We haven’t seen one of the girls for a while. I took this picture the day I heard about Joe. Pippa became my comfort doll for the day.

I don’t have a lot to share because I’ve been focused on Joe. There is still no update as to his condition. I went on the text chain and asked about it yesterday morning. Maybe because of that, the communication between members of the chain is better. We’ve introduced ourselves to each other. Several of the members are part of his current church family. One is from the church he used to serve outside of Philadelphia (we met each other years ago.) One is Jan’s dear friend, Carol. His friend from Philadelphia started a second text chain that included Carol and me – perhaps because we’re not people from the church, but in our case, are longtime friends of Joe. Suzy has known him for over 30 years, Carol has known him for over 30 years, and I’ve known him for about 46 years.

That was helpful because I didn’t feel there was a lot of space for us to ask questions on the other chain. Carmel, Joe’s associate at the church, is overwhelmed, I think. Joe does have a niece and she and her husband are in Grand Rapids with him.

But the three of us came to the conclusion that they simply don’t know anything. No information is being withheld. I would presume he’s not conscious and is still on some sort of life support, whether it’s the ECMO machine or something else. It helped me a great deal to chat with these two lovely women throughout the morning yesterday.

Don is there for me when I need to talk about the whole thing, thank God.

But it’s a waiting game right now and frankly, it doesn’t look good.

I did grab some time to do a bit more painting in the hallway areas of the Beacon Hill. It kept me busy.

Don’s big birthday is next week and I’m going to do a little oil painting for him as one of his gifts. I’ll have to say that I’m working on the dollhouse when I’m actually painting a picture of the shed in wintertime.

Stay safe.

Happy Saturday.

Yesterday, my dear friend Joe was admitted to the hospital for a partial robotic nephrectomy. I spoke to him the night before; he was packing a bag, understandably nervous about the operation, and hoping he would only have to stay there one night. His friend, Carmel, was my contact for updates on the surgery, which started around 7:30 am. I was part of an 8 person text group so Carmel could update us all at the same time. The next text asked for prayers because Joe had a “cardiac event” as they started surgery. Resuscitation was in progress. After he was resuscitated, he was put on ECMO, and had a brain scan.

I had to look up ECMO – it stands for Extracorporeal Membrane Oxygenation. It is an “advanced temporary life-support machine that does the work of the heart and lungs for critically ill patients.” It makes sure the brain continues to receive oxygenated blood.

The next update said that Carmel and Melissa – two of Joe’s friends, he has no living family (correction: he has a niece)  – were trying to make the best decision as to his care and that he was going to be transferred to Butterworth Hospital in Grand Rapids – which is all the way across the state of Michigan from the Detroit area. They apparently have a specialized unit that can give the kind of care that he can’t get locally.

That was about 1:05 pm and we were told they would update us when they knew more.

It’s 8:06 am on Friday and there have been no updates.

I am heartsick for my dear friend. We’ve been friends for over 40 years. Joe, Jan, and I shared a house for about 3 or 4 years. I left to go to grad school. We were extremely close, the three of us. Joe was by Jan’s side last year as she fought a losing battle with pancreatic cancer. And now this, something I never expected would happen during his surgery.

Joe updated me about Jan all the time. I could text or call him and he’d tell me what was happening. If Jan was with us, she would do the same, but Jan has passed away and I only have this one contact. It’s such a powerless feeling. I’m not there, I’m far away, and I want to scream “Please, give me an update!” – which I am just about to do.

Joe is a year and a half younger than me.

From what I’ve heard about ECMO, this is as serious as it gets. And Mere tells me it’s very hard to come back from that kind of life support. It can be done, but what kind of quality of life will he have?

I know nothing more at this time.

Don stayed by my side all day yesterday. And he will today.

Please send out some prayers for my Joe.

I should add that Joe is a church organist, and many of the people on this text chain are people from his church. He is beloved there, so he has lots of support and for that I am grateful.

Stay safe.

Oh my god. The heat and humidity have just about done me in. All Don and I were capable of yesterday were the bare minimum of essential tasks and that was it. I watered outside and on the porch. And a bit of pruning in the early morning. That was it. I didn’t even work on the dollhouse. No A/C in that room. At one point, it was 94° but ‘felt like” 103°.

I also couldn’t keep my eyes open and I felt lethargic. I took an hour-long nap and I swear I could have slept more.

Another day of this slop today and some high temps tomorrow, as well. We had some rain last night and today we’re supposed to get thunderstorms.

I am going to make myself do a little work in the dollhouse this morning, just so I can say I DID something.

The Knicks, the Knicks, the Knicks! What an incredible game!

We have daisies popping up right next to the porch entrance:

There are more daisies this year than last. I love them. A ‘cheerful flower’ indeed.

I also did some work outside yesterday morning  and the humidity was so horrid, I thought I was going to pass out. All I was doing was some pruning, but my heavens, it was like walking through muck. So back inside I went.

The crown vetch is blooming. I’m so happy it came back. I think it’s beautiful.

So, a little dollhouse floor work today. Then, when it becomes unbearable, I will turn on the A/C downstairs. Oh yes, we did put in the bedroom unit and I have to say it went right in that window without the usual maneuvering stress. Easy as pie.

Okay, my friends. Time for our second cup of coffee.

Stay safe.

Happy Friday.