Two Thirds

 It's that time of year again. 

I get more pensive. Maybe tear up a little more easily. I count blessings and I count sheep.

Dom and I were married on a May 15 and we went to the ER on a June 15, so each wedding anniversary anticipates a less celebratory anniversary. It was 9 years this past May and 6 years this past June. A full 2/3 of our married life has been spent navigating a path we didn't mean to take. I may have packed my life differently had I known this is the path we'd be on. But life, like a wildfire doesn't always give you time to pack. Sometimes you just run. I think I'm still running. And I am un-apologetically oh so tired.

When we were essentially living at the hospital, I watched a favorite show on repeat. I would fall asleep to Father Brown and sometimes a nurse would just ever so quietly close my laptop. I really appreciated the nurses who would get in my business that way. As I was anticipating this anniversary I was also anticipating a new season of this show that is now intrinsically tied to our journey. The show is loosely based on novels by GK Chesterton. He's a crime solving Father. I love crime shows because they have tidy endings. I particularly love Father B, as Dom calls him, because he shows so much compassion throughout his interactions. And of course, the setting in the Cotswolds is cozy and comforting. We started the new season last night and I am delighted. I'm even slightly nostalgic for the camaraderie of all the nurses and how well we cocooned in our room and were cared for.

I get particularly nostalgic at this time for all the goodness shown to us and think of all of you who decided to hop on the path with us as far as you could. There are stories of generosity that just resonate with me and give me hope beyond the immediate provision.

Here's the Christmas card part of the annual update. Nothing much has changed since our last update! 

Dom continues his photo-pheresis treatment every other week. It's about a 3 hour process intended to reset his immune system. His system is still in chaos. His kidneys have been attacked for nearly 3 years now and he's been on steroids all that time. That's not good for the body. And Dom and I will both tell you, high doses of steroids can be very challenging for an already stressed married couple. If we're honest. But we keep chipping away at our egos and resolve all steroid infused trials with lots of love. In addition to the 3 hour treatment, he occasionally needs another infusion of IGG since his body currently struggles to make it. Those days can stretch to 14 hours with a doctor visit in between and with driving.

When we're not being road warriors to and from the hospital, we putter. I mean, work. It's never ending on the property. It was a very wet winter. Water, water everywhere, but not a drop for me. We lost power over a dozen times over the past year, and as many of you know, that means no running water as well because well, we're on a well. And speaking of the well, the holding tank and pump also had to be replaced to really sharpen my bucket carrying skills. Half a dozen trees came down over the year. We were quite fortunate when the large oak came down across the driveway, our friend was here and between the three of us, we were able to make the drive passable for the other tenants. That's pretty much the way things are around here. We fumble along and things work out.

            The reason I can't get my ducks in a row is because they are chickens.

 

We've become chicken shepherds. Our girls have a nice house and run, but we like them to have more space to have dust baths and roam. We'll give them some free time and watch over them because we have some very persistent bobcats in the neighborhood. It's also a great time in the afternoon to just enjoy being outside. (Who am I kidding, Dom is the better shepherd.) One bonus to having the chickens, outside of their beautiful Easter eggs, is the bakery around the corner from where we purchase their food. It has many gluten free offerings, so we will make an event of picking up chick food. And for people who are buried in limitation, digging out even just for a pastry is an awesome thing.

It's continued to be a pretty isolating time for us. While the world has moved on from Covid, we continue precautions, because we just don't need another battle here. As an over-thinker, I grapple with being understood. Covid and all the drama it has conjured both real and imagined is definitely another layer of the onion for a girl who grew up loathing onions. (To be fair, I grew up pretty poor eating liver and onions my mother made trying to get some healthy food in me and I'm sure I'm scarred for life. If you enjoy liver and onions, I will put my finger in my ears and sing la la la if you try to tell me.)

My memory on social media last week, from six years ago, was that I was subbing at a yoga studio where I was offered a job to teach regularly just that week. That was definitely a bittersweet memory. I've had a complicated relationship with yoga since then, and since the Covid outbreak. It was my long sought after career. I continue to wonder what I will be when I grow up.

Which brings me to another regular thought. What do we have to offer now that everything has been taken from us? We both had high hopes of volunteering to help others along the journey and have been so flattened, even that feels a long way off. But, as we were saying goodbye to the nurses the other afternoon, one of them reminded Dominic that she loves to take care of him. "Dominic," she says in her thick Russian accent, "the bad news is I have to poke you today. The good news is I'm your nurse." She asks to work on the days he is scheduled so she will be his nurse. Dominic is so easy and good-natured, he makes her work light and easy. And I had to be okay with maybe that is all we have to offer right now. Maybe when I grow up, I will just be kind.

If you'd asked me six years ago where we'd be, I would have thought back on track with a minor setback. I just couldn't imagine we'd still be talking about punk rock music with our doctor every other week or swallowing handfuls of pills. I didn't think for a moment I'd still be logging onto myhealthonline and watching his blood counts, his liver counts, his kidney counts. I didn't think I'd be explaining to a nurse that indeed, chickens can lay eggs without roosters, they just wouldn't be fertilized. I didn't think there was this limbo land between life and death. I didn't realize that a cure did not mean a clean slate. I didn't realize that celebration goes hand in hand with unvarnished truth: everyone has a hill to climb; this event turned our 45 degree angle climb through life into something approximating 88 degrees, nearly straight up. It's tough slogging. 

 

As I type, Houdini the escape artist stray kitty is sleeping next to me. Like the cancer, this little fella came out of no where. But, he brings life. He's been here for two years this month and we are smitten. We didn't need another cat. But here he is, bringing us unexpected joy. If you're not a yapping dog, he wants to know you. We caught him getting acquainted with a doe the other day. They were nose to nose, he on his haunches reaching up with his paw. Dom and I stand like two goofballs at the window just watching Bambi scenes unfold. I didn't know how much joy he'd bring.

Lots of unexpected things in life can bring joy. When Houdini showed up, I was a little bummed. My next cat was for sure going to be a Siamese. I love Siamese. I love their coloring. I had one with crossed eyes and I wanted that again. And I complained to a friend that everything just happened to me and why couldn't a Siamese cat show up on my porch instead of a Tabby? But, Houdini is magic and he's been teaching me a bigger lesson on accepting what is and finding joy in the moments. 

And we have lots of moments here. 

We're so grateful for the handful of folks who have made a special visit. We can't go out to dinner or do fancy things, but we have amazing views and some outdoor seating and wineglasses and a really cool cat.