Good morning! A new week begins, and with it, more progressâand setbacksâon the never-ending bathroom project. The towel bars are finally installed, so I can at least hang a towel like a civilized person. But the stair railing? Too short. We needed 16 feet and got 14. I thought maybe we could make it work, but the carpenter insists on doing it right. I appreciate his concern for safety, but if we donât get something installed soon, my early-morning, half-asleep descent might turn into an unplanned trip to the floor.
Good morning, all!
As I typed the number of days since my diagnosisâ222âit reminded me of the TV show Room 222 from the late â60s into the â70s. It was a comedy-drama set at Walt Whitman, a fictitious high school, in Los Angeles and tackled many of the same issues we still face todayâracial integration, the early LGBTQ movement, womenâs rights, politics, war, and other controversial topics.
I was in sixth grade when the show debuted, on my way to seventh grade at Jack Benny Junior High.
Good morning, and welcome to the weekend!
Friday Recap: A Busy Day That Wore Me Out
Physical Therapy (PT) I have a new PTâDiane. Maggie, who is eight months pregnant, had to pass me over to another therapist just in case she delivers early. Maggie is all smiles, all positivity, and wants her clients to enjoy therapy. Makes senseâyou want people to actually follow instructions between sessions.
Diane, on the other hand, is direct and to the point.
Good morning!! âď¸
Yesterdayâs post sparked some responses, so I wanted to add a few more details to complete the Chile earthquake story.
After the longest three minutes of terror in my life, everyone stayed outside, bracing for the aftershocks. I connected with two of my coworkers, but the third was nowhere to be seen. We waited over an hour, and he never came out. Not knowing if there was any internal damage to the hotel, we feared the worstâthat one of the floors had collapsed and he was pancake trapped or worse.
Good morning, everyone!
Just over 15 years ago, on January 10, 2010, a devastating 7.0 earthquake struck Haiti, lasting a mere 30 seconds but causing unimaginable destruction. I still remember watching the footageâentire buildings collapsing, people trapped between layers of concrete like a collapsed stack of pancakes. By the time the final count was in, around 250,000 lives had been lost. It was terrifying to see the rescue teams working against the clock and the relentless aftershocks, desperately trying to pull survivors from the rubble.
Good morning, everybody.
Tax day yesterday was refreshingly uneventfulâno wild returns, no last-minute disasters. A couple of people asked about my cane, and I gave them the honest answer: ALS. I managed to do so without an emotional flood, which was easier since the people asking didnât seem particularly emotional either.
One person didnât know what ALS was, and I wasnât eager to launch into the full breakdown of A-meeee-Ĺ-TROHHH-fic Lat-errr-all Scler-ĹĹ-sisâespecially considering my uncooperative tongue, which already struggles with saying âSocial Security.
Good morning, all!
Another Tuesday, another tax day. Itâs getting to the end. I wonder what surprises and emotions will surface today. Most days, I feel like Iâve got a fairly good handle on my emotions, and thenâWHAMâsomething or someone reaches deep into my heart and soul and triggers the tears. I never know when itâs coming, but Iâm grateful that I can mostly talk about my ALS these days without a total breakdown.
Good morning, everybody!
St. Patrickâs Day is finally here after a full weekend of celebrating the holiday, which means by now, youâre out of green outfits, tired of drinking green beer, had plenty of corned beef, orâif youâre one of the newly minted 21-year-oldsâprobably feeling a little green around the gills. SoâŚhappy St Patrickâs Day for the last time this year.
This day always brings a smile to my face. Ten years ago, I was forcibly retired from Mosaic.
Good morning, friends and family scattered throughout the world.
As I sit here on this quiet Sunday, Iâm grateful for a blank calendar. No appointments, no obligationsâjust a good day to chip away at family tax returns. I know, taxes arenât exactly thrilling, but for me, theyâve been oddly therapeutic. They require focus but not much physical effortâŚperfect for me.
When it comes to physical effort, thatâs a different story. My occupational therapist suggested I use one-pound weights for upper body exercises.
Good morning, everyone! Or, for those of you who I just learned read these posts late in the dayâgood night.
Yesterdayâs dentist visit went better than expected. Back in the day, I wasnât exactly a model flosser. My old hygienist never let me forget it, especially when my gums turned into a crime scene during cleanings. But when I started seeing Cindyâs dentist, Dr. Julie, I decided to step up my gameâmostly.
Good morning and Happy St. Patrickâs Day weekend! âď¸
We have an early dentist appointment this morning, and Iâm already bracing myself. I seriously considered making my last cleaning my last cleaningâmy teeth donât hurt, so why bother? But I like my dentist, Dr. Julie. Not the cleaning, just her. We always have a great âconversation,â which consists of her asking thoughtful questions while I respond with muffled grunts.
Dr. Julie: So, howâs tax season going?
Good morning, friends and family. The bathroom remodel should end todayâthough The plumber is coming after his regular union job to install all the fixtures in the bathroom and Iâm most excited about the bidet. Everything Iâve read says itâs a game changer for personal hygiene and independence, and frankly, Iâm all for anything that makes life easier.
That said, I have a complicated history with bidets. Nicole and Zack have one in their basement bathroom, and Iâve had a couple of incidentsâletâs just say, when you accidentally activate an unexpected Arctic blast, you wake up faster than with any cup of coffee.
Good morning, world!
Yesterday was another exhausting tax day. My âGod wink,â Jim, returned for his review. The moment we saw each other, we both smiled. A brief chat, a warm connectionâthen he sat with another counselor while I tried to refocus on my own client. But my mind kept drifting back to Jimâhis health struggles, his compassion for mine. When he finished, he made a point to come back, leaned in, and whispered, âKeep fighting and keep your spirits up.
Good morning, everyone.
Itâs another Tax Tuesday, which means I expect to see Jim, my new client from last Thursday, back to finish his return. Iâve thought about him often since we metâmaybe too often. A small, irrational part of me worries that his congenital heart failure might have taken him. But then I shake that off and remind myselfâheâs got the spirit of a âFighting Irishâ warrior. âď¸ Heâll be there, bright and early, with his wife, ready to tackle the numbers once again.
Day 209
Good morning, everyone! Up and at âem at 4:01 a.m. todayâback to business as usual. Good to know I donât have to play the “spring forward, fall back” game again for another 237 days. Seriously, can we all just agree to leave the clocks alone?
Yesterday, the moving crewâŚalso known as âfamily always has your backââŚarrived to help shuffle the big furniture back into the bedroom. Huge thanks to Mark, Barb, Donna, and Joe!
Good morning, and welcome to time-change hellâwhere the clocks shift, and my body remains hopelessly confused.
I have this habit (some might call it a disorder) of waking up between 3:30 and 4:00 a.m. every day. So, when I woke up at 3:30 a.m. new time, my half-asleep brain immediately screamed, “Wait! Thatâs 2:30 a.m. old time! You cannot get up yet!” Like a responsible adult, I rolled over and tried to sleep some more. But the problem with playing time-zone gymnastics in your head is that every time you glance at the clock, you have to do math. And math at 4:30 a.m. (or was it 3:30?) is not my strong suit. I went through this cycle of confusion until finally, at 6:15 a.m. (definitely new timeâI think), I admitted defeat and got out of bed.
Why do we still do this time-change nonsense? Who exactly is in charge of the clocks, and why do they hate us? Now that the shift has happened, I assume weâre on daylight savings time⌠or standard time⌠or some kind of time. Iâll figure it out once Iâm fully awakeâso, maybe by Wednesday.
Yesterday, the painters arrived bright and early at 6:45 a.m. (old time, for those still tracking at home) and worked until 4:30 p.m. (new time). These guys put in another full day of work while I inadvertently signed up for a full day of Spanish immersion. One of the painters was a talkerâa nonstop stream of conversation. I nodded along like I understood, but by the end of the day, I had learned about as much Spanish as I did in high school: nada.
By late afternoon, it was time to head out to The Breakers to celebrate Markâs leap-year birthday. Geoff and Kristen made the long trek from the city to join us, and as we pulled into the parking lot at 5:00 p.m., I was surprised to see that most of the spaces were already full. Strange, considering the restaurant had only opened an hour earlier. Theresa seniors were out in full force again. Fortunately, Barb had the foresight to make a reservation, 24 hours earlier. There were only two open tables when we walked in.
The evening was filled with good company, delicious Chinese food, and a couple of dangerously strong Mai Tais. I made the wise decision to avoid the burger this timeâlast Sundayâs attempt had left me with something resembling a hockey puck on a bun, which wasnât suitable for the âdoggy bagâ. Excellent choice, because dinner was fantastic, and the time with family was even better. Two Mai Tais in, fortune cookies consumed, and winning lottery numbers lost somewhere on the table.
Mark paid the dinner billâŚnot sure how that worksâŚit was his birthday! Thanks Mark. Barb offered to escort me to the car, which seems to be a new thing with me. Find a female and lean helplessly into themâŚnext thing ya know they are holding me tight. đGiven that our parking spot was practically in another zip code, it really was helpful. Thanks, Barb.
This morning, the electrician is scheduled to arrive at 8:00 a.m. (new timeâprobably) to hook things up. Itâs supposed to take just a couple of hours, but based on my track record of estimating project timelines, Iâll go ahead and assume weâre looking at a full day. After this, the only major task left is installing the bathroom plumbing fixtures.
Well⌠technically thatâs not the last thing. Weâve got a small crew coming in to clean the bedroom and move the furniture back in. But once thatâs done, life should finally start to resemble something normal again.
In the meantime, I think Iâll head back to bedâjust to make absolutely sure Iâm adjusted to this new time
Have a great Sunday! Tomorrow should feel more normal.
Day 207
Good morning, friends, family, and curious internet wanderers.
The Perks of an Uncounted Audience One thing I appreciate about this blog is that it doesnât count how many people read it. Thereâs something comforting about thatâit still feels like an intimate space, which makes it easier for me to write honestly. Iâm still typing away on my iPhone, and I plan to keep it that way. Iâve tried using my computer, but thereâs just too much intimidating white space staring back at me.
Day 206
Good morning, everybody.
Just when I thought I had a grip on my emotions, the bottom dropped out early in the day.
I was reading a comment on the blogâa message from one of Cindyâs longtime high school besties. It was full of kindness, compassion, and encouragement. I had read it a few times already, and each time, it brought tears to my eyes. Cindy hadnât seen it yet, so I tried to read it aloud to her.
Day 205
Good morning, all.
Walking, Chewing Gum, and Nearly DyingâAgain Itâs well established that my walking is, letâs say, challenged, and swallowing isnât exactly my strong suit either. On Tuesday, while prepping taxes, a couple sat down, and the wife offered me a stick of gum. Naturally, the first thought in my head: Is my breath bad? But no, she was just being nice.
So, I pop the gum in, take a couple of chews, andâbamâinstant juiciness overload.
Day 204
Good morning, family and friends!
Another day, another tax return. Yesterday was a long oneâwe didnât leave until after the bank had closed. Iâve often wondered what would happen if we accidentally got locked in overnight. The conference room, where we work, is in the basement surrounded by concrete walls with no cell service. Not exactly a prime setting for an escape thriller. In ten years of doing this, not once has a bank employee checked to see if we actually made it out before locking up.
