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1/ Seven weeks ago I was at my Dad’s house, in full on crisis mode after his AML diagnosis. He was incredibly frail, no immune system, unable to do almost anything. We cleaned out garage, papers organized, got his meds and treatment sorted, nursing care in place.
2/ every day was a barrage of infusions and transfusions and complications that were frightening and utterly impossible for my dad and stepmom to cope with. My brother and stepsisters rallied and—sometime against intense resistance—got them in a better place.
3/ Now Milo and I are back here. Didn’t know if this was a trip to say goodbye, tbh. But my dad’s numbers are back up, his color is good, he’s eating, already trying to lift too much. Don’t know how long this remission will last but every day is a gift.
4/ thanks to the docs, nurses, techs, PTs, exterminators, boat and donation collectors, garage door fixers, and everybody else who helped out. And my coworkers, who covered and managed everything so well.
6/ My dad would give me no end of grief for that typo...
