Are we there yet?

 It's your bi-annual update. The minutes of Dom's recovery for investor's of a heart kind.

The 7th anniversary of Dominic's transplant, considered a re-birthday in transplant circles, came and went on Thanksgiving day this year. How apt.

I anticipated the day, and then it completely slipped my mind as I ate copious amounts of delicious food. On the day of thanks, one of the things I am most thankful for slipped my mind. I blame the pumpkin pie cheesecake. Not the tryptophan as I do not eat turkey.

One thing that weighed on me as the day approached is how grateful I am not just for Dom's extended life, but for all the love that was showered on us, and all the practical gifts of financial aid and the handful of people who made food for us. I found myself randomly composing thank you notes in my head these past few weeks. It's been over seven years now, but the impact lasts a lifetime.

This year hit a little different. We lost Dominic's mum in October, which is also the month we lost his sister in law Alison, just two years before. Dom did not have the energy to make a trip overseas for her service. That reality was something we'd talked through long before we lost her. We are grateful for the wonders of modern technology which allowed him to have conversations with his brother in the UK and sister in Qatar at the same time. It was so lovely hearing everyone, including Sam's husband Phil and Nick's daughter Hannah chatting and sharing stories about Ma and about moving forward.

So, it's not really that the anniversary slipped my mind; it's really that the days have been flying by. I always stop looking at numeric calendar days around Thanksgiving, just knowing, I have to be ready for a feast by the fourth Thursday of the month. And we were very ready this year.

My little reports in June are always full of so much anxiety for the fire season ahead, and come November, (now December), we've had rain, the brown fields have turned green, and the venomous snakes have mostly gone into hibernation. We celebrate giving thanks and fill the house with twinkly lights. It's my favorite time of year. It always goes by too fast. I try so hard to just sit in the season, and let it all soak in.

We're still in the June of Dom's recovery. Every 3 weeks, we go for his treatment and tests, and adjustments are made and there's talk of more frequent treatments and different therapies. I log onto his on line medical records and scan the test results. I live in anxiety that the protein count that indicates how his kidneys are functioning will have bolted again. There's been threats of putting him on a regime that would require weekly visits again, and I fret. I don't think I can do that again.

I'd find a way, if I had to.

But, we're ready for the post rainy season. We're ready for Dom's recovery to be that once a year visit Dr Carroll thought we'd transition to by now. We're well past that period. We're ready, but not there. 

So we continue to do what we can. Someone once said to me if her husband wouldn't do all the social things she loves to do, she didn't know if her marriage would last. What you do is, you adapt. You bend and flow. There's nothing I want to do without Dom at my side. We don't really feel like we're missing out, we're living to the fullest as we're able. And, I'm so grateful for the friends who have bent and adapted with us. It's such a tremendous thing to be so cared for.

And to be able to do it here, on the secluded property where we live, in beautiful Sonoma County, is a wonderful thing. 

We had a lovely visit with friends from Georgia in October. We have comfy outdoor furniture and amazing views and just enjoyed the time together. That visit was followed by my brother and his wife. We'd worked so hard to get the barn space ready for the first visit, it was a breeze by the next. (And our first visitors did a lot of the heavy lifting for me). Then Charlie, who owns our home, came for a visit and we had a gathering to celebrate his daughter's birthday and catch up. 

It's the most company we've had since Covid hit. With his compromised system, we're still very protective against viruses. We're generally open to visits on pleasant days, as we can sit outside and feel a bit safer.

Dominic is still extremely fatigued. He can do things throughout the day, but they're done slowly and with naps. I realized just today that I've had a weensy bit more energy. When we came home after the three month hospital visit, I was a mess. I needed daily naps as if I were the one getting treatment. But, the all night beeps and the worry and the driving were more than a full time job. It's nice to feel a little better. Dom feels a little better as well, but, the reality is, a little better is still not well.

We've made it through another "fire season". The last month of summer and first month of Autumn, we're on pins and needles. When the 2017 fire burned my Mom's house to the ground, it shocked me how little there was left. I've seen house fires here and there. Sometimes, you can't even tell there is damage, except some windows are boarded up, or there's a black singe on a wall. Sometimes, there's a big black hole, but the rest of the house looks pretty intact. I'd never seen the likes of what happened in 2017. What remained of her home was a pile of ash and a shower stall. On a bad day, that feels like what remains here as well. Maybe, if he'd only had Leukemia, he'd look like that house a little boarded up, but mostly intact. This gvhd has been a house fire that has been all consuming.

But Phoenix rise from ashes, not boarded up windows. 

So Dom is returning to himself little by little. He's been drawing every day. He made charcoal to sketch with. He questioned if it would be okay to have a fire after it rained a solid week with absolutely no let up. They call it a bomb cyclone these days. It results in an "atmospheric river" that means a lot of water is dropping in a short amount of time. I breathed a sigh of relief and proclaimed it certainly would be okay if he made a fire outside. I'm thinking a few more this season, just to mix it up. We can unplug from Netflix and bundle up with with the view. 

He's still shepherding the chickens from our ever present bobcats, coyotes, and sly foxes. We love our silly girls and love for them to find slugs and snails amongst the garden areas.

We got a hot tip from a friend that the Northern Lights would possibly make an appearance, so having missed them the first go round, we hopped in the car and made the journey about an hour north and we ticked something off the bucket list. It was such a treat to see them. Perhaps they weren't as dramatic as further north, but they were here and they were mine.

So, we're doing alright. We're on a journey we never thought we'd be on. We also never thought we'd see the Northern Lights all the way down here. But here we are. Taking things as they come and cherishing what is good.

PS: The wonky pool table is open for non-serious pool. 

And this kitty is open for scratches if he's not recovering from a big hunt.