On her way to the car, Jane hit the door open button for the garage. In the dark of 6am in Spokane winter. She settled in (I’d been warming the car.) and I hit the door open button on the car visor and backed out. Hit the garage door. It IS a both open and close button. We got the door up again. But it wouldn’t close. And we’ve had garage prowlers in our neighborhood last week.

Took her to the hospital. Came back home—because of Covid they aren’t letting ANYBODY upstairs. I started trying to bend the door back into shape with a mattock-pick. No go. And I’m so weak from the chemo I could hardly lift the pick. I went in and called the Overhead Door company and explained my situation. They got somebody there within 30 minutes, and over the next hour, got it fixed enough to work until 2 new panels and a support beam can get here.

Jane, meanwhile, had the surgery. I got a ‘she’s doing great’ call from the surgeon-assistant. And tried to sleep, which I hadn’t done last night. Got maybe an hour of sleep. I was ahle to talk to her by phone—briefly—she had phys therapy and other assessments to go—and about 4 pm to come pick her up. Supper was a malted shake (full size) at Dairy Queen. She walks with a walker assist. Watched a little telly, and set up Alexa to be ‘on’ between my room and hers, so that if she needed help she could just talk and I’d hear.

Morning, and she’s up and got her own breakfast. She has to get up and walk every little bit. I got some sleep. All’s well with the world and the garage door works.