Thursday, May 16, 2013

One Year Later


One year ago today our world was changed forever. 
I remember the day in vivid detail as if it were yesterday.  Time drifted by at a glacial pace as we were quarantined in Enloe hospital anxiously awaiting the results from Willie's first bone marrow biopsy.  We were both exhausted.  The 2 days previous had been filled with countless doctors, a battery of tests, uncomfortable hospital beds and an underlying fear that prohibited either of us from relaxing.  I hadn't washed my face or changed from my black and white striped shirt from the moment we had arrived at the hospital. 
At lunch time I left the room momentarily to get some food at the cafeteria in the basement of the hospital.  A woman ahead of me in line kept glancing back with concern and asked if I was OK.  I forced a smile and nodded.
"I'm fine." I lied.
She smiled softly and we stood in silence for a moment. 
"Things will get better." She said, touching my shoulder with a caring hand. 
I nodded and smiled back at her with an expression that probably looked more like a grimace.  I didn't see how anything could get any better.
I knew in that moment that my husband had Leukemia.
He didn't know it yet, but I did.
I had known for a week after doing endless research on his symptoms and lab work.  It was a dark, nagging feeling that spawned from the depth of my core.  I wanted more than anything to be wrong, but I knew in my heart that I wasn't. 
I caught my reflection in the elevator mirror on the way back up to his room.  My eyes were hollow, eye makeup smeared, hair in a ratted mess and the trail marks of tears were evident in my worn makeup.  I looked like a train wreck!  It was no wonder the woman in the cafeteria was so worried about me.
I pulled my hair into a pony tail and wiped the makeup from my eyes with the tail of my shirt, before stepping off the elevator.  Willie was in one of two isolation rooms that had an attached foyer with a hand sink in it.  I entered the first door and carefully washed my hands.  The door to the neighboring room was wide open revealing a Hispanic family gathered around their aging father who lay motionless in the bed.  Their eyes held the same hollow pain that I had witnessed in my own, yet I knew their journey had been a very long one. 
My eyes caught those of an older woman who held the hand of the sick man.  I forced a small smile of empathy, but she returned nothing.  I lowered my eyes in respect and pushed the door open to our room.  I was shaken to the core, as if I was witnessing our future.
And I wanted no part of it.
It was only a few hours after that when Dr. Lombardi dropped the bomb of a Leukemia diagnosis.  We processed the news together for a few hours as I sobbed from a place in my soul that I didn't know existed.  I felt there wasn't enough tears to soften the blow that we had been dealt.
In the evening hours I stepped outside to call my family.  The sun was setting behind the hospital tower and I recall the long shadows that crawled across the parking lot.  I stood in the shadow of one of the towers and felt engulfed by it's darkness.
"Mom?" I shouted into the phone when she answered.
"Hi sweetie." She said brightly.
"Mom, it's leukemia." I sobbed.  "Willie has leukemia."
I screamed the news between sobs that I didn't even try to stifle.  I felt like an inconsolable child in the midst of tantrum, except there was nothing that could be done to make things better.
The other line was silent as I gasped for air.
"Moosie." Mom said firmly, using my childhood nickname.  "We're going to get through this." Her voice was fierce with conviction.
"I don't know if I can do it." I admitted.
"You will do it." She assured.
I cried some more.
"Moosie, what is the worst thing that can happen?" She asked.
"He could die Mom!" I shouted.
"Yes honey, he could die.  And then what?"
"Then I'd be alone."
"And do you believe you'd see him again?"
I stopped pacing around the parking lot and looked up to the sky.  A feeling of peace filled my soul as I was reminded of this truth.  I know there is a life after this one and I know we will be able to see our loved ones again.  This perspective takes the fear and pain out of death.
"Yes." I breathed through my tears.  "I do know I will see him again if he dies, but I don't want him to die."
"None of us want him to die honey and I don't think he will, but it's good to address the worst case scenario so we can move forward with hope."
I nodded my response knowing full well that she couldn't hear it through the phone.
She was right, and the reminder made me feel much better.
I walked across the parking lot and stood in the last rays of light that peaked around the tower.  The evening heat tickled my skin and I held my hands out at my sides as I welcomed the warmth that filled my soul.  It was as if the solar energy was recharging my warn batteries and I could feel my fire rekindling inside.
I stared the hospital with renewed determination. 
We would face this cancer and we would win. 

And win we did!
Today we look back at the past year with gratitude.  We have learned more from walking through the fire of cancer then we could have learned in a lifetime of experiences.  I have cherished every moment I have been able to spend with my husband and I'm most grateful for the amazing support from family and friends that have made it possible for us to be together.  We have been blessed so deeply that I stand in awe at the kindness that has been shown to us.  Most importantly I am grateful to a loving God who has perfectly orchestrated all of this for us. 
There are no words to express our complete gratitude.
Thank you will never be enough.

Willie is doing fantastic!  We have had two follow up appointments at Stanford with Dr. Laport and both appointments have been uneventful.  Yesterday we drove 3 hours to Stanford just to see the doctor for 10 minutes!  It was a 6 hour round trip for her to confirm that he is doing as well as he feels and tell us to come back in 3 weeks. 
The drive is never a burden though, as we are happy to give up that time in order to consult with the best doctors on the planet. 

Life is good.
I started to work again at our nutrition store and Willie has been helping out at the gym.  His doctor cleared him to start lifting weights again so he has been slowly starting back.  I watched him bench press 150 lbs the other night like it was nothing.  I find it funny that in my wildest dreams I could never bench that much and he is doing it easily after having a bone marrow transplant!  It's fantastic!

Thank you all for your love, prayers, donations, thoughts and support.  We are so very, very grateful.  I'll still update the blog occasionally, but I'm dedicating my time now to writing a book about our adventure!
And what a wild ride it has been!



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