PAINT THE SHED

John, who is essentially a Minnesota boy though he lived all those years in California, has caught the winterizing bug. Batten down the hatches! Yesterday morning he drove the Mule down the hill to the shed which had suffered wind damage sometime this summer, and he stood on the Mule’s back (is it called a "bed"?) and glued and pounded until he could declare the roof waterproof again. We’re going to paint the whole thing green, he told me, or maybe we can camouflage it if I want to take the time. Green’s fine. The shed’s a Gerry rigged little hut down the hill, made of left-overs, the perfect example of "tacky." Some plastic, some wood, some tar paper, some old roofing (not necessarily on the roof), a dirt floor, a shelf inside where the mama-cat, Laila, sleeps on those nights we are gone and she can’t get into the garage.

"As soon as it rains," he tells me, "I’m getting my chain saw out, and we’re going to cut up that fallen madrone for firewood. We’ll haul it in the back of the Mule." I’m sure we will. And this weekend Jeff is driving up from California to help put up a new tent-like shelter at the side of the garage. Wind ripped the old one, and we keep all our "shop" equipment out there—saws, lumber, wheelbarrow—you get the picture.

What to do when you have cancer: Engage in tasks to support life. Prepare for the next season. Finally convert the un-used kitchen fireplace into a usable gas powered fireplace that can heat that part of the house with a flick of a switch. This is the task for today. We’ve been talking about doing this since we bought the house. A heating man is coming out later this morning to give an installation estimate. John’s already picked out the stove insert we want.

Yesterday we saw Dr. Hehn in Medford, and John received his infusion through the omya reservoir in his head. Always a time for breathing deeply and hoping for the best. All went well. Dr. Hehn laughed, telling us the story of having called Dr. Neuwelt on his cell phone to ask him about the preparation for the new drug he’d been told to use, only to discover that the great doctor was answering from somewhere in Europe! "What TIME was it there, I wonder?" said young Dr. Hehn.

New drugs for this new complication—the tumor in John’s spine. "It’s complicated," says Dr. Neuwelt. One of the new drugs devastates blood platelets. John brushes against a door, or knocks his hand against the side of the shed wall, or is smacked by a branch, and blood wells up out of torn skin made thin by the steroids he has to take. The blood won’t quell, won’t clot, at least not for a long time. Balancing the drugs against the needs of the body is complicated. Only if the blood rights itself can the next treatment go forward. At OHSU the team would like the next treatment to be a few days earlier rather than a week later than scheduled. Nurse Cindy told us their decision would ride on the results of Wednesday’s labs. Well, the platelets remain too low (this is according to Dr. Hehn—the OHSU team hasn’t yet called with their decision).

You can choose your response to situations like this, I have discovered. You can dissolve in the uncertainty and give way to fear. Or you can paint the shed.

While John is dealing with the fellow from the heating and plumbing company this morning, I plan to drive in town to Sears. He needs new Lee Jeans. And while I’m there, he’d like me to pick up a hedge trimmer which we need not only now, but also next summer. And my sewing machine is broken – it’s forty years old, so that’s to be expected. Darlene said her Sears machine works great – so I’ll take a look at sewing machines.

Also – I’ll bet they have green paint.