This is a picture of Sharon and me in 2006 on a tour of the Old Hundred Mine (http://www.minetour.com/). We lucked out in that we were the only people on this tour so we were able to interact a lot with the tour guide, who had been a miner there in the 1960s. He operated one of the mining drills for us – the volume was louder than a jet engine but softer than the ‘fun’ cranial MRIs that Sharon must endure.
It's now week 4 of the radiation and chemo. We had one minor scare recently. On Saturday, we went to a pre-Auburn vs. Southern Miss tailgate. It was very hot and humid. Sharon got weary quickly so we left after about 15 minutes. I was concerned about her ability to walk back to the car and asked her if she’d like me to ask a nearby cop to give us a ride. Given her stubborn streak, I was not surprised that she said no. Then a young guy selling bottled water asked us why we were walking away from the game. I told him Sharon wasn’t feeling good, and he immediately insisted that she take one of his ice-cold bottles. That small gesture meant a lot. One aspect of Sharon’s illness is that we appreciate little poignant moments like that one much more than we used to. Of course, we would gladly return to our previous oblivious state if we could! As an aside, now that I am no longer oblivious, I guess I no longer have the option of becoming an academic administrator ; )
Other than the tailgate incident, Sharon has been doing pretty well. Her blood levels remain in the normal range, and we are thrilled about that. Sharon has been very chatty, which is a sign that she feels good. In Dave-speak, ‘very chatty’ means ‘too chatty.’ When we first received her diagnosis in July, we decided that we would cram 30 or 40 years of living into whatever number of years we will have. I had to slightly amend that plan this week and tell her that it does not apply to talking. Indeed, there have been moments where I yearned for the relative quiet of that mining drill.
It's now week 4 of the radiation and chemo. We had one minor scare recently. On Saturday, we went to a pre-Auburn vs. Southern Miss tailgate. It was very hot and humid. Sharon got weary quickly so we left after about 15 minutes. I was concerned about her ability to walk back to the car and asked her if she’d like me to ask a nearby cop to give us a ride. Given her stubborn streak, I was not surprised that she said no. Then a young guy selling bottled water asked us why we were walking away from the game. I told him Sharon wasn’t feeling good, and he immediately insisted that she take one of his ice-cold bottles. That small gesture meant a lot. One aspect of Sharon’s illness is that we appreciate little poignant moments like that one much more than we used to. Of course, we would gladly return to our previous oblivious state if we could! As an aside, now that I am no longer oblivious, I guess I no longer have the option of becoming an academic administrator ; )
Other than the tailgate incident, Sharon has been doing pretty well. Her blood levels remain in the normal range, and we are thrilled about that. Sharon has been very chatty, which is a sign that she feels good. In Dave-speak, ‘very chatty’ means ‘too chatty.’ When we first received her diagnosis in July, we decided that we would cram 30 or 40 years of living into whatever number of years we will have. I had to slightly amend that plan this week and tell her that it does not apply to talking. Indeed, there have been moments where I yearned for the relative quiet of that mining drill.
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1 comment:
Wow. This is such a good look that you may want to consider adopting a hard hat in lieu of hair (rain slicker optional).
It is hard being so far away; I want to SEE you! Let's talk this weekend about dates for me to come to AL. Love you.
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