Dear Friends and Family,
The last time we were required to come to the hospital, Nancy was appearing to have a seemingly healthy day. She had increased strength, improved appetite, and less leg pain. We were absolutely shocked when it was discovered she had a fever. And frankly, it was very depressing and frightening when she was readmitted to the fifth floor. Luckily, Nancy’s hospitalization lasted only two days because the infection had just started and was caused by a germ easily treated by antibiotics.
It is not surprising, then, that as I dropped Nancy off at the hospital’s front door today and left to park the car, my stomach started to stir uneasily again. The “fifth floor” windows of our last three rooms were all clearly visible to me as I walked from the parking lot back to the hospital. For this reason, I suspect that I will always feel somewhat unsettled when I pass through the revolving hospital doors. (In reality, it actually sucks that I require antacids when I bring Nancy to the hospital.).
This time, however, the appointment went smoothly. Not only did Nancy look and feel healthy, her exam (including her temperature) was normal.
“Do you have any questions?” asked the physician assistant, Robert.
“Yes, we were just wondering if any of Nancy’s tests are back. We were told the bone marrow exam might be done by today.”
As we waited for a response to our question, I found myself for some unknown reason thinking about “kissing.”
My first kiss with someone other than a “relative” occurred when I was nine years old. Her name was Andrea, and she had a long, blonde ponytail and lots of freckles. I was at summer camp. We only kissed that one time, and I never saw her again after we returned to our separate homes.
I didn’t experience the same butterflies in my stomach and tingling in my toes again until I was thirty. It was the first time I kissed Nancy and I was saying good-bye to her in Yellowstone National Park. I remember our kiss as it if it was yesterday, and I also distinctly recollect wondering if I would ever see her again.
Nancy, in fact, did come back to Yellowstone the next week, and by the fifth time we kissed, it was comfortable and fulfilling, sentiments that have remained unchanged for the last twenty-eight years.
Bone marrow tests are different from kisses, though.
As I waited for the test results for the fifth time, it was no less frightening, no less easy, and certainly no less important. Robert left the room for two, maybe three, minutes. Time stood still and each of those minutes was an eternity.
My wait was exactly like the first time.
And the second.
And the third.
And the fourth.
Nancy, on the other hand, barely noticed Robert’s absence. Her face, unlike mine, was content, playful, and happy. She busied herself interacting with the TV remote, changing the channels, and adjusting the picture and sound. (I’m certain it felt good for her to control something. For months at a time, she was too weak to even hold a remote.)
Robert knocked as he reentered the room. Nancy accurately hit the mute button and said with a smile, “You’re back.” The next few seconds were agonizingly long. I searched for a hint in his eyes, his face, or even in his body language. Before I could find a clue, Robert handed me three sheets of lab results as he addressed my better half.
“Well, Nancy, it’s a clean sweep. Congratulations! Your bone marrow is perfect. No leukemia. And your skin biopsy shows no sign of graft-versus-host disease.”
Robert discussed the other more routine lab work, but I tuned him out. I bit my lower lip and concentrated. Don’t break down, Winnie, I told myself. Nancy glanced my way and smiled, then nodded her head up and down ever so slightly. She knew. She grabbed my hand and put it between both of hers.
My bride. You are so much stronger than me.
“So,” Robert finished, “You will hear from Rachael later in the day about your meeting with Dr. Peterson. He will map out the next steps. Again, congratulations to you both. Oh, and . . . I love your shirt and scarf.”
Nancy and I were both wearing T-shirts that we had received special delivery from her childhood friends in Calhoun, Georgia—Tes, Can, Nita, and Bootie. “Happy 100th Day,” the shirts read on the front and “We’re always behind you” was written across the back. In addition, in keeping with her “fashionista” approach to her personal attire, Nancy’s head covering was also distinctive. It was a “buff” from Survivor, a present from Emmy and our Christmas angel’s husband, Fred, which prominently displayed the reality TV show’s title.
Today, all things being equal, both Nancy’s shirt and head covering were very fitting.
Summary: Nancy’s test results confirm that she has met the biggest challenge of a bone marrow transplant patient older than twenty. She is leukemia-free at the one-hundred-day post-transplant milestone.
Best,
Winnie