Last year on September 12, I wrote the first post about Andy and brain cancer. At that point, we didn’t know if it was brain cancer. We certainly didn’t know that he would be dead in May. Christie called me in Costco, and Andy and his death and me trying to convince the universe he wasn’t a good pick, they are all tied up in an inability to buy the right sized furnace filter.
Lost vision at the start of September. Diagnosis on October 17. Montana for the end of Chemo in December. Montana to have Andy committed to a psych ward in March. Covid. Andy died on May 8th. Not Montana for that, since the border was closed.
I know the timeline, mostly because I lived it. I can point to the kilometers on my car; when people ask if I went to concerts last year – Cancer ate most things for me last year.
I had bought more furnace filters during the Costco trip when Christie called me. I wasn’t sure if they were the right size, and they weren’t. I’ve tried to fix it twice since then. Both times I got the size wrong. I was in Costco a few weeks ago and I remembered the need as I was leaving. I’m not sure that Mr. Ice Cream understood how exhausting the furnace filter problem is; it’s not quite obvious how much is caught up in those furnace filters.
All of that became a bit clearer, at least to me, this afternoon. A work colleague, one I quite like has been diagnosed with cancer. Now, it’s very different. His chances are really quite good. But for a moment, as I struggled to catch my breath, I remembered. It really hasn’t been all that long.
It seems like I’ve been trying to solve the furnace filter problem for months. Maybe years. It’s not. Less than 8 months.
