Tomorrow is a very big day, a day that I have both dreaded and looked forward to for a long time. We will put the roof on the cottage. This cottage was designed with SIPs (structural insulated panels) for the roof. These are eight foot by sixteen feet and weigh about 400 lbs each. It has given me countless sleepless or interrupted nights. When I first visualized this cottage, I envisioned a contractor doing all the work except for the finishing touches, which I would do. Well, one thing led to another and I took on more and more of the work.

My son Tyler (a finish carpenter) his friend Michael (a framer) and one of Michael’s co-workers will attempt this task. My eldest son, Bryan, is in town from Minnesota. While a biochemist by training, he is skilled in building things. So, along with this crew, I hope we can get this done in three days.

People have often asked why I don’t ask for help. The answer is complex. The simplest answer is the help I need is a skilled work crew and that’s what I will have tomorrow. The other reason is that I intended to work at my own slow pace. My energy level is half what it used to be. I’m on two chemos, each with the side effect of severe fatigue. The problem with working with others, which I learned when I had a contractor do the fondation, and now with this crew, is that I must work at their pace because they are on the clock. They do this for a living. When this crew said they could come this week, it meant that I had to work 6-8 hard hours per day for three weeks to get ready for them. This is far beyond my capacity. I am bone tired and injured. I feel like Indiana Jones after he board the ship (in the Raiders of the Lost Ark) leaving Egypt and he said every part of his body hurt.

I will video tape our progress tomorrow and post it here. I feel anxiety as if one thing going wrong could be a disaster. Most of all, I pray that no one gets hurt.

This morning I started my chemo at a new facility, Skagit Valley Hospital. My local oncologist left his practice on our little island, plus my chemo has to be given here as an eight-hour IV infusion. On the mainland I can get is as an hour subcutaneous injection. Things went well. My labs shows that I’ve entered my fourteenth month of stringent remission, for which I am deeply grateful.

Now, if I can only get a roof, and the final metal on this cottage, I can take a break and catch a breath.

Mike