Dear Friends and Family,
It has been a while since I’ve written to you twice in one day, but today deserves and warrants a second letter.
Earlier this afternoon, when Jayna and I arrived back at the apartment, Nancy fell quickly into a deep and abiding sleep. So as not to wake Nancy, we quietly giggled for a few minutes about Nancy’s grocery store antics and then I headed up the mountain to work the afternoon shift at the clinic. I had only been in my office for about twenty minutes when the phone in my pocket began vibrating. Luckily, I was not in a patient room. Jayna was on the other end.
“Hi, Dadder. You have a minute?”
In reality I didn’t. I was already behind, with patients in every room.
“Sure, sweetie, what’s up?”
“I just got off the phone with Delia. You remember her don’t you, Dad.”
“Of course, she’s your best friend! How’s she doing? Is she still liking Vassar?”
“More than ever, Dadder. She just got her senior thesis back. And guess what? She received a commendation—that means she’s the best in her major, English.”
“Wow, Jayna that’s wonderful. Next time she calls, tell her I’m so happy about her achievement. And give her my congratulations.”
I couldn’t help but glance at the wall clock wondering, “Where is this going?” I didn’t have to wait long as I almost immediately heard uncontrollable sobbing.
“Dadder, do you . . . do you think . . . do you think I would have gotten a commendation?”
I gripped the phone more tightly and ducked into the supply room. I didn’t want anyone to see my face. After leaving Peru on a single day’s notice, after her boyfriend was not allowed into the United States, after transferring to Utah for her senior year, Jayna was experiencing the combined weight of the world on her shoulders. All sorts of feelings from dedicating eight months of her life to our family had reached their apex and were finally coming to the surface.
“Of course, Jayna. You had a 3.9 GPA before you transferred to Utah. You have a 4.0 from your first semester here at the university. Are you missing Vassar, Jayna?”
I could hear more sobbing, which reverberated throughout my body. My heart plummeted and I immediately found that I was faulting and questioning myself.
Why couldn’t I have done more?
Why had I messed up again?
Why don’t I give Jayna the attention she needs?
“I’m sorry, Dadder. I shouldn’t burden you.”
“Jayna. I’m so sorry. I’m so very, very sorry. Your life has been turned upside down. You’ve had to sacrifice so much. I wish that your mother and I had been more insistent that you go back to Vassar. I wish you were there right now . . .”
Jayna didn’t respond for what seemed like a long time. When she did, she had regained her composure: “It’s all right, Dadder. Mom means more than anything else. It was just hard for a moment.”
I bet it was, my sweet, sweet daughter. You’ve been incredibly strong and incredibly helpful. You have been a shining light to your mother during the darkest times. You’re able to make her laugh when there was little reason for laughter.
“Hey, Jayna. I’ll tell you what. Let’s go out and celebrate—for Delia and for you.”
“That would be great, Dadder.”
Life is slowly getting back to normal in the Winn household. We are starting to reflect on the past—and even daring to contemplate the future. The fog of Nancy’s disease is slowly lifting. It is a happier time for us. But there is a toll paid by the family of anyone with a chronic or life-threatening disease.
“Jayna, consider this. The fact you’re thinking about Vassar means Mom is really getting better. I’ll see you in a few hours when I get off work. We’ll tuck Mom in and then go raise a glass to Delia, you, and Mom.”
And, of course, to all of you.
Summary: Day eighty-nine post-transplant and counting. We are three and a half weeks out of the hospital now. Most days are blissfully unexciting. On some days, Nancy barely gets out of bed; others are without a single nap. We watch a lot of TV together, and the other day, there was even a novel on Nancy’s nightstand. Nancy is tolerating full meals regularly. She continues to take baby steps toward recovery. The result of Nancy’s increasing recovery is that Jayna is also looking outward at what, until now, has been all but impossible.
As always,
Winnie