The Bronze Age

 As families in the U.S. gather to celebrate Thanksgiving today, I'm reflecting on the 8 year anniversary (tomorrow), of Dom's transplant. Or, his re-birthday, as it were. 

And we are so thankful.

Eight years ago, we spent our Thanksgiving with hospital staff, as Dom was being prepped for the life-saving and life-altering event of someone else's stem cells being dripped into his veins.

Bronze is the traditional gift of 8 years of marriage. It is stronger than both iron and copper, the gifts of the two previous years. (How I wish I'd asked for copper cookware on our 7th anniversary!). So, on this 8 year anniversary for Dom with his new stem cells, I wish him the strength of bronze; stronger than the 2 years prior put together.

It's been an eventful year medically.

In May, we heard rumor his doctor who had been with him through the entire 8 year journey was set to retire. Indeed, in June, we had our last visit. It was a sad farewell. He expressed to us that we felt like family. In truth, we did see more of him than our own families, (with the exception of my dear mom.) We always had a lovely visit and a good laugh when we saw him every 2-3 weeks.

His departure coincided with the approval of a new drug treatment for gvhd. So, the new doctor was eager for a whole new protocol. Our first visit was a flurry of questions and information. Dr. Kiwan is from Lebanon and retains a lovely accent. Which, combined with the tenor of his voice and the amount of information he presents kind of left us like 

He asked how far away various hospitals were, and the answer was always, the traffic would kill us. He'd inherited most of Dr. Carrol's patients, and was probably doing a little house cleaning. He also understood it's been a very long haul for us. He discussed the new treatment option and we agreed to a new plan. The irony is, the new treatment was actually something tried for Covid patients; monoclonal antibodies. It did not work for Covid, but we're hopeful it will work for Dominic. (The irony being, Covid has changed our lives almost as much as the initial cancer.)

We've been in a flurry since June. Dr Kiwan connected us with a local Nephrologist to oversee Dom's kidney function. The gvhd has been pummeling the kidneys. Then he set us up with a local oncologist who oversees the new treatment. Did I mention it's local? Did I mention that?! IT'S LOCAL! After 8 plus years of driving to Sacramento at least once a month, if not twice or more; (that's almost 4 hours round trip), we are just down the road. We get a 3 month hiatus from Sacramento. Dr. Kiwan has deftly handled the situation.

Dom has 3 treatments under his belt. We met with a nurse beforehand who talked us through the whole process, which is yet another infusion. Dominic did have infusions through Dr. Carroll earlier in the year, so we sort of knew our way around. The whole process takes about 3 hours. He feels fine after, but by the third day, he feels like he has the flu. This is common. With that knowledge, we planned for an early Thanksgiving, as today marks flu day; and right on target, he did wake up under the weather.

And, not to be outdone by Dom, this year also marks the year that I got serious about my own health. I will spare you the details, but I have never had to juggle so many appointments in my life. I've had my own minor surgeries and dread. I'm okay today, but there were questions and what-ifs along the way. We had one more minor surgery in our household. We've had a second dumped cat appear. I think I've shared about him in my last post. Unlike Houdini, this cat is a bit more feral. I spent several months befriending him. And then I betrayed him. I've had him neutered, just in case someone dumps a female cat down the road. I may have damaged our relationship forever; but, I felt like it was the right thing to do. 

There's also been a lot going on where we live. The property is in flux, and we're trying to go with the flow.

But, speaking of the property; we are so blessed to live here. People measure success in different ways. I am not successful by most people's standards. But, yesterday, I walked down the driveway and noticed the polo ponies being rounded up on the property semi adjacent. I stood there and watched all the beautiful horses line up and thought how lucky I am to be surrounded by such beauty. 

We watched a beautifully spotted bobcat skulk across the back field yesterday. The fields are turning green again I rescue newts from the pool after a big rain. 

The very large house next to us sits empty, in limbo as I stuff my wee home to the gills with nostalgia and comfort. Some would only see clutter and dust; but my people see the heart; the two people bumbling along tougher in unusual circumstances making it work the best way they know how. Thankful today and every day.

The Winds of Change?

The wind was howling last night. I'd fallen asleep early, like any good stodgy 40 something year old should do on New Year's Eve. The air always feels different to me on this once a year day. Though I resist the notion that the day is any different than the other 364, resistance alone says this day is different.  I don't make resolutions. I don't come up with a word. I don't know why not. I just don't.
Well. I do know why not. Because life happens in ways we cannot predict. I know now better than ever that any resolution I made on the eve of 2017 or 2018 would be miniscule in the face of the resolve I would have to muster to just exist.
I was grumpy last night. Out of sorts. I'm struggling to transition from Red Alert to hopeful.
The wind howled.
I'd put some of Christmas away yesterday, and it sat in bins on the back porch just outside the bedroom. I wondered if I'd snapped the lids, or if three generations of ornaments and ephemera would be flying through the field behind our house.
I'd remarked earlier how we'd spent last New Year's Eve in the apartment beneath elephants wearing cement shoes. We thought we were safe as we nestled asleep by ten. Only to be awakened when the bars closed and the elephants came home and trumpeted through the night and almost up until our doctor's appointment at 8 am.
I thought this year would be different. On so many levels.
But the wind howled.
Someone suggested yesterday, as I closed the year with an afternoon yoga class, that we not spend our last hours of 2018 pressing early into 2019, but that we look back over the year and acknowledge our accomplishments.
I survived?

I listed my accomplishments over dinner, but they came out more as frantic arm waving.
How does one quantify the accomplishment of spending the greater part of two years in a hell not of one's own making? And surviving.

I'm so shortsighted as a person though.
There just didn't seem to be enough time in December. I had it planned one way, and then some things came up and I spent a great deal of time doing things I did not expect to be doing. You'd think after 18 months being on the crazy roller coaster schedule we have been on that I'd roll with it. But, I spent most of December feeling a frenzy. Feeling like I couldn't do it all. Feeling defeated. When will I learn that life is all the days before and all the days after that one moment? I would tease people when they'd ask how are you in the thick of our crisis. "Living the dream," I'd say, Dominic in a hospital bed and me heartbroken for him. It was a sarcastic stab at humor. But it was more than that. It was truth. He and I had had many happy moments before, and will have many to come. Things may be difficult, our struggle may be extra, but we're not limited to living in the worst of those difficult moments. Tomorrow is here.

A friend gave me daffodil bulbs.  The first flowers of spring, I heard. They are my birthday flower. When I see the daffodil, I know both that spring is coming, and that I am older. But the daffodil is magic. I don't feel older. It doesn't bring with it the baggage of aging that humans have built an industry around resisting. It simply affirms to me that I exist. It speaks to me that there is beauty. There is spring. There is hope.
Wikipedia says the narcissus has conspicuous flowers.
If I must be conspicuous in anything, I should hope I could be as affirming and magical as a flower.

I'm sitting with my back pressed against the wall heater. Dominic is still sleeping, still mending. We're both on bridges right now. He's coming back to life. What has he accomplished in 2018? Basically, a life time.  He reverted to a sort of infancy in the ravages of the disease and has fought his way back to standing on his own. It takes newborns several years to accomplish what he has in 5 months. He has walked down our little hill to the car and back to the house and uses only a cane in the house now. He's very hopeful for the year. He's eager to work and travel.

I'm not there yet.

Aside of the fact that I'm a home body, we were away from home nearly 6 months just this year, the idea of making plans, of being out and about scares me. I need stability to seep into my bones a little more. My accomplishment for 2019 will be steeping in goodness. There. I've blogged my way into an intention for the new year.

But how?

2019 came in like a lion. I lay awake wondering if the venerable oak trees book-ending our house would topple in on us. The wind howled and I could hear things crashing and banging outside. One thing that banged a lot is one of those curtain screens with magnets to hold it together. The magnets rhythmically hit the wall and I think one of the first things I will do in 2019 is get rid of it. I'd left it there through other storms thinking it would be of service in the summer. Perhaps I will get rid of it, and something better will appear at the right time. It will be the first of many things I will let go of to make room for what is to come.

I will continue to be grateful for all we've been given and all the love we've felt.


A friend suggested last night's winds are the winds of change.
I hope so.
I hope they have thoroughly cleared out anything that is keeping me from letting goodness seep into my bones. They have shown me I must make way for the new. Though the winds howled all night and stole my sleep, they left the gift of hope.

I am hopeful for us all this new year. Hopeful we will all find goodness to seep into our bones. Hopeful we will all make space for something better. Hopeful I can be part of the goodness in my own life and yours.

Happy new year to all far and wide.

Christmas is here again!

Merry Christmas to you all!

I'm sitting here this Christmas morning, full of thoughts of gratefulness.
I'm thinking about our wonderful friends and family who have carried us this far. I'm also thinking of friends who are celebrating the kind of first Christmas you don't want to celebrate. The ones without a loved one.

Dominic and I went to our other family for dinner last night. Our other family is the one we're lucky enough to have in addition to the ones we were born into!

I volunteered to bring cookies. I figured I could put Dom to work again. I couldn't bring just one kind though. I had to make a couple. And some chocolate nut treats also. And then I had to bake a cake. I really wanted to bake a buche de Noel, but I chickened out and just made a gingerbread sheet cake cut in the shape of a tree. Complete with meringue mushrooms though. And as it was baking, I remarked to Dom that houses should smell of gingerbread at Christmas time.

As tray after tray of cookies and sweets were laid out, (the hostess had also made delicious cookies), someone commented on all the different things I brought and couldn't believe how many different things I'd made.  Here's the thing: Aside of the fact that my Grandmother whom I adore made several different cookies every year, I was home and I could! And I didn't realize what a big deal that was to me until last night I was washing up the last minute hustle of dishes I couldn't wash before we left for the party. I had a flash back of that dark little kitchen in Sacramento with the metal sink that made such a racket no matter how gently you set an item in the sink. I then could not for the life of me remember what we had for Christmas dinner. I remember it getting really hot once we started cooking. And we sat around the coffee table eating, in a daze in an unfamiliar place surrounded by Christmas cards we were so grateful to receive and a tinsel tree I'd snagged for fifty cents the Christmas before.

All those thoughts came tumbling out as I wiped down the counters and breathed a sigh of relief to be home. Last night's dinner was Dominic's first social outing as well. He managed the steps with the help of our family and it's another milestone for him. Perhaps the highlight for him was when one of the toddlers at the gathering just sat down next to him and looked up at him with her sweet face and watched a little cartoon with him.

I got up early this morning to let our neighbor's goats out. I walked to the end of the drive and in a big circle just to enjoy the cold quiet of the morning. The sun is out and the air is crisp. And we're home. And Dominic is cancer free and getting better every day.

Christmas has many layers of meaning for us. Celebrating being home also has many layers. And as we peel through all the layers together today, we send all our love to you and wish you the merriest of days.