Change of plans…
Nia was prepared.
Sketch pads, check.
Power cords, fancy crayons, how to draw a horse instructions, three books, and every piece of cancer related material she’s been given. Check.
On their way into the building, Calliope fought tears, while Nia filled out the self-directed computer check-in.
Thalia checked out lace bras through the gift shop window that are strategically situated directly across from the elevators.
“Great news from the doc, wasn’t it?” Thalia twirled. “Nothing they found on the scans is of concern going forward. Typist must just have a liver that runs high on enzymes.”
“Wasn’t it kind of Gretchen to come sit with us while the nurse inserted the port needle and administered the pre-meds?” asked Cal. “We’re learning so much about her and her family.”
“And then,” Thalia waved her arms around, “The prevent-allergic-reactions-drug went in and it felt like we’d smoked pot, drank a fifth of whiskey, and eaten an entire amaretto cheesecake.”
“We’ve never done that!” Urania snapped.
“We’re writers?” asked Thalia. “Creative license?”
A word from Typist.
One down, fifteen to go if the regimen holds.
I am certain the drugs are working to vanquish the intruders.
Biggest side effect so far is fatigue. The muses and I napped most of the day away.
We are now free from the clinic until Monday. 🎉