the basement

When Bob was first diagnosed with cancer, we went to the Mayo Clinic to get the definitive diagnoses and discuss treatment options.  When we returned from Mayo and were waiting on insurance to approve the transplant here in Denver, we had about a month (so we thought) to wait.  Bob was trying so hard to do something to keep his mind off of the impending transplant, that he decided that he was going to remodel our basement during that month.  In my opinion — it was a horrible decision.  He had the crazy idea that he would just ‘fix it up really quickly’ before the transplant.  I, to this day, do not know what made him decide to take on such a project.  And I, to this day, cannot go into that basement without horrible memories.

So 3 days ago, when I had a house full of family and Bob’s pool playing buddies (trying to get his last bit of visiting in before transplant this time)…and I walked into the basement and stepped onto soaking wet carpet, all of those horrible memories came FLOODING (pun intended) back.

Bob reacted very well.  So did his pool-playing buddies.  They sucked up all the dirty water they could with the wet-dry vac and continued their pool game.  I asked Bob, “What are we going to do?!”  He responded, pool stick in hand, “I’m playing pool, call a plumber.”   Plumber came, snaked drain…all good on that front.

Aimie came over Saturday and shampooed the carpet for us.  Sunday I shampooed again (still wet and stinky).  Finally Sunday evening Bob went downstairs with a utility knife and tore the carpet up, pulled out the wet pad, threw it away.  All good on that front now too.

In the middle of it all, I thought, “Not again!  Not again!  Not again!  We will not be remodeling / re-carpeting this basement a week before tranplant again!!”  No we won’t.  I’m closing the door to the basement.  I’m closing the door to fear.  I’m closing the door to the past.  It won’t be the same as last time.  It won’t.


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