The following events are true. Names have been changed or omitted, but the details remain unaltered…at least, as far as my overtaxed brain will allow….

In the spring of 2024, my husband and I decided it was time to assess our situation. We loved our near century-old Tudor house, but aspects of it were unfriendly to our advancing age. Thus we decided it would be in our best interests to either downsize and move (a major feat considering one of us is a prize-winning pack rat—ahem), or remodel our home to accommodate our needs. To that end, we engaged the skills and talents of an architect we greatly admired.

He delighted us with the design of a small addition which would give us all the ADA amenities we would need to live on the first floor of our two-story home when we could no longer maneuver safely between floors.

And this is where the joy ends….

***

By the end of July, after getting bids from four contractors, we hired one. His bid was reasonable. He told us work could start by the beginning of September (in fact, he put a sign on our front lawn attesting to this), and would be completed in three to four months.

Sound familiar? When it comes to construction, I can’t help but have sympathy for anyone bedeviled by it. And yes, one of the contractors who gave us a bid, and who we very kindly allowed to use our powder room, actually peed on our floor….

But I digress….

The man we hired seemed competent and nice enough. When we pointed out a leak in my office ceiling, he volunteered to go into the attic to find the source. And, when he found it, he went right out to buy the parts he needed to fix it, and returned to the attic, even though it was a blisteringly hot day.

How could we not feel confident we made the right choice?

***

But, like many tales, this is one with a subplot.

Right around the same time we hired a contractor, my husband became increasingly troubled by a nasty cough. Infection? Inflammation? We had no idea, and went to our doctor, who didn’t like what he heard and ordered the usual imaging: x-rays, CT scan, PET scan—all of which came back suspicious but inconclusive. To make matters worse, our doctor was retiring and we found ourselves looking for another primary care doctor while my husband and I were wondering what was going on.

But back to our addition….

***

September 1st came and went. The contractor got waylaid by additional work that needed to be done on a previous project, and we were left with endless promises that work would begin soon, which, in contractor-speak, means, “Whenever we can get to it.”

It wasn’t until mid-October that the equipment arrived and demolition and excavation began.

But, by this time, after more tests and visits to specialists, we were told it was likely that my husband’s cough was being caused by a cancerous tumor.

On November 11, 2024, a biopsy confirmed it.

Meanwhile, the work outside went on…in fits and starts.

To be continued….

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