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Measuring Our Lives in Pancakes
What a relief to finish radiation treatments at the end of March 2018, and be able to return to our definition of health as a couple: me the one who could stil scramble up ladders and mountains, and Dave the one who needed to carefully balance his insulin and meals, in order to get from the bedroom to the breakfast table.
More importantly, both of us kept our historical research wheels spinning, feeding into each other’s interests. The town of Lyndonville, the college there (home of Dave’s 20-year career), and the philanthropist who nurtured both, T. N. Vail, kept Dave digging into related newspaper articles, Library of Congress records, and the vintage postcards we collected. His Facebook page kept hopping, along with other history ones where he contributed.
Good thing he could do all that from his desk, because the stairs became increasingly hard for him, and even riding in the car exhausted him. I know we made it to Polly’s Pancake Parlor, our favorite eatery, in mid April, because he took this photo of me and my breakfast then.
How could I keep him able to get to the places and people he loved?
