Yesterday afternoon, I had an IM conversation with my friend Dug, where I gave him some of the details of how things are and where they’re headed.
Then, at the end, I suggested: “Hey, how about a ride this afternoon? My neighbor, Sherry, says she’ll be happy to watch Susan so I can get out.”
Dug already had plans, but he moved them. I think he could tell I wasn’t really just asking for a ride.
We drove to AF canyon, parking at the turnout to Tibble Fork, then rode our singlespeed MTBs up the pavement to the Timpooneke trailhead, across the Ridge trail, then up and down Mud Springs. That joins up to Tibble, which we took all the way down, then pavement back to Dug’s car.
The trail is in pretty bad shape — motorcycles really tore it up during an unusually wet spring — but the ride was still better than any I can remember in a long time. Good to get out on my favorite trails with Dug.
The ride stood in contrast with the rest of the day. As we rode back toward home, I thought back to the morning, and couldn’t believe how long the day had seemed. Or how long the week had seemed, and it was only Wednesday.
It was great to do something normal, something that had nothing to do with cancer, for a couple hours.
By 9:00pm, Susan was sleeping, so I fired up the DVR to catch up with the Tour. My mind boggled as Contador screwed his own team over in what I could tell was a rookie move from the second that ill-conceived attack began.
Between his selfish race tactics, his attitude of vindication, that ridiculous “pistol” salute — really, it’s the pistol salute more than anything else — I am finding it very difficult to cheer for that guy.
Contador’s definitely the fastest guy at Astana — which is saying a lot — but he’s no team leader.
At 11:00pm, I was surprised by the sound of Susan’s voice, clearly calling for me. She was awake and completely lucid. No longer babbling and mumbling, she asked me to explain what’s been happening, and how long she had been “out.”
I caught her up with the details, and to both of our surprise she remembered a lot of it. For an hour or so we had a very serious conversation, where I explained my choices and how she’s doing. I can’t even explain how grateful I am that I got that chance, and that Susan was able to tell me that I was doing the right things.
We also talked about a number of things that won’t go into this blog.
Then I had the boys come in — the twins are still in Colorado with Grandma — and we all talked and joked around for an an hour. The feeling in the house — which had been hospital-quiet and hospital-sad the whole day — went through the roof.
Now, this morning, I’ve just given Susan something to basically knock her out — she was terrified because she was absolutely convinced I had moved her into an Ikea and trapped her there, so she couldn’t get out.
I would never have thought that — after 21 years — an additional two hours would feel like such a huge gift.