Transplant Day!

Today is day zero. 
Today we start life over. 
I woke up this morning feeling a strange level of excitement.  It was masked under a heavy cloak of anxiety, but hidden in the bottom of my mess of emotions was a tiny sliver of excitement at the hope today is bringing.  I got a large tray of cookies and a candle of the number zero to celebrate Willie's new birthday.  We will give them to the doctors and nurses when they come around. 
When I arrived this morning Willie was feeling nauseous and had just thrown up.  His upper lip is really swollen and he said he is starting to feel his mouth swell. The nurses were running late with his anti nausea medication this morning which landed him in that mess.  As soon as he got the IV Zofran he began feeling better and was able to go back to sleep. 
The nurse came in and informed us that his transplant will take place at 12:30 PM.  The donor cells will arrive in a bag that looks identical to a blood transfusion and he will take Benadryl before receiving the cells just like he does for any other transfusion. 
In essence, the transfusion is nothing more than receiving a bag of cells from someone else. It is the same process as receiving blood or platelets. They don't anticipate any reaction or any visible side effects from the cells today or many days from now. (and hopefully never!)
It's a funny process to consider.  There are no needles, no surgeons, no anesthetic, no stitches to be removed.  It is unlike anything that comes to mind when you hear the word transplant. The drudgery that lies ahead is not actually from the new cells, but from the chemo and radiation he had to receive to get ready for them.  It's the ultimate catch 22 because he had to first kill off all of his cells in order to accept the new ones, but in killing the old cells he will have to suffer the effects.  On the other hand, if they just gave him the new cells without killing the old, the new cells would kill him.
It brings a whole new meaning to the phrase "what doesn't kill you will make you stronger!"
This morning I watched a video on youtube that really spoke to me.  It was a good reminder that we are under the watchful care of a loving God.  This trial we are going through is simply some "pruning" arranged by the wise Gardner who knows that we must be clipped in order to grow.  I believe that with all my heart and know that we will come out of this stronger, wiser, healthier, and better looking!

His new cells arrived just after 12:30PM.  The middle Eastern doctor who works with Dr. Laport came in carrying the bag like a waitress with a loaded tray.
"Your new cells sir," she said with a crinkle smile in her eyes.
The nurse hooked up the cells in no time and soon the red fluid was travelling down the line.  The doctor and nurse watched as the stream of red cells entered his body.
"First cells in at 12:47 PM" the doctor stated and made some notes in the computer.
"This will take about an hour so you can go ahead and make yourself comfortable." She said.
We decided to watch a movie to keep us distracted from the emptying bag.
The nurse stayed and monitored his temperature and vitals during the first half hour then returned at the end. 
"Last cell in at 2:10 PM" she announced as she noted it in the computer.

"Congratulations Mr. Beavers," she said and we could feel her smile through the mask "You're a new man!"
"More like a new woman!" Willie corrected and we all laughed.
His donor cells came from a woman in her late 50's.  We learned today that she had them harvested through apheresis.  This is an easy way to collect the cells that involves her getting a shot daily for 4 days to boost her cell count then she sat at a machine for 4 hours to remove the stem cells form her blood.  As Will's body accepts her cells, he will take on her blood type, allergies and markers in her blood.  They warned us that if he is ever involved in a crime where his blood is part of the evidence, she will be the one to be found at fault.  If he was ever considering a life of crime, now is the time!
We lucked out on the allergies because her only allergies are to penicillin which is the same allergy Willie has.
He has been resting since the transplant.  The nurses came in with a birthday cake to sing to him, but he was sleeping so they said they hope to return soon.  There has been a lot of congratulations from workers on the floor.  They have really made the day special.
Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your prayers and words of encouragement today.  We were blown away by the amount of texts, emails and facebook messages we have received.  We are blessed to have such amazing people in our lives. 
Here's to a fabulous day 1!

Day -1. Transplant Tomorrow!

The Last Chemo Treatment EVER!

The Cytoxin treatments were uneventful.  He had his first dose on Saturday night and tolerated it well with no side effects.  Dr. Laport came to check in on Sunday afternoon.
"So you are telling me you had no nausea or pain from the chemo?" she asked in unbelief when Willie reported he felt fine.
She put her hands on her tiny hips and tilted her head sideways as she observed him.
"Wow!" she said, her eyes widening "You look great!" 
Everyone is required to wear yellow masks on the transplant floor at all times so we couldn't see anything but her eyes which showed her surprise.  I imagine she was smiling below the mask.
"You are the first patient I've had that experienced nothing from the Cytoxin, which is good.  The other good news is tonight you will receive your last dose of chemo EVER."  She said the last word with deep emphasis.
"I like the way that sounds," Willie said, smiling.
"You're going to do fine," Dr. Laport patted Willie on the leg "Judging by the way you have handled the chemo, you are going to handle everything well."
It was a good thing to hear.
Willie got his last dose of chemo EVER late last night and woke up feeling fine today.  He got a new roommate last night that was a much welcomed relief from the previous talkative roommate.  The new guy is a young Doctor in his mid 30's who only got diagnosed in August.  His sister was a perfect match so he went straight to transplant and he just got released from isolation.  He looked fantastic for only having the transplant 3 weeks ago.  He was exactly the inspiration we needed and he and Willie spent the day talking about their experiences.  I really enjoyed talking to his wife and we struck up an instant friendship. They got released late this afternoon and they are currently moving in a new roommate. 
This floor of the hospital is certainly busy!
Tomorrow is transplant day.  The drs refer to tomorrow as "day zero."  Every day after transplant is counted upward after that.  They also refer to this day as Willie's new birthday.  It is the day that he will be given a new shot at a cancer free life. 
We are most grateful to the donor today for her selfless gift to us.  She should have had the procedure done yesterday so we kept her in our thoughts and prayers that all went well and she is recovering quickly.  There are no words powerful enough to express our thanks to her.  She is literally giving Willie a new life. We are so blessed to live in a time of such great medical miracles that this procedure exists.   It boggles my mind that it is even possible to destroy one persons immune system and replace it with another.
That to me, that is magic.
Please keep Willie in your prayers tomorrow and if you feel so inclined, you can sing "Happy New Birthday" to him in your mind.

Cytoxin Begins

I called the hospital at 7:30 AM this morning, as instructed, and was told they would have a room for us before noon and that they would call me when it was ready. We packed up the apartment and moved everything to the cottage where I will be staying while Willie is inpatient. By 2 PM when we hadn't heard anything I called the hospital again and was told to come right now! It seems all hospitals find joy in making people wait for long amounts of time only to fly into overdrive!

We got checked into his room which he is currently sharing with an older guy who has been on the phone since we got here. He's a talker!

We will move to a private room on Wednesday which will be nice. Willie is currently getting a liter of IV fluid then they will start his chemo which is named Cytoxin. It bothers me that a toxic substance like chemo is arrogant enough to waltz around with the word "toxin" in its name. We already know its toxic! We could do without the reminder every time the nurses announce his Cytoxin is on the way.

The chemo infuses over 2 hours and he will get it tonight and tomorrow night. Monday he gets a day off from all treatments then the transplant is on Tuesday. 

I will update you all on Monday. 

Happy weekend to all!

Thank you for your prayers and encouragement this week. Every positive thought helps! 

The Award

The street set up outside of the apartment complex we're staying at is kind of ridiculous.  When you exit the complex you need to turn left, then right to get on the freeway.  There is an annoying barrier in the middle of the road so in order to go left you must drive a half mile down the road and take a U-turn on Easy Street.  I find irony in the fact that every morning we have the opportunity to take a ride down Easy Street, but instead we turn around and go back to the hospital!
No Easy Street for us!
Today Willie was feeling pretty good.  We had one of our favorite nurses at the cancer center who brightened the day with talk of dogs and football.  He slept most of the day between his radiation treatments.  When he finished his last treatment he came out holding a piece of paper that he handed to me. 
"Ooooo, fancy!" I said, as I looked at the printed award in my hands. 
"I know!" he said through his mask.
"Hey," Casey said from across the room "Do I get an award?"
"I guess so" Willie answered.
They were both wearing their filter masks so it sounded more like muffled barking than conversation.  Casey's eyes wrinkled in a smile under his mask.
"I hope I get one!" he said "see you guys tomorrow!"
We left the radiation center without a bit of sadness that this part is over.
"This is a fabulous award!" I said then read it out loud as we walked "Congratulations! Willie Beavers has completed the prescribed radiation therapy treatments with high honors in courage, determination, and good spirit."
Willie looked at the award as I read it then chimed in.
"It should say 'Congratulations, you are now a turkey pot pie since we've baked you in our giant microwave all week!"
That's too funny!  I'm still laughing about that.
I pointed out the Stanford logo on top of the award
"I'm going to frame this and hang it on the wall.  People will think its' a degree from Stanford!"
"They'll think I'm a doctor!" he said.
We had been walking during this conversation and ended up at the front check in desk for the radiation department.
"Congratulations!" the receptionist shouted "you are all done!"
She is a nice woman in her mid 40's with thinning hair that she carefully combs over.  Her smile is warm and I have noticed that her bright red lipstick never seems faded.  We have seen her three times a day for the whole week and she has started to feel like an old friend.
"Look at this," Willie said, motioning to the award "We're going to hang it on the wall, people will think I graduated from Stanford!"
She laughed.
 "You ARE graduating from Stanford!" she replied.  "Good luck with everything!"
"We'll see you later," Willie said as he turned the corner.
I paused and looked back at her "In all kindness, I hope we don't see you again" I joked.
She smiled "I hope I don't see you either!"
It's a running joke in the cancer departments that no one ever wants to return so a "see you later" response is never welcomed.  We usually hear "good luck with things" or something along those lines.
We got in the elevator and Willie heaved a huge sigh of relief.
"Well that's one part done." he said, and I smiled at him.
"One done!" I copied.
Tomorrow we check in to the hospital and he begins chemotherapy.  The way the check in is set up is so silly.  They gave me a phone number with instruction to call for his check in time.  I called the number today and was scolded for calling a day ahead.  The nurse told me that they will not know what bed will be available until tomorrow morning.  I was instructed to call back at 7:30 AM tomorrow and they will tell me what time to check in which could be anywhere between 9 AM and 4 PM.  I hung up feeling like I had just ordered cable, complete with the ridiculous time windows. 
It's incredibly disorganized for Stanford, I feel.
Thank you all for your positive thoughts and prayers for Willie this week.  They obviously worked as he is now playing a video game and requesting a snack!
Happy Friday!

New Friends and a Dead Battery

We made a new friend today.  His name is Casey and he is scheduled to have a bone marrow transplant the same day as Willie.  I noticed him on Monday when he came into the radiation waiting room.  He was wearing a pair of heavy, black, military boots that stood in stark contrast to his blue hospital gown.  He stands well over 6 feet tall and is as broad as he is tall.  I have watched him over the past few days and marveled at how the radiation has seemed to have no effect on him.  He whizzes into each appointment, pulling his carry-on bag of fluid behind him like it was invisible, then sits by himself and drums his fingers on his legs to a beat that only he can hear.
Tonight it was just he and I in the waiting room and I interrupted his finger drumming to ask him about himself.  He informed me that he is 22 years old, from the central valley and has been battling cancer for a year and a half now.  On his 21st birthday he got diagnosed with a cancerous tumor on his lung that led to radiation and chemotherapy.  The mass shrunk quickly and he had 6 months of complete remission last year before he developed 2 different kinds of leukemia. 
"I'm an overachiever," he said flatly "I didn't stop at one kind of cancer, I had to get 3."
I wasn't sure if it was mean to be funny, but I smiled back at him
"Well you must be excited about the transplant then.  It should be a cure for you!"
"Yeah," he shrugged "I've been on life support three times and I'm not even supposed to be alive now.  The way I see it, if the transplant works, it works, if it doesn't then it's over for me."
It was the saddest thing to hear.  I didn't know how to respond.
"Well at least it is hope." I said softly, but I think it was more to myself than to him.
"That's how my family is," he continued "they are all positive and say that it's going to work and that there is so much hope.  I don't know if Will feels the way I do, but me being the one with cancer, I don't really think that way.  I've heard the numbers and the realities and I know what can happen so we might as well be realistic."
He was wearing his filter mask which covered most of his face but his eyes; eyes that were far too sad for a 22 year old.
Willie came out and joined the rest of the conversation as we talked about the hospital and the plans to check in on Saturday.  He may end up being Will's roommate, we'll just have to wait and see.
As we walked out of the radiation clinic I filled Willie in on the conversation.  I told him about Casey's dismal feelings on the transplant and asked Willie if he felt the same.
"I've never been on life support," he said "I don't know how I would feel if I had been."
That's something I admire about Willie.  He is always careful to consider another persons circumstance in regard to their behavior.  Most of the time he helps me realize that I have never been in situations that most of the people I complain about are in so how can I judge?
"You know Casey has been dealing with cancer for almost two years," I said as we stepped into the elevator "When I hear stories like that it makes me think we have really been blessed that it's been such a short time for us."
"Yeah," he said "We are lucky."
It seems wrong to group cancer and luck in the same sentence, but we really have been lucky.  When all is said and done we will walk away from cancer after only one short year of mingling with it.  I will take that year with gratitude in contrast to the countless years some people deal with the awful disease.
We got in the car to drive home and decided to take the scenic route since last night we got stuck in rush hour traffic on our way home.  I stopped at the grocery store and Willie waited in the car.  When I got back in the car the engine wouldn't turn over. 
The battery was dead.
Worst.
Timing.
EVER!
I pulled out my phone and made two quick phone calls.  One to the car rental place, the other to a mechanic shop.  Both places closed in 10 minutes so I had to act fast to make sure it really was the battery that was the problem.
I went back into the store and asked the service desk if there was anyone who could help us.  The manager agreed to jump us from her own car.  We were parked with the front end next to a barrier so we needed to either move our car or move the car next to us.  The manager had the front desk page the owner of the car next to us and soon a dark haired Asian lady came running out.
"What happen to car?" she asked in heavy accented English.
"Nothing is wrong," the manager assured, "We just need you to move your car so I can help this lady jump her car."
She just stared at us, clearly not understanding.
"My car is broken," I said motioning "It does not drive."
"Oh...." she nodded, "But what wrong my car.  It get hit?"
"No, " the manager said, patiently "your car is fine, we just need you to move it or allow her to use your battery to jump her car."
She stared back at us blankly until the manager started using hand motions
"I need you to park your car there," she said making hand motions for driving and pointing across the lot to an open space.
"Ok,"she said back "my car ok?"
"Yes," we said back in unison, then she got in her car and moved.
The manager parked her car and hooked up the cables and our car started right up.
What a relief!
And what an awesome manager.  I can highly recommend the outstanding service we received at Whole Foods Market in Palo Alto.  It is the place to go for all your organic food and dead battery needs!
Willie is feeling pretty good today.  The nausea meds keep him pretty sleepy so he slept most of the day, but at least he wasn't feeling yucky.  He ate a muffin and some soup today which both felt like a victory for me.
Only one more day of radiation!
Goodnight all.

(Sorry no picture today.  For some reason it won't let me upload any tonight!)

A MUCH Better Day!

Today was a MUCH better day.  Willie slept through the night after we doped him up on anti-nausea meds.  He woke up this morning still feeling nauseous and dry heaved all the way to the hospital.  We were lucky to have the same nurse as yesterday so she got right to work getting him some medication.  I knew he was feeling better when he opened his eyes and looked across the room at me.  He pointed at his foot and shook it twice which is his way of asking for a foot rub.  I smiled at him moved my chair closer to rub his foot.  He smiled and closed his eyes, obviously pleased with himself for his clever communication. 
I spent the day sitting at the end of his bed occasionally rubbing his feet whenever he would wake up and shake his foot in demand.  He had three radiation treatments spaced 4 hours apart so we would go downstairs for his 8 minute treatment then come back up to the cancer center and wait the 4 hours.  He spent most of the time sleeping as he is feeling exhausted.
I knew he was really feeling better when he asked for some french fries.  We stopped on the way home and got him some.  He ate each fry like it was the last one on the planet.  So far they have stayed down just fine and he is sleeping again. 
That's all the updates for the day. 
Short and sweet. 
That's so unlike me!

Off to a Rocky Start

Last Friday I got a call from Dr. Laport, Willie's transplant doctor.
"I thought you are on vacation!" I said, after we said hello.
"I am," she said with a laugh "but I had to call you personally because I actually have good news this time!"
"Impossible!" I teased, although it is true she has been the bearer of bad news in recent months.
"We got the results from Willie's liver biopsy and everything looks perfect!  There is no scarring or tissue damage so it confirms that his numbers are high due to fatty liver."
I heaved a sigh of relief into the phone.  It was fantastic news!
"We'll go ahead with our planned schedule then and I'll see you guys next Wednesday!"
We said our goodbyes and I hung up, but not before another small wave of panic hit me.  I only had two days left at home. The time was going by too quickly.
We started to pack on Saturday afternoon, but hadn't made it very far by Sunday afternoon.  We had Willie's family and friends over for lunch and had a great time talking and laughing.  It was a recharge for our batteries that we were both happy to have.  Our plan was to leave for Stanford by 3-4PM on Sunday.  We didn't leave until 9 PM!  Willie just didn't want to go!
We got to our apartment at Stanford about 1:00 AM on Monday morning and had to be at the hospital at 7 AM.  Needless to say, we were both sleepy for his first appointment. 

Waiting for treament to begin

We had no idea what was planned for the day when we showed up at the cancer center.  His nurse started him on IV fluids and gave him some IV Zofran for nausea.  We have been warned that radiation can cause vomiting so they get try to stay ahead of the game with the meds.  At 8:30 we were sent downstairs for his first radiation treatment. 
The hallway down to the radiation department is long and cold.  It is on the bottom floor of the cancer center and passes by a series of windows that are covered half way by concrete stairs.  We were instructed to enter the only door on the left side of the hall.  When we entered it was a different world.  It looked looked like a lobby from a classy hotel with waist high banisters surrounding the room and calming colors of carpet and paint.  The chairs are set up around the perimeter of the room leaving every patient in the awkward position of trying to avoid eye contact with other patients.  Several people in the room were wearing hospital gowns and a nurse came out and instructed Willie to join them in gown wearing. She showed him to changing room and he came out a few minutes later in an open back gown.
A few minutes later he was taken back to the radiation room and I waited on pins and needles.  A woman came in with a soft pink hat covering her balding head.  She removed the hat and began fanning herself.  Moments later another woman entered with a shaved head and tired eyes.  Her feet were covered in cozy pink socks and tiny pink ribbons that gave away her fight with breast cancer.  There was no talking in the room, everyone kept silently to themselves.
Suddenly the door opened and an older woman entered with a flurry of movement and noise.  She plunked her purse on the seat next to me and sat down with a loud sigh.
"I'm so sick of cancer!" she announced to the room.
I watched as every eye in the room looked up cautiously toward the woman.  Several heads nodded and the woman in the pink socks laughed softly.
"My husband is getting radiation," she kept talking as if everyone had an interest in her story "I can tell you this, if I was getting radiation I wouldn't be nearly as angry as my husband is."
She paused to see if anyone was listening.  Most of  the eyes in the room were now buried in magazines.  Only the pink sock lady and I remained her targets.
"Can you believe he didn't like what I am wearing today, but I told him I don't care, it's the only thing I have clean!" she nudged me as she said this and I turned to look at her.
I had to stifle a laugh as I took in the full absurdity of her outfit.  She wore a heavy brown overcoat that is better suited for someone working construction, under that peaked out a neon green shirt with some writing and pictures on it that suggested it came from the juniors department at Walmart.  Her pants were an over sized pair of camo print with giant cargo pockets that could hold a medium sized cat.  She topped this all off with a multicolored hat that blended well with her outrageous eye makeup. 
She was a prize to behold.
"Yeah, cancer sucks..." she said again, this time to me "but you wouldn't understand that, you're too young!"
I stared back at her, but said nothing.  I didn't even know where to begin to respond to such an attack.
I wish I didn't understand cancer. 
I wish age qualified someone to be affected by the terrible disease. 
I wish I was too young.
"But you've got a pretty purse," she said, after a moment of silence "I like the way it shines." She pointed to the rhinestones on the outside of my purse and smiled at me like we were old friends.  Apparently if I can't understand cancer, at least I can have a pretty purse!
It was a stupid exchange, but it put me on edge.  When the nurse called my name I jumped out of my chair and nearly ran to the door.  Willie wasn't with her and I felt a bit of panic. 
"The nurse is waiting to meet with you and Willie." she said, as she lead me to an examination room.
"Is everything OK?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.
"Yes," she replied "this is what happens on the first day of radiation."
I relaxed a bit when I saw Willie sitting on a chair and looking the same he had when he left.  I don't know what I had expected from radiation, but the images in my mind were far worse than the reality.
"Did you feel anything?" I asked as I sat down.
"No," he shrugged "just my feet got tired from standing still so long."
We met with the nurse to discuss the plan for the week.  He will have New Year's Day off from treatments then receive 3 treatments on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday before being admitted on Saturday to start receiving chemo.

The carry on bag of water

We went back up to the cancer center after our meeting and met with the home health nurse.  He was a pleasant man of Asian decent with a jolly smile and an affinity for hearing himself talk.  He explained that Willie will be receiving continous IV fluids during the radiation treatment.  This means he will be receiving the IV when we go home.  He pulled out a 4 liter bag of water and set it on the table.  It was quite the sight.  He explained that Willie will get one of those bags infused every 27 hours.  He showed me how to work the pump then connected Willie to the IV and placed the bag in a black bag with wheels that looks like carry on luggage. 
It was about 11 AM by this time and Willie was starving.  We had ordered food long before that time, but it was yet to be seen.  The tray of food finally arrived around 11:45, but Willie was nauseous by that time.  He tried sipping water and eating crackers, but it didn't help.  He was still queasy at 1 PM when it was time for his next treatment.  The nurse got him a wheelchair and kicked us out to radiation, handing him a pink bucket for the road.
We made it out into the atrium before he threw up.  Willie doesn't do anything quietly and his retching noise is horrifyingly loud.  The sound echoed around the open hallways as he heaved over and over again.  Tears came to my eyes as I watched him bent over in pain. 
I have only seen him throw up a few times in our years together.  The first time he was sick was when we had been dating about a year.  I was living in Sacramento and had come up to Willows to visit for the weekend.  We had gone out to dinner and were watching a movie when he suddenly announced he was going to throw up and ran to the bathroom.  That was the first time I met his beastly grunt of a throw up noise.  It was as if all the walls in the house were shaking from the echo of his retch.  I recall sitting on the couch and staring straight forward in shock.  I didn't know how to respond.  I had heard time and again that in order to know if someone you are dating is the one, you must first see each other when you are ill. This was advice passed from one lovestruck teenager to another. I recall the explanation being that you must see your partner sick in order to see if your love could endure the illness.  If you still loved them afterward then it was meant to be!   Now I feel like that is the most ridiculous advice of all time, but at that moment on his couch the words echoed in my head and I flew into action in hopes of this illness being the confirmation of our destiny. 
Apparently the marriage advice worked for us.  I spent that weekend nursing him through a 24 hour flu and 2 short years later we were married....!
It took a few moments for the echo to leave the atrium when he finished throwing up. When all was silent he handed me the bucket and said
"Let's go."
I handed the bucket to a passing nurse and we continued downstairs.  He handled the second treatment well and we met afterward with the radiation doctor.  We told her about his throwing up and she assured us that unfortunately that is going to happen.
"I guess this means it's working though," Willie said, looking on the bright side.
Her laugh was unexpected as she was caught off guard by his remark
"I guess that's one way to look at it! They definitely turned the beam on!"
We went back up to the cancer center and the doctor and nurse were waiting in his room to discuss the throw up incident.  I was impressed at the speed and interest everyone was taking in Willie.  The Doctor wrote Willie a prescription for Zofran to take at home and we left for the day.
Last night was rocky. 
Willie threw up several times and hasn't kept anything down yet today.  We went back to the cancer center this afternoon and the same doctor from yesterday came to check in.  We told him about the constant heaving and he responded quickly


Snoozing in the apartment with his suitcase of water

"It's time for the big dogs then," he said "I will order you some IV treatments that should knock this out.  You'll get one today and one for the next two days."
We both smiled and thanked him and soon the IV began.
Our hopes were high that the results would be immediate, but 2 hours later Willie was still sitting on the side of the bed with a trash can in his lap.  He was still feeling quesy, but hasn't thrown up since and he is now sleeping on the couch so I'm hoping he will wake up with some relief from the nausea. 
I think we have learned in one short day that radiation is ALOT worse than chemotherapy.  We could use some prayers for the rest of the week.  I'm praying that he can make it through the rest of the treatments and that the doctors who work with him will be inspired on how they can best help him.  We are still in good spirits and I admire Willie's attitude in the face of trial.  He is stronger than cancer and will grit his teeth and see this through.
Happy New Year!!! 
We are looking forward to a year of adventure and healing!