Sunday, December 7, 2025 – Day 481

Sunday, December 7, 2025

Good morning, everyone.

Today marks 84 years since the attack on Pearl Harbor, “a date which will live in infamy.” We owe the men and women of this era so very much. Thank you for your service.

The downstairs powder room has always been the one space I resisted modifying. Maybe that sounds silly, but holding on to something “normal” has mattered to me. One untouched room felt like a small victory…a way to slow the march of ALS inside our home. But it’s gotten too dangerous, and pretending otherwise is no longer an option.

A couple of weeks ago, Tim installed a grab bar in that bathroom…a loving first step. The very next day, I parked the rollator at the doorway (too narrow for it to pass through), and as I used my hands to steady myself, I misstepped. One awkward shift, and I hit the floor. Hard. It was the second fall in that tiny room…and it happened less than 24 hours after making it “safer.” I felt embarrassed, frustrated, and honestly a little defeated. I hated acknowledging that fall.

Yesterday, Joe and Donna showed up with tools in hand. They were ready to tackle the doorway and didn’t think twice about the work involved. Swing-clear hinges were being added, providing nearly two inches of extra width to the entryway, but they required careful chiseling and patience…two things they brought in abundance. For over an hour and a half, I listened from the living room. No snapped tempers, no raised voices…just good teamwork. When they finished, the rollator slid through the doorway like it belonged there all along.

And Donna, being the force she is, kept going…replacing burned-out bulbs, patching the back porch plastic, fixing what she could, the way people do when they love you and want to lighten your load. Thank you so much.

Today, Alex will install the bidet seat and toilet safety bars. After that, maybe…just maybe…the powder room will finally be ADA compliant. And hopefully I won’t add a third fall to the scorecard.

The truth is, I hate all these changes. I hate that every few months another part of our home becomes a construction zone. I hate watching rooms shift, furniture disappear, and hallway corners turn into safety zones.

But what’s hardest is watching the toll it takes on Cindy. She’s the steady pair of hands behind so many of these decisions…planning, shifting, organizing, protecting. She moves things quietly, without complaint, even when she’s exhausted or overwhelmed. I see all of it. Every bit. And I’m grateful in ways I can’t fully put into words. Which many times I can’t. She didn’t ask for any of this, but she shows up…every single day…with love and determination. She is the real strength in this house.

But there’s still good here…more than good. Today we’re working on Christmas cards with a few volunteer elves coming by. I’m looking forward to that. These small acts of connection, these familiar traditions…they help comfort me. They keep joy in the house, even as everything shifts around us.

Have a great Sunday. Go Bears!!! 🐻
Love you guys! ❤️

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