First of all, let’s set the record straight.

The ink was hardly dry on last night’s dispatch about our “last” mealtrain meal, when a car pulled up under the apple tree, a young person got out with two bags and brought them up onto the porch. This was our actual, last, last mealtrain meal and it was a joy. We don’t normally go into detail about these meals–they have been so varied and so wonderful, each in its own way, that to mention one and not another doesn’t seem right. So I will just say that, as I took the bags, I peeked in and said, “That looks delicious.”

“Yeah,” the delivery person said. “I’ll say. I wish I was invited.”

Then they actually paused a second to see if the invite might arrive.

Then they smiled so I would know they were only kidding.

Then they reluctantly turned away and went back to their sedan.

But slowly, in case, you know, I relented.

Then I locked the door, called the family and we feasted.

Mealtrain, done, with an exclamation point.

Today was an excellent day in many ways. No major breakthroughs. Mostly a day to rest and recuperate. If I were to do a little mind reading, I’d say the lack of all-day energy is the thing that has Tanja most worried right now. In the before times, the pace of her day, the way she moved through a project, buttoned it up and moved to the next, the sheer velocity with which she committed herself to whatever it was, was epic, so epic that it often felt like a rebuke to me, with my more contemplative approach to work.

There was a moment yesterday when I, sitting in my work chair, diligently conjuring the proper caption to put under a social post featuring a young person wearing a new t shirt, suddenly sensed that old, familiar energy surging through the house. Tanja on the move. And suddenly, in spite of my best intentions, I was annoyed, just like in the old days. And that annoyance was so fondly familiar that it made my heart soar.

That’s the energy she misses. And that’s okay. I’m not a doctor, but I feel certain that rest is key now, that energy is building, strength is returning, her power waxes. It is just a matter of time before she is constantly bugging the crap out of me.

Though perhaps, as she grows stronger, I can also work on my weak points…

Tanja asked if I would wash her hair today.

“I know I did it myself last time, but I’m just not up for it today.”

“I, on the other hand, am very much up for it.”

“You sure.”

“I was born for this.”

And I am getting better at it, the conditioning, the detangling, etc.

But the reason I mention the shower is just because of a moment after all the hair care. Tanja gets to take the collar off for a minute so the pads can be changed out for a clean, dry set. This is an opportunity to apply some TLC to the normally hidden skin; she sits on a stool in front of the mirror and I gently scrub her neck with a small loofa and then apply moisturizer.

It’s lovely to see her face in the mirror. The absence of that collar changes so much. With the wet hair, freshly combed, she could be a kid almost.

Then the collar goes back on, like a clamshell, and I tighten it down with the strap on either side.

“How does that feel?” I ask, eyeing the fit.

She just looks at me in the mirror.

“Sorry,” I say.

The countdown is at 21 days. Three short weeks. It is conceivable that the doctor with look at the x-rays at that time and opt for more time. But let’s not imagine that right now 🙂