Dear Friends and Family,
Early this morning, I found myself hesitantly standing outside the door of our apartment’s bedroom so as not to disturb a tableau-like moment that was being shared between Nancy and Jayna. My “two girls,” framed by the doorway, were talking to the full-length mirror. They would point at the mirror and then Jayna would turn her mother 180 degrees. I heard only laughter and delight as Nancy strained her neck to glimpse at her image. Then, unexpectedly, Jayna walked away and returned with a hat in her hand.
“I like the red one!” Jayna exclaimed, as she angled the hat so its low side nearly hid Nancy’s left ear. “It will be a fashion statement and it matches your new red top.”
“What about this dark-blue one?” Nancy asked, pulling a round hat with a larger brim from the pile of wigs, scarves, and head coverings spread across the entirety of the queen bed.
“This one looks great, too. It could work with your navy top. Both go with your black pants or these new jeans.” Jayna held the denim slacks in front of Nancy while both posed in front of the mirror. “Put them on, Mommer.”
Mothers and daughters choosing an outfit—it’s an age-old ritual that used to drive me nuts. Today, however, it brings tears to my eyes because Nancy is getting ready for a special occasion.
Despite my effort to be quiet and invisible, Jayna noticed me in the doorway. “Dadder, doesn’t this look good on Mom? Which shirt do you like best?” Jayna holds first the red and then the blue blouse in front of Nancy.
I look for a place to hide. To me, everything looks good.
“Jayna, you know better. Your father is clothing ‘challenged.’ Just put both in my suitcase. We’ll make a final decision later.”
Nancy really means “Jayna’s” suitcase. It’s the only luggage residing in our Salt Lake City apartment. Jayna purchased the valise for twenty dollars in Peru when she hastily returned to the United States. The suitcase’s exterior is green paisley and it had been large enough for Jayna to throw everything in it when she made her mad dash to the airport.
“That’s too big. We’re only going for one night,” I had been laughingly admonished by Jayna.
Now it’s a different story. My pajamas probably won’t fit and there may not be room for my toothbrush—especially since Nancy and Jayna continue to hunt for the “right” combination.
Jayna winks. “You may have to use a Toys ‘R’ Us bag for your stuff, Dadder. I saw one under the sink in the kitchen. Jaret won’t mind.”
I retreat to the kitchen to retrieve the sack, with the continuing sounds of cheerful banter in my ear. The celebration has already been a huge success and we’re not even in Park City yet for our dinner in a real restaurant.
Celebration?
Dinner in Park City?
A real restaurant?
Yes.
Although tonight is still several days before the magical one-hundred-day post-transplant target, two of Nancy’s dearest friends arrived yesterday.
So why not celebrate early?
What could be more appropriate than an unexpected return to the mountains?
What could be more fun than a slumber party at Emmy and Fred’s house?
A night out is mundane if you don’t have leukemia. A meal at a favorite restaurant might even seem routine if you don’t have leukemia. For us, however, food from a printed menu served by a waitress is an all-but-forgotten luxury. (Our last visit to Ghidotti’s, Nancy’s favorite restaurant in Park City, was the night before her transplant hospitalization in October. At the time, we wondered if Nancy would ever eat in a restaurant again.)
At dinner tonight, Nancy only tolerated one sip of wine—her taste buds are still not yet ready for more of the “nectar of the gods.” But the food was delicious and she consumed nearly a full portion of linguini with white clam sauce, a dish she longed for during her many months of nausea. Dinner was a delight and a triumph in equal measures. Just weeks ago, a single spoonful was considered a meal by Nancy.
In the center of our table, there was a flickering candle that sent soft shadows across the fine crystal, elegant silverware, and uniquely shaped dishes. The lighted taper illuminated Nancy’s face. Her blue eyes, highlighted by the blue hat, were filled with joy and jubilant luster.
I watched Nancy like a mother hen for signs of fatigue, but it was Jaret who commanded her full attention when he described his college classes to Lyn, Nancy’s friend from Marblehead, Massachusetts. There were no heavy eyelids tonight. Nancy even told us about flying into Las Vegas during the “old days” with John, our other out-of-town guest, from Salem, Massachusetts. Lyn and John both flew with Nancy when she worked for TWA. Nancy introduced them to me years ago and they quickly became my friends, too.
Nancy is so much stronger this past week. Her giggle almost reached the table next to us and her smile seemed wider tonight too—especially when she tasted Jayna’s fettuccine alfredo and sneaked a bite of Fred and Emmy’s clams casino.
This evening, chills raced down my arms when I realized that I haven’t seen Nancy look this good for a long, long time. There are now fewer wrinkles on Nancy’s forehead, her shoulders sit higher than last week, and she exudes warmth and beauty.
For a moment, I wondered if it was the hat?
But in reality, I know the real answer.
Summary: Two of Nancy’s best friends from her TWA flying days are visiting from Boston. So we turned the evening into an early one-hundred-day post-transplant celebration by going to one of her favorite restaurants in Park City and then having a “sleepover” in the mountain home of Emmy and Fred. Life is good—very good.
With much love,
Winnie