konfessions of the Koog

It was big. It was long. It was hard. (Get your minds out of the gutter).  Shortly before Christmas, Mrs. Koog got the 1/31 date for the autologous reconstruction surgery. We were warned to get everything done that needed 2 people because as of 1/31 she was out of commission. Strangely, I took this as a challenge. Here's what we (I) decided we needed to accomplish between 1/1 and 1/30: 1. Clean out garage 2. Order huge new television, 5 speaker sound system with only a notional plan on how to hang it in our family room 3. Due to #2, completely rearrange the family room due to both the new TV, speakers and the GINORMUS lift chair we got to assist the Mrs. after surgery 4. Move B-Koog from his current bedroom, where he and E-Koog share a bathroom, to a new bedroom so he has his own bathroom to prevent more violence due to gross bathroom habits (another blog completely) 5. Buy B-Koog new bed since new room will not fit current bed 6. Paint B-Koog's new room and bathroom

It’s been more than two weeks since I’ve last written. The best news is surgery #1 was successful in evicting the cancer. We are so grateful to the surgical team at Georgetown University Lombardi Cancer Clinic/Oursman Breast Center. There are still some unknowns when it comes to treatment and the more extensive surgery #2, but no cancer is a great phrase to hear and write. I should be in a very celebratory mood, right? I’m not. It’s strange this existence I’m inhabiting right now. The things that used to incite joy just don’t anymore. As a matter of fact, I can’t seem to find joy or contentment anywhere. What is wrong with me? Luckily, I do have much more headspace for work, so that’s been a slight change for the better. Before the cancer was out, I worked but really just meandered through the day with limited brain capacity to think about anything other than Mrs. Koog and the “possible but not probable” outcome. But as for my non-work life, I’d describe it as uncomfortable.

I’m sitting here in the surgical waiting room at Medstar Georgetown University (MGUH). So many of our friends and family offered to accompany me during this vigil. I couldn’t articulate why I needed to be alone, but I just felt like I needed to silently grieve what my wife was losing and I didn’t want to burden anyone with that heavy silence. When I am stressed, I write. Ever since I was a kid, words were always my source of comfort in times of crisis and they were my source of memory in times of fun and excitement. But today, a day when I have such acute feelings of sadness, grief and gratitude, I find I’ve lost my words. I thought about why this was as I wandered (read: got lost) the MGUH labyrinth of buildings in search of food. Finally finding the Chick-Fil-A, grabbing my food and swallowing my tears it hit me. I didn’t lose my vocabulary, there’s just so many layers to the sadness, fear and gratitude it's overwhelming and it's very close to the surface. Arriving at the

(Disclaimer: My thoughts are scattered these days. Trying to put together a coherent narrative is hard. Please be kind with any criticism of my rambling. These are my thoughts and feelings as I’m experiencing them in real-time.) I feel like I’m caught in a rip current of sadness and grief. It’s a funny thing, grief. It’s like an insidious wave of water just waiting to pull me from safety and stability. Lately, everything has become a trigger. EVERYTHING. Songs, leftovers in the fridge, memories, pictures, driving, soccer games, groceries…like I said, everything. We spent last weekend driving to and from upstate NY to return Momma-Koog home after watching the boys for us the prior weekend. I drove E-Koog, Mrs. Koog and Momma-Koog last Friday night. B-Koog, the newly minted Leader of his Scout Patrol, was at a Camporee last weekend. Anyway, we picked up E-Koog from school at lunchtime and got on the road for the 7 hour ride to the 518. About 25 miles into the drive, I bega

Entering Heathrow on our way back to the US from the UK, I’ve started scheming and plotting to get back as soon as possible. Mrs. Koog firmly told me as we boarded our flight home we should pay for the trip we were still ON before buying tickets to return. Her thriftiness is endearing...sometimes. Anyway, fast forward 3 1/2 weeks…Thursday, Sept 14, 2023 to be exact. I had been pleading our return to the UK case since before we were wheels-up at LHR, and I felt like we had moved her toward a "yes." The little Koogs had just left for school and we were watching the Today Show as I checked my work email and sipped my tea. The return itinerary was limited to 3 weeks and was only Ireland (Northern and Republic of) and, of course, my beloved Wales. I was giddy as Mrs. Koog was joining me in finding places to stay around the Emerald Isle, even sending me the VRBO link to a lighthouse for rent on Arranmore Island, where her people are from in County Donegal. Our exchange

Life is never dull with the Koog twins. Before we left for our summer vacation, Mrs. Koog and the boys stripped the wallpaper in their bathroom (a jack and Jill adjoining room with 2 sinks and then a toilet and shower behind a different door) and tore down drywall to prep for a pocket door. Upon further reflection based on degree of difficulty and time constraints, Mrs. Koog decided to outsource the pocket door installation. This morning, A, our neighbor and general contractor came over to survey what we need done and give us an estimate. Poor guy, after being sniffed head to toe from Betsy the dog, he had to endure my contracts call. Pretty sure he was not jealous of my job after listening to 10 seconds of that call. We enter the bathroom through E-Koog’s room because B-Koog’s room should be condemned by the health department. Once in the bathroom, we close the door to E’s room so A can take measurements. Nothing really out of the ordinary or strange at this point. Once A is don