Today’s PET scan took three hours, an hour longer than we were told it would require. My skepticism as to doctors’ timely estimates has been justified. I am, in fact, surprised that it didn’t take longer, given foregoing experience.
In thirty minutes I will meet my mother at BART’s Embarcadero station in San Francisco. From there we will go out to dinner and then we’ll attend tonight’s performance of the San Francisco Symphony. (I’ve been a season subscriber for many years.) A former graduate student of my father will keep my dad company this evening. I know he will love the opportunity to talk shop uninterrupted by such trivialities as my mother chronically trying to get him to eat.
Tonight’s activities don’t amount to much in the greater scheme of things but, hopefully and if only for a little while, my mom will be able to relax and set aside the worries and pressures that I know now plague her relentlessly–even if she does not reflect them.
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