So, the other day Shawnna and I were getting ready for bed, standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the bathroom, worshipping before the great American altar that is a porcelain double vanity, and performing our respective evening ablutions. We became synchronous, unconsciously so, but synchronous nonetheless. She had her handful of nighttime pills and was popping them one at a time. I was doubling and tripling mine in random combinations. I have more than she, so we were still keeping time… like a couple of pharmacological Art Blakeys. An epiphanic clarity came over me; a clarity so palpable that I had no choice but to give it voice, “This is a stupid fucking ritual.” Tomorrow is gonna be a long week. At 8:20 I have a CT of my abdomen and pelvis with contrast . I think “with contrast” is when they shoot you full of radioactive fizzy water that makes it feel like you’re peeing in your pants when you’re really not. At 10:00, I have labs. Since I still have my central line port, this is relati