Back again

Little B. and I just returned from New York for an intermediary brivanib appointment. Despite the hundreds of miles and dollars expended, there was little medical content involved. They grabbed some blood, asked some questions, I turned in a diary, I saw a doctor, the doctor's minions gave me a prescription and scheduled a new set of appointments. That short sentence, by the way, contains about five hours of lived experience.

All that for a placebo.

The nice part was taking B. Early on, when I was frantically spinning the number of trips this trial was going to involve and the effect they would have on the family, I promised B. that I would take him along on one. I soon started feeling worse -- more exhaustion, more pain -- and skipped a plausible opportunity or two to take him. But I finally managed to do it this time. We met up with a beloved pre-school teacher/friend of the family and went to the natural history museum. B. and I hit a couple of our favorite restaurants, The Shake Shack and Frankie's. I sprung for the extortionate admissions fee to see the Intrepid, a World War II aircraft carrier turned giant aviation museum. We made some memories and, once again, proved there is room for joy in the midst of this horrible disease.