Today marks the one-year anniversary
of my father’s passing and the day began with my sisters, brother and I passing
thinking-of-you text messages. Nancy’s
message included thoughts about it being an “auspicious day” for Keith to head
to Afghanistan. I read her message just
before walking into my office. (Thanks for that, Nancy.) A quick
dash for the tissue box, a couple of hugs from my co-workers, and my workday
began.
My cell phone chirped several more
times – Judy, then Harry, then Tracy all texted short messages. We were thinking of Pop, of the day he died,
and the year’s events – Mother’s death six months after Pop’s, babies born,
life lived.
In the midst of my siblings’ text
messages came one short message from Jeff, “Mr. Frog is dead.” Oh!
Too bad! We’d enjoyed the
bullfrog’s 4 a.m. concerts from our tiny little pond. The smaller frog had already
disappeared. The frog, formerly known as
Three-O’Clock, had grown quite large this summer. We joked that he grew by the approximate size
of the smaller frog, “Maybe he ate it.”
My work was interrupted once again
when Keith called. He was not yet on an
airplane and it sounded like he had a loooong trip ahead of him – commercial
flight to Kazakhstan, then military flight to Afghanistan. He’d been awake since 7 a.m. yesterday. Poor guy.
No sooner had I returned to my desk
when Jeff called. He’d missed Keith’s
call because his cell phone was in the truck for the couple of hours he was
working. Jeff also reported on the means
by which the bullfrog died. Spying a
dead bird in the pond (this seems to be happening a little more frequently this
summer than most), he grabbed the pooper-scooper to retrieve the carcass. As he lifted the bird out of the water, the
frog came, too! Evidently, the frog
tried unsuccessfully to swallow the bird.
Jeff tried to yank the little wretch out of the frog’s mouth in the
hopes that the frog could be revived but it was too late. Both creatures succumbed from the trauma.
As I hung up the phone, I reminded
Jeff that we had Chicken Lessons with Emily when I got home from work. We are finally reciprocating for all the
dog-sitting Emily has done for us. We
would be taking care of her three chickens which lay three different colored
eggs. We’ll be paid in eggs.
Despite the heat and humidity, we
decided to walk the three blocks to Emily’s house. Emily took us out to the coop and pointed to
two of her birds and commented, “Hmm. Where
is the other one?” She opened the hutch
door and made the sad discovery. I took
baby Lincoln off her hands while she dealt with the remains. She is a stoic, pragmatic animal lover yet we
felt sorry for her loss. We discussed
methods of keeping the hutch cool during the heat wave, got our instructions
for feed and water and closing them in at night. We enjoyed a short visit before heading home.
On Friday, Jeff went to the Perelman
Center. Nurse Heather thought he looked
good.
“I know,” he said. “People can’t see what I’ve been through. It was more fun when I looked like I was
dying.”
Heather laughed. Jeff told her he was going to meet his donor
and that his donor makes him think about why bad things happen to good people. He related Nicole and Nicholas’s story. Heather cried. She asked if she could share their story with
her mother who doesn’t understand why babies get cancer.
Dr. Porter decided Jeff didn’t need
labs drawn. Then he changed his mind. I was relieved to check those liver function
numbers since they were improved a month ago but not back to where they had
been before GVHD. Although his numbers
are better now, Dr. Porter said Jeff would have to stay on the current dosage
of Cellcept for another six months before he would consider tapering.
Our little Rosie was baptized on
Sunday. A party at Kerry and Theresa’s
followed. It was lovely – and hot. Jeff and some of the young men played
horseshoes. Last summer Jeff could not
play quoits (a 21-foot throw) and this summer he can play horseshoes (40-foot
throws). The next day Jeff’s arms were a
little bit sore – that’s all.
We are thankful that Jeff is doing
well and we are praying for safe travels for Keith and all those serving our
country.
Back to the exciting part: One worker was lifted high into the tree on
the ball of a crane and then spent the day in the tree, coming down only for
lunch. There were loud trucks and loud men, enormous chainsaws, sawdust. I had warned Jeff that he wouldn’t be able to
keep Rosie at our house with all that noise!
Boy, was I wrong! Jeff and Rosie watched
from the back porch, in a lawn chair at the back of the garage, from the dining
room. They went for walks so they could
see it from vantage points all around the block. I should have guessed that Rosie, the daughter
of two engineers, would be right there with Jeff, enjoying the hub-bub. Jeff sent a picture of Rosie to me at work with the caption, "Watching the Tree Men. It's a nail-biter!"
