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Gotta Run

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.
Recent posts

Sea Sick

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

Grief and Appreciation

(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

Paradise Crushed

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

Slippery Kid

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

Orbiting Space Junk

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

Day 30: London—>LHR—>IAD—>Home

How can we be going home when it feels like we just arrived? These magical 30 day gave us so many core memories and so many more laughs. The UK and the Republic of Ireland is an amazing place filled with just salt of the earth people. It’s cliche, but I’m going home changed. Not just because I have a raging rash from COVID, but because I feel like a piece of my heart will remain here, specifically North Wales, but the UK nonetheless. But, we have no time for long, sentimental goodbyes as we need to vacate the flat of 1000 steps by 10am! Our flight is not until 7pm, but considering the fragile health of the family we are going to Heathrow and relaxing there until it’s time to board. We have no energy to walk around outside with 5 suitcases and 4 backpacks. Our Airbnb host allowed us to leave our bags in the flat until 11 so we could get a bite to eat for breakfast before heading to LHR. We found a super cute al fresco breakfast cafe and bakery. Mrs. Koog and the boys had baked goods

Day 29: London—>Leavesden—>London

Here we are, the last full day of our amazing UK holiday. Before leaving the US, we purchased ridiculously expensive (£750.00) tickets to the Harry Potter Studio Tour in Leavesden, just outside of London. They will not consider a refund and we were advised to just come anyway. B-Koog was on the upswing, I was not feverish and E and Mrs. Koog were healthy. So, we all donned masks, hailed a car and rode to Leavesden. The driver dropped us off in front of Warner Bros. Studio and we walked into the building. I started to feel very lightheaded and dizzy simultaneously, the alarms on both my phone and Apple Watch were blasting. Apparently due to the mask, my O2 levels were below 90%. We found a corner near the door and sat down so I could take some deep breaths. I enquired again about a refund since now I could not wear a mask without oxygen deprivation. Still no refund or even a credit for when we return next summer. So, I did my best…I had my mouth covered and kept my nose out and stayed

Day 28: Dover—>London

We woke up tied to the pier in Dover. Disembarkation day. I don’t have the best luck on debarkation day… The last time the boys and I had a disembarkation day was in NYC in April as the end of our spring break Caribbean Cruise. That fateful morning in April, E-Koog had been sick all night and Mrs. Koog was getting ready to head to the front desk to see if we could get off early so as to not spread norovirus among our co-travelers. The 5am conversation went like this: Mrs. Koog: “Koog, where are my pants?” Me (still in a sleep coma): “I don’t understand” Mrs. Koog: “I don’t have my pants. Where are my pants?” Me: “I don’t understand” Mrs. Koog (frantically searching drawers, closet, under beds and in backpacks): “I. DO. NOT. HAVE. PANTS. WHERE. ARE. MY. PANTS?” Me: “You don’t have pants?” Mrs. Koog (annoyed and amused) “Correct, I do not have pants.” So, as to not duplicate this conversation as we prepared to disembark this cruise, I have emergency pants for all of us hidden