Dear Friends and Family,
When I wrote you this morning, I got so emotional that I sent my note before I shared the last part of my trilogy.
So, here is “The Good.”
After a week had passed following the low blood count episode, I kissed Nancy’s fuzzy head at ten o’clock one morning, an hour earlier than our most recent custom, and said quietly, “Wake up beautiful, it’s time to get ready. I need to borrow some blood.”
“Borrow?”
On the ride to the hospital for her follow-up appointment, I wondered what would happen this time. Nancy’s serenity didn’t extend to my side of the car. She grabbed my hand. “Today will be a good day, Winnie. Don’t worry.”
Her eyes sparkled so intensely I partially swerved onto the shoulder for a moment. “Relax,” she commanded. “And try not to hit anybody.”
How does Nancy always sense my feelings? And soothe them.
Predictably, Nancy was right again. When Malinda, our nurse practitioner, knocked on the exam room door and walked into the room, her eyebrows were raised and she immediately shook both our hands. “Your labs are perfect, Nancy. You are finally drinking and eating enough. And the best part is that your blood cultures are negative. The bug is gone. There’s no more need for IV antibiotics. You know what that means?”
With a controlled pull and immediate pressure, Nancy’s IV line was removed. Her constant companion came painlessly out of her arm, and there was less than a drop of blood lost.
“There,” Malinda said as she threw the tubing into the red garbage can designated for medical waste and took off her gloves. “How long has it been, Nancy?”
“Let’s see. I’ve had one IV or another most of the time since my first admission—I guess that was May 29. I can’t even remember what it’s going to be like to take a shower without it. I always had to worry about getting the site wet and causing another infection.”
The good, the bad, and the ugly.
For over nine months now, Nancy has crawled, limped, or charged through the bad and the ugly to reach the good. The day after her IV was removed, we packed our belongings and left Salt Lake City for our return to the mountains. We had barely walked through the door of the Marshalls’ home, where we were to spend the next month, when Nancy shed her clothes and raced into the shower of their master bedroom.
“You all right, Nancy? You’ve been in there a long time.”
All I heard was a guttural sound: “Ahhh!”
Through the fog-covered glass of the shower door, I could see that Nancy’s entire body was adorned in soap. Water streamed down her face and jumped from the edges of her mouth. Her lips were widely separated and her pearly whites dazzling despite the increasing steam that was rapidly engulfing the bathroom.
She is amazing.
And I could also hear Nancy’s uplifting laughter and see her beautiful smile beneath the water streaming off the tip of her nose on to the bathroom tile below.
Summary: The last few weeks have been a time of guarded triumph tempered with a dose of reality. Generally, our path has been upward, figuratively and literally. After all, this week we returned to our beloved mountains. For the next month, we will be living in our friend’s home in Pinebrook, a housing development just over Parley’s Summit. Our friends, the Marshalls, are vacationing in Florida for the month of March and they have graciously offered us their home with its ever-present warmth. The Marshalls’ home is a wonderful intermediary stop on our journey back to Woodland and is within easy striking distance to the hospital—if needed.
Much love and thanks,
Winnie