To Build a Home
In the weeks and months since arriving home, much has happened. I have had my first post-cyberknife scans and been given the results; and our new apartment has been a whirlwind of activity, with Hans’s dedicated support transforming it from a house to a home.
First, let’s get the scan results out of the way. It was not without some apprehension that we made our way to the hospital. It had been a week after the scans, and many questions hung in the air, heavy and pressing. Has the cancer spread? If so, how much? Was cyberknife successful in treating the tumour? Will I need further treatment right away? What kind, and what toll would it take on my body? These answers would influence so much of the path forward that it was simply impossible to stake out a plan until we had them.
The results were, if not entirely positive, promising. There has been no metastatic spread to other parts of the body identified, and the growth of the existing tumour has ceased. It is still the same size, though, and we will not know whether it is dead or not until more time has passed. A 1mm hotspot was detected in a different part of the liver, too — but at that size, it may be a false reading and is of no immediate concern. The verdict, then, was that follow-up scans would be arranged for three months’ time, as part of the ongoing surveillance of the treated tumour, the 1mm hotspot, and the rest of my body. The lack of anything conclusive regarding the treated tumour was somewhat disheartening, but Alessandra and I were relieved to hear that there had at least been no spread or growth in the interim. Three months seemed too long a gap, considering that it is a quarter of the average life expectancy for someone with my diagnosis, but we could discuss that with my oncologist another time. For now, we had time and space to focus our energy elsewhere, uninterrupted by scans and treatment. This energy would be needed, for there was much to be done in preparing our new home.
For the most part, our days since getting back have been spent working on the apartment, in some form or another. As Hans, our contractor and friend, turned up his Latin music and set to renovating the bathroom, Alessandra and I began to paint. Painting is one of those jobs that presents itself as quick and easy. Fun, even. Just paint the walls, use the roller on the ceiling — yes, you might have to be a bit more careful with the edges, but that's the only hard bit! That’s what you think. Then you get started, and you quickly realise your mistake. It's all hard.
Stress bonding
Walls repainted off-white, the ceiling white, skirting boards and door frames with gloss, two coats of primer and semi-gloss for all the kitchen cabinetry and the new doors, prep work, cleanup...it seemed endless. By the time the final door was painted, we would have been happy never to hold a brush again...but then there are still all the touch-ups and missed sections — not to mention areas where the paint was scraped off by other work being done, or pulled off along with the painter's tape.
As painting kept us busy, the bathroom began to take shape. Hans did all the work himself, coming in every day in what seemed to be a permanently good mood. I love my job, he would tell us as he bustled about. Whenever we heard him curse about something, we just waited, because we knew what would happen: he would bring us over and point out the newest challenge. Then, there would be a pause. Then he would leap to life, waving his hands and exclaiming 'I fix it. No problem.' And he did, every time. Having Hans to help us has been a godsend, and I am not sure what we would have done without him. Between all the bathroom work, he helped us to silicone the gaps between the skirting boards and the walls, trim and install most of our new doors, as well as countless other small jobs along the way.
Miracle worker
...
Hans's assistance has not stopped there, either; a strange and synchronous set of events led to us welcoming Bruno — our old white, sporty Peugeot — back into the family. As I mentioned in a previous post, we originally met Hans when he came over with his niece and her boyfriend to buy Alessandra's car on their behalf. Since reconnecting, we hadn't thought to ask about the fate of the car, but one evening as we drove along the coast, I saw the familiar, black racing stripes. 'Hey,' I said to Alessandra, 'that looks a lot like your old car!' Alessandra looked over at the number plate. 'That is my old car!' she exclaimed. It was too dark to see who was driving it, but we made a mental note to ask Hans if it was still in the family.
The next day, at the apartment, we had completely forgotten to mention it when Hans himself brought up his niece's boyfriend, who was still living with him. We asked if he still had the Peugeot, and Hans replied that he did indeed — and he was about to put it on the market, for he would be moving to Switzerland in two weeks' time. We knew a sign when we saw one, and asked for his number to get in touch. Later that week, we went to see Bruno for the first time in over a year. He was in great condition — it seemed he had been detail-cleaned — and had recently received a new battery, windshield and fuel injector. We quickly agreed on a price and took him home with us that night.
...
Though we have been very fortunate, our experience in preparing the apartment has not been without its issues. One day, we were interrupted in our painting by a loud bang from just outside the apartment. We rushed out to discover that the man delivering our washing machine had attempted to park his ute in one of the undercover bays...but he did not account for the fridge on the back and the slope of the bay. Three of the four concrete pillars holding up the steel-sheeted awning had snapped and toppled, and the heavy roof was balanced upon the top of the fridge strapped to the ute and the remaining concrete beam — which was itself ready to collapse. Everyone got well out of the way, for there was nothing to stop the awning from coming down at any moment. One of the neighbours, Dan, was chairman of the strata council, and immediately took things into his own hands. He wrote down the driver's information calmly and respectfully, phoned the strata to get a crew on-site, and then turned to introduce himself to us.
Hero fridge
The rest of that day was spent waiting around in the rain, watching the site crew problem-solve a way of stabilising the roof enough to get the ute out from under it. In the end, they managed it with the clever use of several heavy-duty ladders and a few ratchet straps, with no injuries or further damage.
Then, there was the kitchen benchtop. We had a tradesman cut and install the new benchtops we’d bought at Ikea, and he had good reviews…but our experience of his work was anything but positive. We should have seen the warning signs — demanding 50% deposit before booking the job, asking to bring his kid along to the job, being dropped off by his mother due to losing his license — but our options were few, and we overlooked these hints about the professionalism of our installer. He cut and installed the benchtops themselves well enough, but had to leave early at the end of the second day for an appointment – though there was still work to be done to finish off. For example, the strips Ikea provided to glue to cut sections of benchtop – which could then be sanded down to a finish – had been glued, but not sanded. One section stuck out several inches from the end of the bench, and the extra width of the unsanded strips hung past the benchtop, making it impossible to open the top drawers of the kitchen island. Furthermore, he had disconnected the oven to install the benchtop, but not reconnected it, leaving the wires and powerboard hanging in a cabinet that no longer had any path back to the oven. Now that the new benchtop was attached, the only way we could reconnect the oven would be to unscrew and pull the whole unit out, cut a section through the inside back of two cabinets, and thread the power cable through. Casually, our contractor said he needed to go, and gave instructions of how to sand back the remaining strips and the above suggestion of how we might reconnect the oven. Stupefied, I haltingly asked if he might, perhaps, just come back and finish the job and, caught off-guard, he agreed to do so – only to message a few days later stating there would be an additional fee for the privilege of his time finishing the (already paid-in-full) job. When we contested this, he sent a series of messages criticising the materials we provided and praising his own skills in “polishing the turd” we gave him. Needless to say, we didn’t bring him back in, preferring to leave it to Hans, who had already said he could finish it off for us. When I have a moment, I’ll write up a full and honest review of the contractor’s services, in the hope that others won’t be placed in a similar situation by making the mistake of hiring him.
We had to snap off the extra length and sand it back ourselves — but to our contractor friend it was a finished job, well done.
…
The weeks passed, and we shifted from painting to other tasks. Under Hans’s careful guidance and encouragement, Alessandra learned to place and drill holes for all the cabinet handles, while I installed our wall-mounted TV and curtain rods. As Hans leapt from job to job, we went off on excursions to buy our furnishings. We ordered appliances, made multiple Ikea trips, and prepared for the big move. Then, without warning, Hans had finished, and we all stood back to appreciate the beauty of the finished product. Cool green cabinetry surrounded a walnut benchtop in the kitchen. The bathroom was light and warm, with a bowl sink atop a marble and wood vanity; and a simple floor of patterned tiles. The bedroom and office were warm and welcoming, with smooth, rich floorboards and bright walls. We had a home.
Home sweet home
In the end, Hans insisted on severely undercharging us for his work, and we were sad to see him go, having spent five days a week with him since arriving back from Peru. Still, we would be sure to invite him over to have dinner regularly – he had become part of our little family, after all.
When Hans took his tools and loaded his ute for the last time, we shifted gears, spending the next several weeks building all our Ikea furniture, cleaning every nook and cranny, setting up appliances and moving our possessions over from mum’s. Many trips to the tip were made – most with cardboard, but one with the masses of broken tiles and old doors that had lain so long in the porch, which we only managed with the help of Matt, my little brother; and my close friend, Solomon.
Skipping ahead to the present, and we are (mostly) set up at last. There remain a myriad of small jobs to do, but these are largely detail-oriented. We have lived in our new home for several weeks now, and have slowly built new routines and rituals into our lives — including regular walks by the foreshore, which is just down the road. I had the next set of scans last week, and will discuss results with my oncologist later this week. This, in turn, will guide what the next three months look like. With good news, I hope to take on a little work, and return more whole-heartedly to my writing and artistic practices. Wish us luck!
…
There has been a real shift in focus since we've arrived back, having been thrown in once more to the world of things and tasks, responsibilities and routines. Though this can be exhausting — and it's easy to lose our center in the midst of it all — there are also many lessons in the process. Here are a few I've picked up on over the three months following our return to Perth:
Every minute of happiness and ease in life is a gift. This lesson is particularly hard to keep in mind, but I keep expecting that my time is almost over, and so the windows of life that I am being given where I am healthy and pain-free are truly a blessing, and I try to feel the gratitude for them as deeply as possible.
Painting isn't difficult, but that doesn't mean it's not hard.
Having good people around you — people that truly want to help make your life better — is invaluable.
Sometimes, things come together in a way that seems beyond mere luck. Take full advantage of these opportunities.
A lesson from Dan, our neighbour: when something bad happens, it's possible to take charge, remain calm, and treat others with friendliness and courtesy — even if you're irritated.
Making a house a home is a never-ending process.
