Here’s another for ya. A few weeks ago, the night before Cole was scheduled for admission to the hospital to begin dialysis treatment, he decided to fix a toilet! At the time, he was sleeping 18 to 20 hours per day and was terribly weak from the poisons accumulating in his body, but he decided the work had to be done then and there.
I made three trips to as many hardware stores to obtain the parts he wanted (and my only mechanical vocabulary consists of the term gizmo and whatchamacallit). When I arrived home, he had taken the entire toilet apart, scrubbed the water tank and was sitting down every three or four minutes to catch his breath.
Two hours passed while he worked to get everything right (yes, he’s definitely Type A, as well as an engineer), and finally all was complete. He had replaced everything except for the porcelain tank and bowl—a great job up to his usual standards. Except—the thing that originally broke was the handle—the one thing he didn’t think to ask me to buy!
So, a week later, after a six-day hospital stay, he returned to do this last chore. The toilet now works perfectly, and he wouldn’t have it any other way! I love his spirit of DIY, but that adventure could have done him in.
Judy