Sunday, April 23
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Monday, April 24
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Tuesday, April 25
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Wednesday, April 26
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Thursday, April 27
In the morning, Don and I went to a local lumber yard and got most
of the wood to build the raised planters. Although ordering was
quite quick, it seemed to take forever to get the lumber cut and
loaded into the car. I got to work quite late.
Don arrived at work to go to lunch with me. I noticed there was
a smudge of dirt on his nose. Thinking it was just mud from the
compost heap, I wetted a paper towel and wiped it off. Then I
noticed that there was dirt on his trousers, leaves in his hair,
and a scratch on one lense of his glasses. "What happened?" I
asked.
"I had an accident," he said. "I was riding down the sidewalk and
tried to avoid some pedestrians. I lost my balance and ended up
in a planter."
I took him to the optometrist where he had gotten the glasses and
they made arrangements to have the lense replaced. We also took
the opportunity to order another set of reading glasses. He doesn't
know where the ones he bought last November are. "I probably took
them off on the train and left them," he said.
I could tell he was in a state about the accident and I was frankly
rattled, too. I telephoned the office to say that I would not be
in the rest of the afternoon. I'll have to take a day without pay
next month as paychecks for this month have already been deposited.
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Friday, April 28
I wanted to get started on the raised planters now that the lumber
is ready. I got home from work early, eager to start work. When
I walked into the kitchen, I noticed some small brown lumps on the
floor. Thinking they might be nuts or perhaps balls of hardened
mud, I picked one up and sniffed it.
It was feces.
I called to Don and asked him if he knew how they had gotten there.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't make it to the bathroom on time. I thought
I'd cleaned it all up."
I could tell he was embarrassed and upset. I hugged him and told
him that it was all right. He cleaned the floor and I went out to
the garage and started assembling the beds.
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Saturday, April 29
We had a pleasant time in bed, the first in quite a while.
Afterwards, I asked him if I could talk to him about the shit
incident. He said okay.
"First of all," I said, "I want you to know that I'm not frightened of shit, or disgusted by
it, or digusted with you. I've been a happy butt-fucker for many years so I've gotten
over the usual taboos."
He thanked me for being so understanding.
"How often has this happened?" I asked.
"Once before."
"In your trousers?"
"Yes. It isn't diarrhea."
"No, it didn't look like it."
"It just gets started and I can't seem to stop it."
"It could be a drug side-effect," I said, "but I don't remember reading about it in any
of the literature. We should talk to Dr. Peterson about it."
"Okay. Thanks."
"The thing to worry about is sepsis."
"What's that?"
"Well, while it's in your body, shit is actually pretty clean. But once it's outside, it
quite a happy little playground for all sorts of bacteria. We should get an anti-bacterial
soap and use it in both bathrooms and the kitchen."
"Good idea."
"And I think it would be a good idea if you changed your underwear daily and took a bath
at least twice a week."
He agreed. I know enofrcing the last two of these is going to be difficult. Don's
personal hygene has been problematic since the hemorrhage.
I got the weekend neurology intern on the line who passed our concerns on to Dr.
Peterson. Within an hour, they called back to say that as long as bowel control
returned and as long as he wasn't experiencing lower back pain, we could safely
ignore the symptoms as isolated incidents.
Don was on the line when the intern
asked the question about lower back pain, which he said would indicate "tumor
involvement." After the call he was frightened. "He said it would indicate the
tumor had metastasized to my spinal column. That's what happened to XXX.
That's what will kill me."
I know he hasn't read the report suggesting the tumor cells are
circulating in his cerebral spinal fluid, and I know that the intern
did not mention spinal chord involvement (though that's what the
question implied). I try to calm Don down, and eventually he
relaxes.
We spend the rest of the afternoon building the raised beds. Don
is a great help moving the lumber and helping with the measurements.
His attention wanders from time to time, but once I set up a series
of nails to pound in, he goes at them with a vengence. By the end
of the day, both bed are done. We tip them upright and set them
in place near where the landscapers will install them.
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Raised Beds with Don
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