Dear sisters,
I will not bore you with how much I love this city. Yes, I will bore you with how much I love this city. I love this city. An honest attempt is made to run you over in this city.
But you know all this.
Unfortunately I have been and am now back. For four days and three nights, I did not think about hospitals. My old but still so beautiful friends, Dagmar and Juliette, flew in from Amsterdam. We shared a corner room on the 16th floor, with glass on two sides, on the Lower East Side. We could have stayed in the room all weekend and watched the view as the sun came up and the sun went down, and been perfectly happy.
Up
Down
That is different to the hotel A. and I had the first time we came to NYC to visit you S2. You had so kindly booked a room for us, somewhere on Broome street if I recall correctly. The room was good, huge by NY standards. With a nice enough view of a wall. And that for $50. (a long time ago.) It was the very pale, stone faced receptionist sitting behind bars that got to us after a while. She did not smile once, although we did our best. It was scaaarry.
No stony faced receptionists at our boutique hotel this weekend. We also did not pay $50 a night.
We did eventually venture out onto the streets, after we had decided which sensible shoes to wear.
We did the art bit, saw a movie, shopped ourselves into a zombie like state, and had ourselves taken care of, but most importantly we just talked within arms length distance of one another.
We did not engage in NY night life much, this time, but made plans for later. First more babies and less cancer (me).
On the way home I listened to the voicemail from the hospital confirming my appointments for the coming months. Chemo starts next Tuesday.
Love, S1
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