It’s hard to believe that it’s been over two months since I’ve written anything.  I spent many days getting things ready for the tax preparer.  Still my taxes aren’t done.  Two weeks trying to keep the store open with three of my eight employees out with COVID and another week with Scott in the hospital unexpectedly.  I had high hopes of submitting something in the local writing contest in February but that didn’t happen.

Even more astounding is that it’s been over a year since this painful journey began. The story begins and will end on vacation.

Looking back, it looks as though I was at my wit’s end in mid-January when I last reported.  We FINALLY received payments from AFLAC after filing multiple complaints.  Can you say too little too late?  I still have more claims to file but can’t seem to get motivated to start the process all over again.  Scott’s return to the hospital lasted about a week and he has been feeling incredibly better since then.  So much so, we headed out on a much-needed vacation on Friday, February 24^th with his doctor’s permission. 

Several friends had extended offers for us to stay with them if we could get away; so, we decided to take them all up on their offers.  We also wanted to spend some time in Nashville, Tennessee again.  We considered going to the Grand Ole Opry but ultimately decided to look for something unique.  I found a concert venue in Pelham, Tennessee; more specifically The Caverns.  Larry Fleet was going to be there on Saturday the 25^th so I purchased tickets for that Saturday night making our trip official.  We were going to a concert in a cave.  No turning back now.

Scott packed his vacation shirt and I did the 101 things necessary to be gone for two weeks, everything from making all the reservations to cleaning out the refrigerator.  We dropped Zeus off at Grandma’s and left the house almost on time that Friday morning.  Equally amazing was the fact that we arrived at our hotel in Nashville approximately the time we had mapped out.  Anyone that has traveled with us knows that a trip that maps out at say 7 hours will end up taking us about 10 hours.  We checked into our hotel and inquired about the free shuttle to downtown Nashville.  After learning that there was only one shuttle and he was already downtown, we decided to walk.  After all, the hotel advertised that they were within walking distance to all the activities on Broadway.  That is if you are a high school track star.  It turned out to be about a mile and half uphill from all the activities.  Walking downhill was sure better than the reverse but walking that far on a decline in cowboy boots comes with its own challenges.  After being in the car all day, the walk wasn’t all that bad.  That was until we reached our first destination and I was carded.  I immediately knew what I had done.  In packing my phone case to avoid carrying my purse, I had forgotten to include my driver’s license.  I knew better.  Imagine my frustration; I just drove seven hours, then walked a mile and half, fully anticipating enjoying a high-priced drink, only to be carded.  Needless to say, Scott dialed up the shuttle man and asked him to pick us up and take us back to the hotel.  We were able to catch a ride back downtown relatively quickly so it wasn’t a total bust.  We had to laugh, of all the iconic places to reference in downtown Nashville, our driver was picking us up in front of the Apple Store.  Nice young man but he obviously didn’t come to Nashville for the country music. 

We returned to our favorite bar from our last visit which has ironically been renamed “Losers”.  No wonder we felt so at home there.  We got seats right by the band and stayed for dinner.   Most of the really popular places were packed so we avoided them.  We did some more sightseeing in the morning and headed out in the late afternoon for our next stop.  I had booked a room in a place called the Smokehouse Lodge in Monteagle, TN.  It’s been in the same family for over 60 years.  They had a fire a couple years ago that took down their entire restaurant.  So they remodeled their shop into a make-shift eating establishment complete with live music.  We ate off paper plates and drank bottled beer and water.  I ordered pulled pork; my sides were Brussel sprouts and cucumber salad.    You know, trying to be healthy.  Imagine our surprise when they brought out three FULL plates of food – just for me.  I think it was about 3 pounds of Brussel sprouts, probably 3 cucumbers sliced with a tomato or two and a hefty pile of sliced onions; with a bottle of Italian dressing.  It was really a shame since we had no way of keeping our left-overs.  Scott’s food all came on one plate but we really don’t know why they were different.  The best part was that it was probably the cheapest meal of our entire vacation; around $30 including tip. 

The concert was really good.  Unfortunately, it was a decent walk from the parking lot to the cave and the drive to it was probably the most fog I had ever driven in so that made me nervous about getting back to the hotel.  The acoustics were great and there wasn’t a bad seat in the place; because there were NO seats.  After a rather long day of walking around Nashville, we could only do 3 hours on our feet before we had to make the decision to leave before it was over.  Thankfully the fog was a little better on the return trip and we had a restful night. 

Our next stop was Valdosta, GA at a Drury Inn by recommendation.  We would certainly recommend Drury Inn’s as well.  Not only did we each get three free drink tickets at check-in; they also provided a full supper meal.  It appeared that they cater to an older crowd.  They knew what they were doing with that plan; I’m pretty sure we weren’t the only guests that were in bed by 8 p.m. with full bellies and a nice buzz.   Makes for a really quiet establishment.  In hindsight, it was a great way to celebrate Day 200 post-transplant.

Monday had us heading for Palm Harbor, Florida to have lunch with Scott’s former brother-in-law and his wife and daughter.  They provided a great lunch and we really enjoyed our short visit to their beautiful place.  Thanks to supper traffic, our one-hour drive turned into two; making us late for supper at our next stop.  The drive from Palm Harbor to Lake Placid was diversified.  It started out with busy city traffic and ended with sights and sounds of farm country.  Orange trees, sugar cane and quite a few cattle.  This stop was with my girlfriend and former co-worker at Farm Credit and her husband.  It was easy to see why this part of the state was so attractive to this retired farm couple.  The next day, he and Scott went for skid loader parts and a tour of farm country while she and I toured the town, admiring all the murals, did some shopping at Beall’s and stopped at the former Farm Credit office for a photo before hitting the lake for some sun.    

Wednesday we went on an airboat ride.  Rather than going for a large boat with many people on Lake Okeechobee, we chose to go to a smaller operation where he took just the four of us and was a really good tour guide.  We saw several gators, lots of birds and even saw a dead gator being destroyed by other gators.  It was an enjoyable adventure.  After a quick lunch we were back on the road.  This time headed to Fort Lauderdale.  Just to say we went there.  We spent a little time in the deserted pool and had a great meal at Smoky Bones.  The next morning, we spent a little time on Hollywood Beach before heading to the Keys to spend a few days with another good friend.  Hard to believe our vacation was half over already. 

This was another relaxing stay at another beautiful home.  Our friends had just purchased it this year and we were some of their first guests.  We enjoyed the pool, the thatched cabana and all the fish in the canal out the back door.  She and I went shopping at Beall’s – my new favorite store and got groceries for what ended up being several terrific surf and turf meals there.  I was surprised to find that both clothing and groceries weren’t any more there than they had been at home. 

We also got to go on a fishing charter on their son’s boat with one of his very capable and patient captains.  He kept pretty busy keeping bait on all our lines.  Scott caught a couple small sharks, I caught a puffer fish and we all caught some really pretty silver fish that we threw back as well.  They were more of a bait fish.  We ended up with a nice batch of Mangrove snapper that fed us most of the week as well as gave us a meal to take to our next stop to share there.  The water was amazingly calm and before we were done for the day we saw a whole bunch of dolphins; some very curious and coming right up to our boat.  I have a feeling we smelled like dead fish so they were interested. 

We took a trip to Key West but decided to see that mostly by car rather than walk since it was fairly crowded.  We had another great meal in town and enjoyed the people-watching entertainment factor of the whole area.  Another great stop on our tour.  I think we were up for sunset every morning; enjoying that on our friends’ deck.  Then later crossing the street to her son’s house to enjoy sunset on his upper deck.  Certainly, the life if you can get it.  We left there feeling very relaxed and rested. 

Next was a quick stop at Scott’s niece’s place in Cape Coral where she provided cookies and lemonade and another photo op.  Our final destination; near Port Charlotte and Englewood.  There we stayed with one couple and enjoyed wonderful hospitality as well.  Each day we got together with other couples in the same area where we enjoyed the beautiful sunshine, warm pools, friendly card games and great company. We went for a pontoon ride for 14 in the Gulf where we saw more dolphins and I was able to do a little shell hunting. Four more days of total enjoyment with beloved friends.  

Day fifteen found us back on the road again; trying to avoid Atlanta, Georgia at rush hour.  After rising with the sun every day on vacation, we were able to leave Florida at 6:30 a.m.  By now Scott was feeling so good that he even did some of the driving home.  After about 10 hours on the road, we had a disagreement with our navigation lady and fought our way through Atlanta, despite her.  We made it to Columbus, Tennessee before calling it a day.  Twice on our trip we experienced something new.  Our navigation system was “speaking” and suddenly paused and said “I’m sorry, let’s try that again”.  Thanks for the apology but I’ve already missed my exit!  Over all she was a great help and I can’t imagine driving what ended up being over 3000 miles without her.    

We certainly feel blessed to have been able to be gone for two full weeks.  My employees did a great job while I was gone and I really did very limited work during our time away.  We got up early to enjoy full days and while he did enjoy a drink or two occasionally, his doctor report on the Monday of our return showed his liver and kidney numbers very good; no harm done.  After all that we went through in the past year, I certainly felt that we deserved a few days of sunshine and relaxation but even more so we felt blessed to be able to go.  We had survived what we hope to be the most horrific year of our lives.  Literally, financially, mentally and physically.  I say “we” because while it happened to him, thankfully he doesn’t remember all of it.  I may not have had to suffer the physical pain of his ailment; but my memories remain very vivid.  This post-apocalyptic adventure allowed us to see what our friends are doing in Florida and see them enjoy each other and their respective retirement years.  We saw a glimpse of what we would like our future to be.  Chemo brain still raises it’s ugly head occasionally but we feel like the worm has turned. 

We went to his appointment on Monday with a whole new view.  I drove without concern or worry; no longer fearing the two-hour journey. He was feeling great.  Even with our exit closed, we got there on time.  This visit, we were looking healthy and rested and even a little bit tan despite the SPF 100 sun screen.  We knew how to navigate the parking and get to his appointments without worry.  No longer one of the many people wearing faces of terror and panic about where their lives were heading.  Now we were able to help other people get where they needed to be.  

Don’t hate us because we look healthy, but please look at us and know that recovery is possible.  We look forward to enjoying all that life has to offer.  Seeing things through different lenses now that we realize that a healthy tomorrow isn’t always a guarantee and feeling like together; we can do anything.    

Here we are; mid-way through Day 2 back at 7-West in University of Michigan’s Bone Marrow Transplant Unit.  I’m back to delving into research on the internet and Scott is sleeping.  I’m not sure that I’m glad that he’s sleeping again but at least he’s not concentrating on how much he is itching.  It seems that he might be allergic or at least sensitive to the Vancomycin that they are giving him for a blood infection. 

I think I have mentioned that for the past month, he has been on the edge of going downhill or at a minimum no longer improving.  He’s been sleeping 80% of the time and has lost his desire to go outside and work on his projects in the barn.  He’s still not eating like he should and he’s lost 10 pounds of the weight we worked so hard to put back on.  Not only is the sky outside grey, his mood and therefore mine is a dull shade of grey or just plain blah. 

When we went to his appointment on Monday, we impressed upon the Nurse Practitioner his lack of energy and desire to do anything.  It was time to push for more tests to get to the bottom of what was keeping him from progressing.  Was our darkness caused by the mental disappointment of being past Day 100 and not being “better” or was something really wrong?  We both needed to know.  I know for me, being in the depths of despair for about a year I was reaching my limits.

We were both worried yet relieved to hear that the tests showed an infection and that they wanted to see him back at 7 West.  It confirmed that something was really wrong.  That meant a quick trip to the store to check on things and make Wednesday’s lunch special, followed by making arrangements for the dog and throwing a few things in the over-night bag for a one-way trip to Ann Arbor.  Being in any ER is a real stressor, but maybe more so in a large city.  Everyone there is stressed out and seems to think their problem trumps everyone else’s.  I just wanted to get out of there before we ended up with COVID with people coughing and sneezing all over the place.  We managed a room in a little over an hour and then were cared for in a small cubicle.   Transport upstairs to his room took a little over 6 hours which we hear is really good.  Good thing I packed snacks because they weren’t serving supper by the time we reached his room at just before 10 p.m.

There is a certain amount of comfort seeing the same staff again and knowing that the 7th floor comes with privileges that aren’t allowed in most areas of the hospital.   As much as I am able to observe and report while keeping my vigil, I can’t imagine being forced to leave at the end of the night.  Not only can I see changes and things that cause me concern, I am here to catch him when he is unable to communicate all that is going on with him.  Last night he was very spacy and avoided a near fall.  I know that if I had not been in the room to get him back to bed he would have certainly fallen on his way back to bed and who knows how long it would have been until they found him.  Not at all a dig on the staff or hospital but just the way it is.  They can’t be in all places at all times.

It was somewhat reassuring to hear them all telling him what a good job we had done if this was his first trip back since his transplant.  Knowing that a return visit or two is almost expected helps make me feel better.  Hearing that he had an infection in his lumen on his port left me feeling even more defeated than I had been.  Knowing that I had likely done something less than perfect that was causing him to be sick was very difficult.   They have been good at trying to reassure me that these things happen under the most perfect of situations. 

We’re here to get to the bottom of things.  I’m glad we got back here before the infection(s) got to a place that they were at feverish levels and caused irreparable damage.  Still scared to know that there are several things working against him; one of them being something that could cause long-term kidney damage if they don’t get it turned around.  We have a great team of doctors and nurses looking into things.  I love how the doctor on rounds listened to Scott, then turned to me and said, and how is he really doing?  That’s perceptive. I don’t know if Scott’s that foggy or will always be the eternal optimist that doesn’t want to complain. 

Don’t you wish more people were like that?  As I sit in the hospital dealing with all the uncertainties, I make the mistake of looking at Facebook.  As much as it can be fun, entertaining, and full of great photographic moments, you have to shake your head at what some people share.  I’m still waiting for some of those emoji’s they talked about adding; something to the effect of WTH and you’ve got to be kidding me.  So sorry to hear of your hang nail or bad hair day and the likes. Maybe if people only knew how difficult life could be they wouldn’t be so quick to put things out there that most of us see as very minor disruptions or inconveniences in comparison.  That being said, I’m just as guilty. I’ve looked at blogs written by some of my readers from other countries and I feel that even what we are going through pales in comparison to the fears that so many people face. Wondering whether they will live through the real battles going on around them and worries about where their next meal will come from. How they will manage to raise their children in horrible conditions.  We all have our own version of hell to wade through.  Being here and seeing all the children and parents makes me realize that someone always has it worse than I do. Having the whole “flock” of people supporting us is sure nice; I know that not everyone has that and we are very thankful for all your support.   You know I’ll keep you posted as we learn what they find.    

Happy New Year!  Well – at least we can agree to the New Year part.  Like it or not, it’s here. The happy remains to be seen.  I’m really hoping that 2023 means that the worm has turned.  I’ve been asking myself; do I feel like the world going to hell in a hand basket just because I’m getting old or are things really going downhill?  Politics, social media, COVID, the economy, the whole work from home situation and the “younger generation”.  Michigan was recently in a state of emergency, schools closing early, holiday events all postponed all due to a threat of a impending winter storm.  Like it has never snowed in Michigan before.  As I expected, predictions of over 18 inches of snow turned into only about six inches but winds did produce some decent drifts leading to a few hours of less-than-ideal driving conditions.  It wasn’t long that crews had our roads cleared and life was basically uninterrupted.  Not like Scott needs any more reasons to fear going in public, threats of a triple-demic also filled the news; you know – COVID, the flu and RSV. 

I tended to believe that things were really worse than ever until I heard the following.  In his continued search for interesting information on YouTube, Scott recently found this reading by Paul Harvey that was written in 1965 entitled “If I Were the Devil” – if you are curious, you can view it at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGrWvrGDOXg.  This isn’t meant as a religious ploy of any type but more as confirmation that things really aren’t much different; the only change is in my perspective based on 58 years of experience.  It’s likely that since the beginning of time, the adult generation has always felt like the world was becoming a place of evil and craziness while the younger generation, thought their elders were just old-fashioned and out of touch.  Now the tables have turned and I am part of the geezer generation. 

My negative perspective is very likely magnified as a result of the last year.  The year my fairy tale life came to a screeching halt by a visit from the dreaded “C” word.  In hind sight, we were lulled into acceptance with the promise that if Scott could weather the stem cell transplant and the 100 days that followed; we could return to a life of normalcy.  A fantasy I clung to until Day 100 came and went and he continued to struggle to recover.  Now we’re told that while all the literature speaks of the critical nature of the first 100 days post-transplant, the actual recovery time is more often an entire year.  Something I’m struggling to accept.

Living with a cancer survivor is exhausting on many levels.  It’s spending all your time with someone who is mentally, physically and emotionally unavailable while you find yourself in over-drive and suffering from mental over-load.  New medical terminology and managing pills and appointments. Laundry and dirty dishes continue to accumulate, the demands of owning a business remain and life goes on around you.  Household finances don’t take a break either while you wait for AFLAC to send you that advertised yet seemingly unattainable claim checks to get you through the worst times of your life.  I don’t think I’ve ever been so frustrated in my life.  The claims are valid, and I continue to provide proof after proof and yet we still are waiting for thousands of dollars from them.  It is certainly the cause of a lot of stress and frustration right now.  It’s so tempting to just throw my hands up in the air and give up but I don’t know that any one should ever just walk away from that kind of money.  I’m about ready to call Sam Bernstein or better yet Geoffrey Fieger.  I think they need a Class Action Suit filed against them to make them understand that the undue stress and anxiety they cause their customers is nothing short of cruel and unethical.  Not like life isn’t already hard enough that you need to make it impossible for people to get what benefits they have bought and paid for.  I probably won’t go through with my threats of legal action but it at least warrants some investigation. 

After “passing” on many holiday parties, we finally managed a Christmas get together with my side of the family on December 26^th.  Christmas with our kids is scheduled for January 7^th and then a get together with Scott’s siblings and children on January 13^th.  Hopefully everyone is healthy and we will be able to take part in both those events.  We ended the year with a visit from friends in the afternoon followed by a relaxing evening with Scott’s daughter and her husband.  Scott made it until 11 p.m. so that was pretty impressive.

Trips to University of Michigan are dwindling to every other week and now that 2023 is here we can start thinking about a trip to Florida in March.  After all, we are both retired now!  I’m looking forward to a day when I can actually feel like I am retired.  So many other duties have taken the place of my job that I’m already one of those people that don’t have a clue as to how I did a job and everything else all at the same time. 

I have never bothered with New Year’s Resolutions and this year is no different.  Magazine displays have promised us quick-fix diets and fitness plans as long as I can remember. Still, we are a nation that continues to grow in number and girth.  Most would never believe that I was a twig as an adolescent.  With more on my plate than I can digest, pretending for a few days in January that this year will be the year that I slim down, isn’t even on the radar. My goals will continue to be less about me and more about providing my staff the tools and equipment to operate in my absence.  That in turn will free me up to spend time with family and friends; which is my goal for my retirement and 2023.    

Our social calendar will likely remain a little sparse in 2023. More than anything I’m hoping to see that little by little the Scott I used to know and love returns to me.  I’m looking forward to uncovering ways to take advantage of my status of “retired”.  Organizing meet ups at the beach with the girls – (we are still girls at 60ish aren’t we?) or afternoons with my grand-daughter.  I took advantage of my status yesterday afternoon – a friend called and we did an impromptu meet-up at the casino.  I donated a little more to the Potawatomi nation than I planned but it was a good time.  A good start for what I hope is a year of more time with friends and family and less time at hospitals and doctor appointments. 

I haven’t written much on Scott’s medical progress lately.  It’s pretty much a very slow climb up a very long and winding road.  The 100-day road to recovery.  We have “illegally” moved home.   After almost three months of transient living – the first 40 days at the hospital, followed by a couple Airbnb’s and our friend’s cottage, it’s good to be home.  Or is it?  For me, it’s back to the grind.  For Scott; not so much. 

It’s probably a good thing to have given up the lake house before this last dumping of a foot or more of snow.  Actually, here I think we only have 4-5 inches but my friends to the North report as much as 20 inches and its only mid-November.   You might know, weather in Michigan is very unpredictable.  My former golf partner and I have golfed as late as Thanksgiving weekend before.  I doubt anyone will be doing that this year. I basically gave up golfing when I moved here but I know she was disappointed to report that she put her clubs away today. 

We returned home so that he could feel more comfortable recovering in his own Lazy boy recliner and watch television on our 65-inch television.  He’s binge-watching Storage Wars, Jade Fever with Claudia and Robin Bunce and their buddy scrappy Larry.  Mountain Men, featuring characters such as Tom Oar who makes his living trapping and Eustace Conway who is trying to make his way in the lumber business.  Shows that feel like a get-away from life in Michigan. 

Me – I’m back working at the store as I have an employee off for what I’ll call medical reasons.  Since Scott technically wasn’t to be left alone for more than four hours until the end of the 100-day period, I have tried to keep my shifts short.  When I’m not there, I’m doing bookwork, working on catering orders, calling repairmen and doing battle with AFLAC.  Still trying to get claims paid from our trip to Mayo Clinic in March.   

A few days after being home, I had some errands to run.  Sure enough, like a dog who slipped his collar, I hear that he was spotted driving to town in his 1985 Pickup.  He was quickly reminded of the revocation of his driving privileges and reprimanded.   He’s not supposed to drive until the 100 days is up. 

He bought another Jeep with a snowplow off Facebook market place that was supposed to be a parts Jeep. However, after watching about 100 YouTube videos on how to repair everything including the broken frame, he decided that it would be fun to have both Jeeps so we could leave one at the cabin in Canada.    He’s spending a lot of time in the pole barn or “shop”.  Not only working on the Jeep, he’s decided to make wood working his new career.  We have plans to make a few items to give as gifts and possibly sell at the store.  Our first project turned out to be a little more challenging than the videos made it out to be.  He’s leaving the detail work for me and that may not be the greatest idea.  The wood for our proto-type was hard so it made precision a challenge.  We will see if I can do a better job on the next one.  Unfortunately, after he does all the cutting and staining, if I mess up the detailing then the whole thing is trash.   

His appetite has improved but not returned to full on eating.  I’m doing my best to keep him eating something every couple hours and drinking lots of fluids.  What was really shocking was his ability to completely eliminate all opioids within a short period of time.   He’s down to about 5-6 drugs, twice a day.  The magnesium IV is now every-other day.  In preparing documentation for AFLAC, I received a copy of his 44-page hospital stay.  Any guesses on just the stay; not including all the visits leading up to and since the transplant?  I wasn’t too far off on my guess of $1m; the cost was shown at just over $890k.  The n-plate shot that he has gotten almost every week since leaving the hospital is being billed at $23k.   Plain craziness. Tomorrow is his first bone marrow biopsy since the transplant. They hope to be able to see a marked reduction in the scarring in his bones.

This weekends snow event was really disappointing.  Not only did it kill business at the store for a couple days now, it totally ruined my long-awaited plans.  As the men from our friend group planned to gather for cards and sharing of their big buck sightings of the past few days, the women folk were having a party of their own.  Our party planner had been working on her event for weeks and was looking forward to hosting the sisterhood for a much-needed girl’s night out.  Not only have Scott and I been going through our challenges, we’ve had a few of the friends group lose parents in the last couple months.  I wasn’t the only one that needed a night out.

After months of being lectured about taking care of myself and doing something I enjoyed, tonight was finally going to be just that.  As the snow up there started to add up to something treacherous, the only option was to cancel the festivities.  I managed to kill the evening by watching a movie, playing games on my phone and eating everything in sight; trying to simulate the feeding frensy that would have been the party. 

Eventually, we retired to bed where Scott read a couple pages and called it a night.  I finally finished the worst book I have read in a long time and started a new one.  I don’t know why I can’t start a book and decide – nope not going to waste my time.  Once I pick it up, I’m committed to seeing it through.  While by a noted author, the main character of the book was a very confused young lady living a pretty miserable existence.    It should have made me feel pretty good about my life but it was actually depressing and I’m glad to be done with it.    

Still not tired, I started another book. This one appears to be a refreshing change.  Something I can relate to in just the first few pages.  Another gift from a well-meaning friend for passing time during this recovery phase.  This book focuses on a newly divorced woman in her 50’s who quits her job and moves to Saugatuck Michigan to renovate her family cabin into a bed and breakfast.  Certainly, a fantasy I can relate and escape to.

Being home creates its own challenges and growing pains. I joked with Scott today that we need to check with the doctor and see if he’s cleared to empty the dishwasher yet.    As I return to work as usual, other than not having a good paying job, I’m back to attempting to work, cook, clean and manage the finances on top of the duties of caretaker.   All while trying not to get caught up in all the thoughts in my head; knowing that its not business as usual yet.  So much of our life is still not functioning and for him, knowing that it never will be the same.

Watching the farm operate from a distance and not being part of it.  Not being able to take the cold weather like he used to.  Having to take rest breaks throughout the day.  Me, I miss our playfulness; kisses and his smiles.  We continue to limit our visitors and enforce strict hand washing and social distancing rules. We have self-imposed no kissing to make sure we aren’t passing cold germs back and forth since he has no immunity.  He’s still coughing and sneezing regularly. They say it could be this way for a while yet. Our physical relationship has been on the back burner until his counts are where they need to be.  Most days I feel more like Nurse Ratched than a wife.

Nearing my favorite holiday; Thanksgiving, I know that while I have so much to be thankful for, I find myself experiencing a sense of grief; once again missing what life was like before cancer.  As I battle another night of insomnia, at least he is finally sleeping and we are safe and sound at home together.   I guess I will read for a while. I can almost bet that when I find myself ready to nod off, that the dog will need to go out.  Gee it’s great to be home.       

Nothing beats Michigan in the fall. Crops are being harvested, the trees are beautiful, the weather is perfect and the absence of the August heat makes me feel like baking. Something with pumpkin or apples of course. Apple dumplings used to be my specialty until I decided I didn’t have time for them or need the calories. My favorite fall treat is apple sauce donuts. Although Michigan is full of very cool cider mills, we don’t have one near us so I have to settle with what Family Fare or Meijer have to offer.

September is when the majority of our family has birthdays so it’s an expensive month. My mom, Scott, my son, my daughter, my step-son and now only grandchild are all September babies. With both my children I felt like I went into the hospital in the summer and came home in the fall. Seasons can change in a day here; and more often than not – change back again after a few days.

While September means birthdays, October means Cider Making Day at my parents. A day almost better than Christmas.  Great fun, food and conversation.  After missing the wedding and so many other things over the past few months, it was great that Scott was feeling well enough to go with me a couple weekends ago.  This year was super warm; making it a little scarier with all the bees being very active.  Growing up picking apples on my dad’s little orchard I was always getting stung in the hands. A tug of war with a downed apple that I was sure to lose. The more I got stung the worst the reaction.

It was also the first year that my grand-daughter was able to participate.  Last year she joined us but was just a wee one all wrapped up in her snuggly blankets.  This year she came ready to work.  Or at least get herself all wet.  My son was busy trying to keep her from climbing into the apple washing bucket; the girl loves the water. She’s going to be good help one of these days.

I’m not sure where my dad got the original plan or idea for the mill but back then it certainly wasn’t from pinterest or a youtube video. Like everything he has, it’s pretty much all home made. Back in the early days, the press sat outside and apples were actually pressed with a big wheel that was hand cranked to squeeze the chopped apples. I think originally pails of apples were dumped into the home-made grinder from a ladder. Now it has an elevator and a hopper that we load. A motor powers the crushing so we can get more juice than we could with man power. Today it resides in what else but “The Cider Shed”.  A single garage style building with a big apple painted on the roll-up door that I first painted in high school; a mere forty some years ago. The trap door in the floor leading to the storage of “the good stuff”.  I haven’t been down there in years but it used to house the hard cider and barrels of home-made wine. 

Everyone mans a post; apple washing/rinsing and keeping the hopper full. Dad manages the mechanical part of the process. After pressing, the apple mash requires some brute force to get it out of the pressing bucket and into the trailer. It takes a couple more people to manage the straining and jugging of the fresh cider. Tasting is everyone’s job.  

It wouldn’t be a family get together without great food. Dad’s always tweeking the equipment and the we’ve made some changes to the after-pressing meal.  Last year we had a soup bar and this year a taco bar.  It’s always near my sister’s birthday so it includes a yummy desert as well. If you go hungry there, it’s clearly your own fault.  

One year, it almost didn’t happen.  Dad ended up in the hospital with appendicitis.  Apples were picked and he had already promised cider to the local museum.  They were needing it to make apple butter for a fund raiser.  In a panic, he dictated notes to my mom from the hospital bed.  Much to his surprise, between us we had all paid enough attention that we managed to pull it off.  Crisis averted. 

There’s something really special about getting together as a family and making a product.  Especially this year when cider at the grocery store was running about $6.99/gallon and it tastes terrible after you’ve been raised on the good stuff.  Scott could watch and help take pictures but he couldn’t drink the cider because it’s not pasturized. It’s never sold, only given to those that help make it or donate apples for the pressing.

Some of my favorite photos come from this day. Typically I enjoy taking pictures and seeing everyone congregate and catch-up with one another.  This year I over-saw the mixing process; making sure each batch has a mixture of apples to insure the most flavor, some varieties are sweeter, some juicier and the right mix has to include a few tart apples too. Scott took over my photo detail. Along with the fun comes a little sadness. Remembering the people that have enjoyed our event with us in the past. My uncle just passed away this fall. I have memories of him helping back when the press was still at my grandparent’s place as well as coming out to watch over the years. My parents’ neighbor Dave was always very enthusiastic about being part of the process; and he passed away a few years ago after becoming a regular helper. Now we add new spouses and the next generation of apple pickers to the mix.  Many hands make light work.    

It’s hard to believe that it’s November already.   Scott is post-transplant day 80.  After weeks of bonus high temperatures, today feels like fall is here.  The wind has picked up and it’s spitting rain.  I had some apples left over from cider making and an about to expire (well – you got me – past date cake mix from the store shelf) and I threw together a dump cake for a snack when the kids come over later today.  If it doesn’t turn out, at least the house will smell good.  Today is a homecoming of sorts.  Scott’s daughter is bringing our dog Zeus back home. 

It’s been hard not seeing the kids like we are used to and equally hard to not have our dog with us.  After all, he’s the only child we have together. He’s been in excellent care; to the extent that we’re a little worried that he won’t want to stay home with us. Being that we got him as a rescue dog, I’ve been imaging what he’s thinking.  I’m sure he’s like “Wow, I can’t believe this – I thought those people really liked me.  I only peed on the floor a couple times, and I never chewed my toys or ate shoes or anything………well at least they didn’t leave me along side of the road like those other people. I’ve stayed at this other place before and the lady here practically smothers me with hugs and kisses. They complain about my gassy stomach but they give me lots of treats and there’s places to explore. The other dog here is pretty chill and we pretty much just ignore each other. The cat likes to snuggle with me so I let her.”

Then there’s when they drive in the driveway and he realizes he’s back.  “Oh my God, they aren’t dead!  I’m back!  What the heck??” And maybe even “Man, dad looks way different, but he sounds the same.  I wonder if something happened to him and that’s why I had to go away?”  I think he probably knows, it seems that dogs are very receptive when their humans are sick. 

We will have to adjust to having him around again. Remembering to find him a sitter on check-up days and getting up during the night to let him out. Remembering the joys of stinky dog breath and his silent and deadly toots. Our chicken, Lucky, will have her buddy back. The resident woodchuck that has been alluding all the traps will have to be a little more careful; the pooch is back on yard patrol.