“What’s my time again, Dad?” Lucas kept his eye on the pool, his swim cap a wee bit big for his head. It scrunched his eyebrows into an involuntary look of perplexity. “1:15:24,” I replied. “Remember to ask the timers how you did when you pull out of the water.” He nodded, still watching the current competitors as they finished their final strokes and tagged the wall. The PA announced his heat.

We retreated to Palm Springs for the weekend. But for a few family meltdowns, it was a therapeutic holiday. I’ll post more shortly.

Her counts were good when she went for labs this week, so she’s back on chemotherapy. She ran a slight fever Tuesday night. The medical team pulled her from school as a precaution and she has not returned. She has a lot of trouble walking. She continues to lose her footing and fall often, but it’s her stride that’s most affected now. She walks awkwardly, with heavy steps. Her arms extend so that she can catch her balance and use furniture to steady herself.

There was fanfare. There was ballyhoo. It was our own undertaking of “Make a Wish” … sort of. Last weekend, Jordan, Jeanette and I indulged in a Manhattan retreat while Luc happily slept over with friends. The trip was planned for more than a year. Under normal circumstances, it would have just been me and Jordan. I often bring one of the kids along on my business travels. They enjoy spending the time alone with me and it’s usually easy to book a sitter in my regular travel circuit.

Exhaustion got the best of her. Two days at the hospital in the same week. The pace of treatment and logistics and unknowing sapped all her energy. When the alarm sounded at 6am, nearly five minutes passed before Jeanette slapped the snooze. I was away, and my wife was tired. Luc woke before dawn. The act of waking early makes him proud. He climbed down from his bunk and dressed as the sun peaked over the San Gabriels to the east.