Are the kids even aware of how much they lean on each other now? They hang out on the patio and play a board game or build a fire in our little fire pit. Sometimes, they sit together and play silly computer games like “slither” or “octodad.” It’s shockingly normal in our very abnormal lives.

The thing about cancer is that it will steal everything from you, if it can:  your confidence, your privacy, your energy, your appetite, your short term memory!, even your relationships. And I’m not just talking about the patient. Cancer steals from the whole family. Low resilience today? Don’t worry; there are new challenges coming your way. Perhaps new tumors, ugly side effects or maybe something prosaic like a flat tire.

I haven’t changed a tire in more than twenty years but this week, the Mini got a flat. AAA sent Haley, me and the car home in (and on!) a flatbed truck. (Thank you, Rich, for arriving in 20 minutes — instead of the two hours we were told — when you heard we were stranded roadside.)

Haley and I tried to take the tire off by ourselves; we were, unfortunately, foiled by machine-tightened lug nuts. We had to call on Tristan’s strength, a harsh blow to “girl power” but one does what one must.  Ken even came out for a couple minutes to help Tristan work a particularly tight lug nut loose, though he went back into the cool quickly. At 90F, the day was far too hot for him.

I had a secondary adventure since the replacement tire was not on a wheel. The mechanic at Costco said, “Did you buy this tire here?” Well, of course not. “Does that matter?” I asked. Sigh. “I’ll put the good tire on the wheel and dispose of the flat for $20,” he said.  “Sold.”  While I was putting the new tire on the car, two women stopped to ask if everything was okay. Isn’t that lovely?!

Our new refrigerator was also delivered today. The delivery men had to take the old frig apart to get it out of the house. Luckily, the new one was in pieces (the doorways in our 120 year old house are only 29 inches wide). The swinging door between the kitchen and hallway was, however, a big problem and the delivery men wouldn’t touch it.

Fortunately, Tristan and Ian were able to help, taking the swinging door off its hinge (during which the spring mechanism exploded across the room). Thank goodness there were no important body parts in the way, because the spring is at least 5 inches long, highly compressed, and very heavy.

Replacing the spring was much harder than shooting it across the room. Tristan figured out that we could compress the coils with zip ties but it took hours to get it small enough to fit in the hinge. At one point, after multiple attempts, I experienced DOUBT and went to Lowes for a replacement.

The very nice Lowes employee assured me that there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in Hell that I would find that hinge mechanism at any store (except maybe Pittsburgh’s hidden treasure, Construction Junction, which specializes in reclaiming antique and historically relevant hardware, furnishings, etc).  So, I returned home and reapplied myself to the task.

About the time I was ready to throw it through a window (also original to the house so I could NEVER actually throw anything at the windows!), Haley sat down with me and gently slipped the spring right into the hinge mechanism. She held it up, I looked at it, put my head on the table, and burst into tears. “Mom, mom. I’m sorry. Do you want me to take it out?” “No. No, I really don’t want you to take it back out.” “Then why are you crying?” “I have no idea.”