When my wife, Nancy, was diagnosed with an aggressive form of acute myeloid leukemia, our lives changed forever. Overnight, our world went from the normality of daily life to one tumbling and careening out of control. For the next two years, we existed under the dark uncertainty of a life-threatening disease and amid the roller coaster of tests, treatments, and hospitals. My escape was my medical practice, and my only comfort was the unwavering support of our families, friends, and our community. Heartbreakingly, I simply began to cry whenever I was asked about Nancy.
Since it was so much easier for me to write than to talk, I began composing letters on many of the evenings that I sat quietly and resolutely beside my acutely ill wife in the soft, flickering nighttime lights of her hospital room. My middle-of-the-night updates became the way for me to share our journey with our friends and family. And over time, I came to learn that these late-night reflections depicting our struggles and travails touched the hearts of friends and acquaintances alike.
Critically, scores of our friends reassured me that it was all right to communicate with them during these hours of darkness. Their constant caring and expressions of encouragement allowed me to share my most intimate thoughts and fears. Without this positive feedback and overwhelming acceptance, I would not have continued my writings during those two years. To them, I will forever and always be grateful.
Shortly after Nancy’s final hospitalization, I received a very special gift from Edgar and Polly Stern, longtime friends of ours. Polly had saved each of my middle-of-the-night letters and compiled them into a compendium she titled A Love Story: Letters from Winnie. When I was given the twenty-five copies that Polly had self-published, she said, “At some point, your loved ones will want to read this story. It’s important. And you should consider sharing your words with others.” Polly possessed a gentle kindness and a gigantic heart. Her gift reflected her person: Caring. Insightful. Inspiring. Little did I know how important her gift would become—because I had not saved any of my writings.
Since then, a similar sentiment has often been expressed to me. Yet for many all-too-self-apparent reasons, I was always hesitant to revisit and retrace our journey, because to do so was simply too painful. But with the passage of time, I healed, too. The tipping point for me came at a most unexpected time and surprising place.
Late last year, near the end of the ski season, I was at a small, intimate dinner party in a mountain yurt on the upper slopes of the Canyons Ski Resort in Park City, Utah. Unexpectedly, I ran into Kristin Barber, who I hadn’t seen since she had been a nurse practitioner student in our office. She said, “Winnie, I’ve been wanting to tell you something important. You had an impact on my life.” She explained that she had asked to be on my mailing list and that my writings had influenced her career choice—she became an oncology nurse practitioner. Like Polly, Kristin proclaimed, “I hope you will publish your writings someday for others to learn from and find inspiration—just like I did.”
By sheer coincidence, Tim Pearson, a close friend and the brother of Tom Pearson, the two hosts of the evening’s affair (and himself an author who had written the critically acclaimed New York Times bestseller The Old Rules are Dead), had been talking with Kristin before my arrival. He listened thoughtfully to our exchange. “Would you like to publish your letters?” he asked. “Send me copies. I’ll give you my honest opinion and offer some suggestions on where to go with a manuscript.”
I don’t know if it was the wine, the circumstances, or both. I sent one of Polly’s compilations to Tim the next day. The rest, as they say, is history. With his unwavering, nurturing guidance and rigorous editing, Love Letters from Winnie was transformed into Night Reflections: A True Story of Friendship, Love, Cancer, and Survival. Our chance meeting led to both his ongoing sage counsel and his truly invaluable continuing involvement that challenged and sustained my efforts during our own journey of discovery together. This book is his as much as it is mine.