In nearly 36 years of marriage I have relied on my
even-keeled husband on many occasions.
He remains calm under almost any circumstance (even when faced with
disease, as we have seen). While
scatterbrained Amy flits about trying to solve a problem - finding a lost item,
for example – Jeff’s logical brain goes to work towards a quick and painless
solution. I have Jeff’s Chemo Brain to
thank for my becoming the saner, more rational partner. Case in point:
I was paying bills at the dining room table when Jeff asked
me to submit an online rebate. He read the pertinent numbers off of a Home
Depot sales receipt and said that he had another rebate to submit but he couldn’t
find the receipt. I went back to paying
bills and figured he’d bring the other receipt when he got it out of his truck
or wherever he had left it.
Head bent to my task, I became aware that Jeff was walking
around and around and around the house.
Eventually he began to grumble, “Where could it be?” and “What did I do
with it?” and “Darn it!” I sensed he
needed help and asked what was missing.
“The receipt!” he growled.
“It was with another rebate form and a drill bit! I don’t know what I did with them.”
My did-you-look suggestions were answered with frustrated
responses, all “Yes” or “Yes, twice!” There
was nothing to do but leave the bills and join the search.
Tracing his likely steps for the day, including spots little
Rosie might have secreted away the papers and drill bit, were fruitless. We spent much too long in the effort – the garage,
the bedroom, the shop, the bathrooms, the kitchen, Rosie’s play kitchen, the
back porch, every surface in every room.
Nothing. We gave up and decided a
nice walk might help ease the loss and restore sanity.
One step out the front door and I noticed a white cylinder
of wind-wisped paper in the driveway. “What’s
that?” I asked.
Jeff marched across the driveway and caught the thing. “It’s the receipt!”
He stared at it as if the thing had, of its own volition,
got up from the kitchen table and slipped out the front door. And then truth and clarity arrived. “I left it on the roof of the car.”
Now, everyone, including Jeff, knows that the roof of the
car is not a very good place to perch things, even temporarily. So this, too, was out of character for
him. He remembered needing both hands to
extract Rosie from her car seat and, well…
I glanced up and down the street and saw another piece of
paper in front of our neighbor’s house.
I went to investigate. The rebate
form! Our calming walk became a Drill Bit Hunt. We retraced the path of the
car around the corner, down Mercer Avenue to Bridge Street. We walked awhile down Bridge Street and then
back home. We found two paint stirrers
which Jeff now remembered were among the missing items but no drill bit.
“The rebates will pay for the cost of the lost drill bit,”
Jeff rationalized.
I watched Jeff relax – finally. “I think we’ve had a role reversal,” I said,
feeling pleased that I did not allow his panic to take me along. We had a good laugh and that was that.
Jeff saw Dr. Porter last week and had good numbers,
including immunoglobulins, again! Dr.
Porter asked Jeff if he is able to work.
Jeff was surprised by the question and didn’t remember Dr. Porter asking
it since maybe the first year post-transplant.
When Jeff related this conversation to me I said, “Why didn’t he ask you
that back when they cut off your Social Security disability?” At that time he was not working as regularly
as he is able to work now.
Of course, we are glad
Jeff is working and, more importantly, that he is feeling very well. In quiet moments Dr. Porter’s question
rattles around in my head and disconcerts me.
Why, after four years of steady improvement, has he asked this
question? Can’t he tell from the four panels
of blood work that are done every two or three months that all is well? Nothing looks - at least to my untrained eye
– as if it is trending too high or too low.
Then I convince myself that it was a benign question and is not any kind
of omen. Geez! Maybe Jeff is the saner one of us after all.
