Wednesday, July 15, 2015

The C Word Hits Home

In March of this year, the Bossman was diagnosed with colon cancer.

The prognosis wasn't terrible. It was stage 2; there'd be some chemo and radiation immediately with surgery to follow sometime in the summer (and then probably more chemo, because cancer sucks). There was generally some sickness expected with the chemo (he had pills to start with, so not too much sickness expected) and then the downtime that comes with major surgery. All in all, it fell into the "could be worse" category while still being, you know, cancer.

And yet, "could be worse" can be incredibly frustrating.

2015 has been a bit of a Year (at least in my family) and to be perfectly honest I may have thrown a fit or two when this particular piece of news came about. Why? What the heck was the point of that? What was up with the timing?

It was an entirely selfish response, I admit. However, my go-to coping response is assimilation, and a big part of me made the immediate assumption that my indestructible-seeming boss would eventually be fine. This was life now and that's all there was to it.

Mentally, I moved right past the diagnosis into planning mode. After all, he had to deal with the health ramifications; we could deal with the camp.

As it turned out, that surgery "sometime in the summer" actually meant last week on Tuesday, over in Rochester. Surgery went well but the first round of recovery had its ups and downs.

Things have gone fairly smoothly here, especially considering we've had our two largest groups back-to-back since he left. We have a summer staff that gets along and gets things done. The M-Man, Chef Lady and I have divvied up what we can. Aside from the part where I have to deal with bus arrangements (looking forward to handing that task back!), things have been ... okay.

Not great. Smooth, but with that lingering worry over your head about what might happen next.

Today, finally, some good news -- he's being released and will start making his way back. Then the hard part for the rest of us begins, because keeping the Bossman in one place is a bit like trusting your three-year-old with a full plate of cookies.

It's just not gonna happen.

And so it is that this particular adventure continues. It's certainly not what any of us had in mind -- least of all the Bossman himself -- but I suppose we just get to run with what we're given, right?

Except you, sir. No running for you anytime soon. Your wife is still in charge of duct-taping you to a chair if necessary.

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