Flood, Day 4 turned into a stomach-churning day.
On Day 1 (Thursday), we woke up to discover that 2 of the rooms on our lower level had had water bubbled up during the night. All of the edges of the wood were wet. We put fans in those rooms, and by the end of the day (Thursday), they were dry. We spent the day doing other things -- including helping all the neighbors with sopping carpet in their basements. We woke on Day 2 to the realization that, while the floors may have been dry on top, they were still wet underneath, because they had buckled and become wavy. So we put Ben and his friend Sawyer on ripping them up (teens do love destruction). They got the guest bedroom mostly done. Yesterday, Day 3, it didn't rain much. Not much got done on the house, either, in part because it was Yom Kippur, the highest of the Jewish High Holidays. Also, because there were other chores. After morning services Ben helped his Dad move the big new mill Bill got earlier in the week down into the basement (all 800 pounds of it). Today is Day 4. There are lots of people in worse shape than us. Lots of roads out. Our friends in the mountains getting drops w/ MREs (Meals Ready to Eat like soldiers). 1200 people getting helicoptered out of their homes. Lots and lots and lots of damaged basements -- some with water, and some, like the Conservative Synagogue in town, with sewage. UGH.
We gave Ben the day off, but Bill and I deconstructed all the equipment in the gym room, the 2nd basement room with a wavy floor. Our gym equipment is heavy and cumbersome (and that's taking the 220 pound weight stack apart 30 pounds at a time). And then there's ripping out the floor, which doesn't take quite as much muscle (and still isn't done), but is still an athletic activity.
About 1/2 way through the afternoon, I burst into tears. If this flood -- or any damage -- had happened three months from now, I wouldn't have been able to help. And, it isn't clear if it happened a year from now how much help I will be able to be. The whole concept of "permanent loss of function" hit. I may not be the strongest bear, and in Boulder, I'm certainly not the most fit, or most athletic 50-something year old. But I'm in pretty good shape. And I can help move heavy, cumbersome furniture. And lift heavy stuff over my head.
What's so hard about what's going to happen in 9 weeks, is that, even though I have cancer , I feel fine. What all this "treatment" is going to do is render me permanently not fine. I will have some level (10%, 20%, maybe 30%) of permanent loss of function. Why? To avoid the 50% chance of recurrence of the cancer that would, if it happened, most likely result in amputation (100% loss of function). But the ugly reality is that accepting "treatment" means accepting permanent damage now and forever (that's what permanent means) rather than risk potential future greater damage. Given that right now, even though I have cancer I have complete function, that's a really bitter pill to swallow.
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