's pretty safe to say he was not spending any time at the hardware store during this period of time. Very little, if any.

The fact that he listened to a basketball game that evening, indicates he must have been bored and looking for something to occupy his time. It was not like him to listen to sports on the radio. And this had to have been a high school game. A level of play far removed from his interest. Dad liked NFL football. And he had some interest in NBA basketball.

When I was really young, I detected a soft spot in his heart for the Boston Celtics. Not much, but a little. As boys do, they emulate their father. I jumped on the Celtics bandwagon around 1966, and rode it through the late 90's. Not a casual fan, I bled green for many years. Rabid. All thanks to some offhand comment dad made when I was six or seven years old.

It should be noted that today's "2013 recollection" is fresh. The notes I'd made in 1993, when I attempted this project once before, ended yesterday. From today on, it's all in my original diary entries, and in my head.

Not that it makes that much difference. What I remember from 1973 is just as fresh in my mind 40 years later as it was 20 years ago.




1 comment:

  1. Doll, I love this...the raw, intuitive manner in which you lead us into that Higbee kind of mentality. Our parents were my parents, your friends were our friends....That Photographer looking to capture...idk, life in the lense of a camera. That Chauntuse hoping to let those she ardently loved, (Dad, Mom, Jon Robb, Tom Johnson, Jill Roodhouse, and so many others LEAVE US BEFORE their time (or ours) had expired....we loved our Home Town. Adn to see it evaporate in this foul cloud of cancer, is despicable!!!!!!! I HATE CANCER!!!!!

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