This is the best ceiling ever. Over the last 18 years since I had my first surgery in 1990, I have stared at many ceilings. Some ceilings cracked, some not, different colors, acoustic tile, fans, beams, moldings, air-conditioner vents, recessed lighting, all different types of lighting fixtures. I’ve thought about taking pictures of all the ceilings that I ‘ve had to stare at over the years…thought it would make a funny coffee table book. I’ve stared at these ceilings in different stages of my repair and recovery…to the point where it’s become a thing, sort of a Pavlovian thing. I cannot lie in bed and stare at a ceiling without having all those sick feeling memories flow over me. If I’m well, I’m not lying in bed too much; I have to get up and out.
I checked into the Liberty Hotel yesterday (Monday)…I love this place. I love that they offered me a glass of champagne (which I declined-but loved that they offered). I love that they offered me a beautiful ripe plum; I love the cool neutral tans and browns that decorate and adorn the room. I love that it was a former jail and that they’ve kept all the original brick and architecture. I love that the hotel restaurant is called the “Clink”. I love the fluffiest of down pillows and comforter. I love the shower that sits above my head (not at my chin). I love the Molton Brown bath products, I love the smells, and I even love the ceiling. It’s a tray ceiling, painted a calm linen white…there’s not one thing off-putting about it. I love it here in this spa-like room. I feel better just being here, certainly improves radiation Monday. I could live here.
When it was time to go to Proton, it was just a quick fifteen giant steps to get there and to get back. Being able to skip the stairs at the apartment, and the usual buying and unpacking of Whole Food items on this day, gave me a bit of an energy reserve. After radiation, I was acutally up for dinner in the North End with my friend Sandy. Sandy drove me up to Boston, went with me to Proton, ate with me, and incredibly drove back the same day. It was, I dare say, as these days go…a good day. I felt a bit more like me.
I wish every day was Monday at the Liberty Hotel.