konfessions of the Koog

When Mrs. Koog got the breast cancer diagnosis, she decided her course of treatment would be double mastectomy with autologous reconstruction. Since they couldn't do the surgery in one procedure due to surgical suite availability for the duration of the ~20 hour surgery, it was done in 2 parts. Double mastectomy and implants for a while then the autologous reconstruction a few months later. While Mrs. Koog looked amazing with her new bubbies, they were aggressive. Like Real Housewives aggressive. That look is really not Mrs. K's jam. Plus, she had many nightmares of puncturing those babies while she did one of her less glamorous chores like chainsawing trees or digging ditches. Suffice it to say, she wanted them out and her own tissue in. The plastic surgeon she sees is amazing. And very handsome. And he looks like he is 14. Anyway, he could not stop admiring his handiwork at every appointment. It was almost creepy...almost. He was very honest about the surgery and the rec...

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...

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 ...

Before Mrs. Koog came into my life I was like a piece of space junk orbiting the atmosphere, dangerously bumping into other junk. I wasn’t lost per se, I was just going around in a big circle. I thought I was in love with another woman, Island Girl, that lived outside of the US. Actually, she had just told me she was looking to move to the States when I met the Missus. We met online. It’s kind of funny, actually. A friend of mine saw the craziness of my orbit and took matters into her own hands. She signed me up for every online dating platform available in 2004. Match, Plenty of Fish, E-Harmony, even J-Date and I’m not Jewish! I was amused and mildly annoyed at my friend after telling her I met and liked Island Girl. I thought I’d taken all the profiles down and on Valentine’s Day 2005 I got an email. Except, I wasn’t there to receive it, I was on my way to visit Island Girl. After my visit I returned home to an email from this new girl. There was no photo. Ick. I’m self aware eno...