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~ Diabetes, Cancer Fighter, Father of Twins, Kayak Fishing, Woodcrafter, Lover of Life

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Tag Archives: Mom

One Day at a Time with Mom and Dad

11 Saturday Jul 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Family, Life, Uncategorized

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Tags

Ageing, Arthritis, Dad, elder, Family, gardening, Grass, health, Lawn Mower, Life, Mom, Nature, Pain, Parents, Scoliosis, writing, Yard, Yard Work

Yesterday I got off to a later start than I had planned. I rolled up to my parents’ house a few minutes before 9:00 a.m. My goal had been to get there by 8:00, but I just couldn’t get moving. By the time I had eaten breakfast and made my second round of coffee, I was already running behind.

When I arrived, I didn’t see my parents’ car. Sometimes they park inside the garage, but most of the time it’s sitting just outside.

I unloaded the lawnmower, which takes a few minutes since it’s on a trailer. Once it was off, I moved it onto the driveway to make a few adjustments to the mower deck and ensure it was level.

Normally, by this point, Dad is already outside with me because his driveway alarm lets him know whenever someone pulls up. Since I hadn’t seen either of them, I figured one of them must have had a doctor’s appointment and had forgotten to tell me.

I started the mower and began cutting the grass. About thirty minutes later, I spotted Dad. Evidently, he had been outside the whole time working somewhere in the backyard. He was soaked with sweat. He had been picking up limbs to clear the way so I could mow the yard.

I immediately stopped the mower and told him he had done enough. I made him go inside where it was cool. I stood there and watched until I saw him walk across the deck and into the house. It was simply too hot for him to be outside doing that kind of work.

I mowed for a little over an hour before taking a break. When I went inside, Dad was sitting on the couch. He had changed shirts, but I could still tell he was overheated from being outside. I fussed at him a little for staying out there long enough to get that hot.

My poor mother was sitting on the other side of the room, bent over from the arthritis pain in her neck. She’s been dealing with that pain for several years now, and it just keeps getting worse. Unfortunately, there’s really nothing that can be done. She’s been rubbing Hemp cream on her neck, and it seems to help for a couple of hours, but the pain always returns.

Seeing my elderly parents in this condition always weighs heavily on my heart because I know the day will eventually come when they won’t be with us anymore.

Mom has been living with one kind of pain or another ever since they were involved in that terrible head-on collision back in 2014. She used to stand nearly six feet tall. Today, she’s barely five feet because of scoliosis and arthritis. She’s so hunched over and in so much pain. She refuses to just sit still. She wants to tend to her flowers and keep the house clean, but she’s reached the point where she simply can’t do those things anymore. Most days she ends up sitting in her recliner in the den, wishing she could still do what she once did.

Dad keeps talking about buying a new lawnmower. The truth is, he doesn’t need another mower because he doesn’t need to be cutting the grass anymore. But he refuses to slow down. He’s always got to be working on something. No one can convince him otherwise.

He’s a smart man. There’s a lifetime of knowledge locked away in that brain of his, and every now and then I still have to make a phone call and dig some of that knowledge out. I’ll definitely miss that someday.

After I finished cutting the grass, we were sitting on the back deck when I told him he didn’t need to worry about buying another mower. I told him I’d be more than happy to come up every couple of weeks and cut the grass for him. He seemed to appreciate that… right up until he asked if he could sit on my mower and drive it around to compare it to his old one. Before long, we were right back to talking about buying a new mower.

After everything was finished, Dad and I sat on the back deck talking for several hours before Mom joined us. A cool breeze had started blowing, making it comfortable enough to just sit and enjoy each other’s company.

We talked about life and the choices we’ve made over the years. We talked about my kids and the possibility of grandchildren someday since two of my three children are talking about getting married.

Mom quietly said she hopes she’ll still be around when my children become parents, but she isn’t sure that will happen.

To be honest, I have my doubts too.

But I’m still praying we’re both wrong.

Built with Love (and a Little Bit of Crooked Math)

30 Thursday Apr 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Arts and Crafts, Cancer, Disability, Family, Fishing, Kayaking, Leukemia, Life, Nature, Retirement, Uncategorized, Woodworking

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Tags

adventure, Appointment, Back Pain, Bible Study, CML, Doctor, Family, gardening, Gift, Handmade, Leukemia, Life, love, Math, Mom, Mother's Day, Pain, Theology, Tools, Woodworking, writing

With Mother’s Day fast approaching, I decided it was time to push through the pain and make something for my mom. She loves plants—like, really loves plants—so I figured a couple of wooden planters would be the perfect gift. Plus, I’ve got a pile of scrap wood that’s been quietly judging me for months, including some cypress fencing material my wife has been not-so-subtly encouraging me to “do something with.”

So, around 9:30 this morning, I dragged all my equipment outside and got to work. By about 11:30, I had everything cut down to size and was feeling pretty good about life. That’s usually the exact moment things take a turn.

I started assembling the first planter and quickly realized something wasn’t right. The pieces weren’t lining up like the plans said they should. Now, the plans called for ¾-inch wood… and I’m working with ½-inch. Details, right? Apparently not. Turns out, those little fractions matter.

Still, I pressed on.

At this point, I’ve got one planter about 90% complete. It’s… let’s just say “custom shaped.” Not exactly square, which means putting the top boards on requires some math. And if you’ve followed me for any length of time, you already know—math and I are not on speaking terms. I’m pretty sure an angle finder is in my near future, the next time I wander into the store pretending I know what I’m doing.

After spending most of the day bending, lifting, and moving around, my back has officially filed a formal complaint. Sitting usually doesn’t bother me, but tonight I can’t seem to find a position that doesn’t make me question why I thought this was a good idea. The heating pad is doing its best, but the second I move, my back reminds me who’s really in charge. I took a pain pill earlier, but it’s apparently operating on its own schedule.

After looking at what I’ve completed on this planter, I’m not really happy with it. It’s one of those projects that looked a whole lot better in my head than it does sitting in front of me. So, there’s a good chance this one becomes a “keep it at the house” planter, and I’ll come up with something else for Mom.

I guess you could say this was my practice run… whether I planned it that way or not.

It all really depends on how I’m feeling after this upcoming pain block. If I can get a little relief and move around without feeling like my back is plotting against me, I may give it another shot and build something I’m actually proud to give her.

If not, well… Mom may be getting something a little less handmade and a little more store-bought this year—and honestly, she’ll probably love it just the same.

As for doctor updates, I’ve now got two appointments lined up—one with the orthopedic in mid-June and another with a pain specialist next Thursday. I’m hoping the pain specialist can help take the edge off until June gets here.

And yes, I’ll admit it… I probably shouldn’t have stayed out on that kayak as long as I did last Thursday. But I’ll still argue it was worth it. I needed that time on the water—maybe just not that much time.

Tomorrow looks like it’ll be a recliner day. I plan on catching up on my Bible study material for Tuesday morning. Theology isn’t exactly my strong suit, but I’m giving it my best shot—kind of like woodworking and math.

I also had a visit with my oncologist last week. My iron levels were low again, so they gave me a shot of Epoetin alfa to help boost my red blood cell production. They also ran my BCR-ABL1 test to check on my CML. The last several tests over the past six months have come back non-detectable, which is great news. I’m curious to see how this one turns out, though—it seems like those numbers like to keep me guessing. Should have results in a few days.

Other than that, things are pretty quiet around here. I’ll finish up that planter (eventually), survive the math, and hopefully have something worth showing for it.

I’ll check back in when I’ve got something else to write about… or when the second planter decides to humble me too.

A Doorbell Camera and a Second Chance With My Dad

12 Thursday Feb 2026

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Family, Life, Photography, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

age, Dad, Family, Life, love, Memories, Mom, Parents, Siblings, time, tremors, writing

A sunset through the windshield of my truck on my way home from installing the doorbell camera.

Today I had the privilege of spending most of the afternoon with my parents. Both of them are in their mid-eighties and, overall, are doing well. Mom has some health issues and deals with a lot of pain from arthritis and scoliosis. A woman who once stood nearly six feet tall is now just over five feet because she’s so hunched over. Dad is also hunched over some, but not from scoliosis — it’s from injuries sustained in a head-on collision they were both involved in back in 2016. I count it as a blessing every day that they are both still here after that accident.

Dad’s tremors are so bad now that he can’t sign his name anymore. If legal documents need to be signed, he either has me sign for him or uses a rubber stamp with his signature on it. He still eats with regular utensils, but you can tell it’s a struggle.

He called me last week because he bought a doorbell camera and needed help installing it. Today was the first day I’ve had without doctor appointments or other commitments that were hard to move on short notice.

My parents live about 45 minutes away. It’s really not that far, and honestly, I should visit more often — especially now.

When I got there, Dad was outside trying to remove the old doorbell. He was struggling because he didn’t have the right size screwdriver, and with his tremors… well, even with the right tool, it would have been tough.

After I got the old one off, we went inside, and he handed me the unopened box with the new camera. He told me it was supposed to use the existing doorbell wiring for power. I kept that in mind while reading the manual.

The problem was that nowhere in the manual did it mention using the existing wiring. What I was reading and what this 86-year-old man was telling me were two completely different things.

Let me pause and tell you something about my dad. He is never wrong. Or maybe more accurately… he never admits to being wrong. And he really doesn’t like being told he is. So installing this camera took a lot longer than it should have, mostly because I had to carefully explain that what he thought and what the manual said were not the same thing — without actually saying, “Dad, you’re wrong.”

I have a Ring doorbell at my house. Installing mine took about 30 minutes total — removing the old one, installing the new one, connecting Wi-Fi, and setting up the app. Thirty minutes, tops.

Today? It took from 11:30 AM until just after 4 PM to install the doorbell, set up and configure the app, connect the monitor to Wi-Fi, mount the monitor on the wall, and then teach Dad how to use everything. Between learning the system myself and teaching him step by step, it was a process.

I’m not sure if I should be embarrassed it took that long… or proud I got it done that fast, considering everything involved.

Growing up, Dad and I didn’t get along very well. The older I got, the worse it seemed to get. We were both hard-headed, both quick-tempered, and we yelled a lot. I never felt like I could please him. We fought often, and honestly, I was glad when the day came that I could move out.

But now I’m older. I have kids of my own. I’ve lived some life. And our relationship is better than it’s ever been.

I’m the oldest of four — two younger brothers and a baby sister. I don’t live the closest, but I’m probably the most mechanically inclined. I can turn a wrench. The others are more keyboard-and-screen guys. So when something physical or mechanical needs to be done, I usually get the call.

And honestly? I don’t mind anymore.

It gives me time with them. Real-time. Time I know is limited. It feels like I’ve been given a second chance with my dad.

It’s still not always easy. Telling him he’s wrong without telling him he’s wrong is an art form that requires patience and diplomacy.

When I left today, the doorbell was working, the monitor was mounted, and both he and Mom were thankful I came. As I was walking out, Dad said he didn’t think he could have done it himself because it was more complicated than he expected.

And truthfully, some of these modern devices are just more complicated than they need to be.

But today wasn’t really about installing a doorbell camera.

It was about time.
It was about patience.
It was about grace.

Because one day, there will be no phone call asking for help installing something.
One day, there will be no slow walk to the door to greet me.
One day, there will be no tremor-shaken hands trying to turn a screwdriver.

And when that day comes, I won’t remember how long it took to install that camera.
I’ll remember standing next to my dad.
I’ll remember my mom sitting nearby, hurting but smiling.
I’ll remember being needed.

If you’re lucky enough to still have your parents here, go see them.
Take the phone call.
Fix the thing.
Explain the manual.
Be patient.

Because sometimes second chances don’t come as big life moments.

Sometimes they show up as a five-hour doorbell installation on a random afternoon…
And you don’t realize how important it was until you’re driving home.

Happy Mothers Day to All Mothers

10 Sunday May 2020

Posted by Tim Hughes Living with CML in Diabetic, diet, Gym, Photography, Twins, University of Alabama, Weight Loss

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

daughters, diet, Graduation, Mom, Weightloss, Weightloss goal

_3TH0522

I hope you got a chance to visit your mother today or at least made or received a phone call. I got to visit mine for a few minutes. We practiced social distancing while visiting her on our porch.  My mom is in her mid 80’s so she won’t be here with us too much longer so I want to spend as much time with her as possible, front porch or not.

My family spent the afternoon last Saturday taking pictures at the University of Alabama, where my two daughters graduated.  I’m so proud of both of them.  The one on the left will go into advertising while the other will be going into childhood education.

Off-topic…The person I’m seeing in the mirror in the mornings as I’m getting into the shower is beginning to disgust me once again. You and I both know what that means.  My gym will be opening soon and then there is that treadmill downstairs.  In the meantime. I’ll be watching what I eat and walking on the treadmill.  I’ll need all the encouragement I can get.  The goal…10 pounds in 10 weeks.

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