Quiet Christmas. . .

Christmas eve a.m. . . .

Quiet Christmas morning, Bob's still sleeping, dogs have been fed, coffee made . . . we'll have a small gathering of family here later on Christmas day, for dinner, but should be a mellow day up until then . . . Bob has been home with me for a full week now, a week that's been mostly uneventful, though punctuated periodically with a flurry of activity: a home health nurse checking in three times a week, PT at least once or twice, and other services as needed (social worker, lymphedema specialist, etc.).

In between those visits, our days have been peppered with visits from friends, family, neighbors, co-workers—pretty sure we now have enough wine, Christmas cookies and Trader Joe's goodies to last till spring, or at least till next week . . . cards of well-wishes and generous gifts fill the mailbox, e-mails adorn the in-box, unexpected packages show up on the doorstep, and not one, but two sets of carolers last night (one group presented us with a candle that had been lit by the light of the Christmas candle burning in Bethlehem—as in the Bethlehem! How cool is that?!) . . . we are in awe, unspeakable awe, warmed and blessed through and through with the gentle waves of generosity, love, support washing over us, showering us endlessly. But, truth be told, I'd give it all back, a thousandfold, over and over again, if I had a choice . . .

Bob's family was here for much of the week; having Nancy from Saturday till Wednesday was a wonderful early Christmas gift. A good five days of quality family time, great meals, just being. . . we even Skyped with Brian and the girls back in Montana one night . . . I swear I didn't lift a finger around the joint till Wednesday, when they finally headed out, first, to drop Nance off at the airport, then home for a few days. . . Penny and Jim will be back today, Christmas day, to spend at least the day with us, maybe a few more, as Bob's birthday is on Monday . . . I thought the house would be almost too lonely with their absence, but as I've mentioned, it's been far from it; haven't really had much quiet time alone yet. I suspect after the holidays, it'll calm down some . . .

Still trying to get used to this in-between world, where all the rules have changed, nothing makes sense, the focus of everything we now do takes on a whole new meaning . . . sometimes seems meaningless, like we're going through the motions just to be doing something, until I realize I'm allowing The Lump's pronouncement infiltrate my brain and affect my actions. . . I have to consciously, forcefully, push him and his words out of my head, remind myself that our mission, our purpose now is to pick up where the U so miserably failed Bob, which is addressing and tending to his quality of life . . .

At home, for the most part, Bob is getting good, restful sleep, still has a great appetite and is so grateful to be home, with his pups (ummmm, lemme clarify that with a usually. When Rocco succumbs to the "brain worm syndrome," which sends him into a jacked-up doggie ADHD frenzy—happens maybe once or twice a day—then Bob declares, "That's it! I'm going back to the hospital, where a guy can get some peace and quiet!"), with friends and family coming by for visits. Even took a trip down to his office yesterday, to fire up the ol' computer that hasn't been touched in at least four months. . . we gotta work on getting back upstairs, though, as that proved to be a challenge (more on that later . . . )

I've been cooking up a storm—well, okay, not quite a storm yet, as I didn't have to do anything until after P & J left, 'til we ate our way through the week's leftovers. Thursday night, I finally made dinner—Thai Chicken Cabbage soup. . . sofaking good, a spicy, flavorful soup with chicken, cabbage, jalapeños, carrots, cilantro. . . I've been juicing to my heart's content, too, and Bob's been my (mostly) easy-going Official Taster. A sweeter breakfast juice almost every day (spinach or other greens, green apple, a few other fruits), but last night, I tried a V8-ish veggie juice—tomatoes, celery, cucumber, cabbage, dash of lemon. I liked it, our friend Paulie liked it (we're both juicing geeks), but Bob gave it a big fat thumbs-down. . . Paulie and I both tried to convince Bob that sometimes juicing isn't about savoring the flavors, it's about choking down a glassful of goodness, embracing the knowledge that though it may not taste great, it's soooo good for the bod . . . he ain't buyin' it. . .

Our neighbor across the street got our snowblower up and running, even better than it's run, ever. So between that, and the two parties that have been lined up to plow our driveway this winter, we're gonna have the cleanest driveway in the tri-county area. . . he's an amazing man, our neighbor 'cross th' way . .. 75 years young, runs 5+ miles a night (yes, at night), in rain, snow, wind or hail . . . he keeps bringing over various supplements for us to try, juicing books, health and wellness videos, you name it . . . has had his own health issues over the years, and is totally convinced his organic, natural diet saved his life. He's a huge proponent of the "food as medicine" philosophy and in his rough but respectful, blue-collar way, wants to share, to help. . . love this dude. . . he and I could talk juicing recipes all day . . .

Christmas day . . .

Another quiet morning, walked the dogs, started cleaning the house when Penny and Jim arrived, then my mom shortly thereafter. . . I still had to get both Bob and myself showered, dressed and presentable, get Bob's dressing changed and meds dispensed, the house picked up before the holiday "officially" began, though today doesn't feel much different than any other day. . .

Nice, quiet day with family, good food, good company. . . until Bob ventured downstairs for the first time in over 4 months . . . sat at his computer for a good hour or so, I'm sure it felt so good, to be in "his" place again, looking out the windows to the wintry landscape of our backyard, snow so deep even the animals have resisted tracking across the snowy landscape. . . fired up his computer for the first time in many months, gonna take a few days to update all the services—virus scan, etc.—that had expired while he was gone . . .

Periodically, I'd check on him to see if he was ready to come back upstairs. "Not yet," he'd tell me . . . eventually, instead of going down to bother him, I sent a text, "Doing okay?" got one back almost immediately, "No. Just took my first fall . . ." I don't think my feet touched the floor as I flew down the stairs and found Bob sitting on the bottom step. He said he was trying to make his way back upstairs when he missed his footing, fell and hit his head on the concrete floor. He said he was okay, but I about hit the roof when he told me he was trying to make it upstairs by himself. We got him upstairs and into bed, as the trip up was more tiring than the trip down, and he felt he needed to rest for a while. Said the fall scared him more than it hurt, but I'll definitely sleep with one eye and both ears open tonight . . .

As I type these words, I fully realize with heavy heart and acute awareness, that they're just my perspective, my take on things . . . which are dramatically different from what Bob's feeling about all this, and compared to that, my take really doesn't mean a whole lot.