Living and Loving

This was taken by dad mere minutes after hearing the good news!

Well, I think most of you know by now, I am officially considered cancer-free!!  And oh boy, what a road we've taken to get here--almost two years of it!  It has been a 10 days since I found out that my stem-cell transplant might not have worked...they found "suspicious nodes" lighting up.  This past 10 days has been one wild ride I tell you!  I have faced my own mortality directly in the face and had to sit with that discomfort until it became comfortable.  I was torn in a million pieces most of the time, and spent much of it trying to distract myself.  And you out there, you reading, you sending me love, you, my friends and family, have helped keep me alive and going during this crazy time.  And then I have you to rejoice with when we hear good news like we heard yesterday.  It feels amazing.  Better than amazing.  Like I truly have been reborn.

We were surprised to actually get the results yesterday.  I already had a pre-arranged appointment with my bone marrow doc scheduled for yesterday to go over the results of my 100 days post test.  So, with surgery Monday, we didn't think that the results of the biopsy would be back in time for the appointment.  Apparently my bone marrow doc has pull with the pathologist at the hospital and not only did the pathologist have time to read the biopsy, he had time to sit down with my doc and the PA and go over the slides in detail and really make sure/explain that the biopsy showed no signs of cancer.  Now, there indeed was a mass that lit up, and one that the doc took out, but what we've found is that it is an enlarged thymus gland.  The thymus gland is important for your immune system, but apparently atrophies in all humans by about the age of 15.  It has happened in some cases of Hodgkins after chemo that the thymus gland is re-ignited and I guess that is what happened to me!  My immune system was raring to go!!

This whole week has been surreal.  We've received bad news after bad news for so long that we all went into this appointment somber and bracing ourselves for what we could possibly hear again.  Fact is, if this came back with a positive biopsy, the disease is considered incurable, because of the short duration on relapse, and I enter into a world of clinical trials and unknowns.  This is hard news to swallow.  And it does happen to people.

So you can imagine the emotion in the room when my PA, the most wonderful PA ever, didn't even bother with the niceties and got immediately down to the real info....that I had a PET last week, that it showed suspicious nodes, that I had a biopsy, and that the biopsy showed NO CANCER!!!  Unbelievable.  There were tears, I lost it of course.  Even the PA was tearing up.  There aren't words to describe the emotions.  LOVE LOVE LOVE was the biggest, and I was there with mom, dad and Michael, and we FELT it.  Deeply, strongly.

The doctor comes in, and of course squelches a bit of our happiness, but even that was hard for him to do.  He said that the surgeon only got 2/3 of the mass...so there could still be cancer there.  But there was a 95% chance that that isn't so.  I also mentioned to him that really we can't exhale completely for 5 years, and he said true, but if I relapse again year 2-5 I have a much greater chance of cure than if I did now.

So we came back to our home...and mom, dad, Michael and I sat on our porch, like we did just over a week ago.  Except this time, instead of having the breath knocked out of us depressed, we were giddy, laughing, crying, loving, and letting the world know that I am cancer-free!!!  And then a storm rolled in and we basked in the loveliness that is the summer thunderstorm.  Yes, let it rain, let it wash away your fears.

I had bought tickets over a month ago to see Chris Isaak at Chastain Park last night.  I had forgotten I had done so when all this craziness was swelling around us.  And then on Tuesday I get an e-mail event reminder.  I knew that if I hadn't gotten the results we were wanting, we probably wouldn't have gone.  I am still recovering from surgery too.  But, with this good news, we couldn't help but pack a picnic, put on some rain gear and head to the park, one of our favorite places to go.  (for those of you who don't know I absolutely ADORE summer.  LOVE it.  It is the happiest time of year for me.)  So we got to go out, smile, laugh, love and enjoy living another summer night together.  It was incredibly romantic.  The best part of the night was when he sang Elvis's "I can't help falling in love with you".  It was raining, we were cuddled under the umbrella, singing to each other.  It was so so nice.  We exhaled...

So my biggest love to you all.  Thank you for your outpouring of love and sharing this time with us.  I do plan to respond to you all on FB, but for now I am going to pack up and head TO WORK! First time in 4 months.  I also am sending buckets of love to my dear sister Dawn who is finishing up her own struggles.  Dawn, you are going to ROCK it!!!  And will be done in time to return to your beautiful kids at school.  We are going to be rocking on a porch swing 50 years from now together talking about the good ole days!!

post surgery

Hi all.  Feeling a bit drained, so I am not going to spend much time writing, but I wanted to let you all know that I made it through surgery okay.  They kept me overnight with a chest tube to drain the fluids that  collected in my thoracic cavity.  Fortunately I checked out fine today and they let me go home--tube removed.  Now I am recovering at home from another painful surgery.  The good news is that we did this last year and know more now what to expect.  We know that the pain will eventually go away and I will breathe normally again.

We don't have the results of the biopsy and should know by next Monday at the latest.  We are keeping hopes alive that this is just a false positive.  The doctor said he removed "unusual tissue" but it wasn't like a swollen lymph node.  It was more like thickened lymph tissue.  I hope this is a good thing.

The night before the surgery I went and read all the comments you all left me on my previous blog and I can't tell you how much that helped me.  You all are so wise, and kind, and loving.  And I thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Alright, well, sweet dreams.  I'll keep you posted!

Let it Rain

So here I sit, another rainy summer (almost) night in Georgia.  The rain feels like a glorious blessing upon the hard, hot earth around us.  The lightening and thunder are a magical play between beauty and rage.  As I sit here on my porch, soaking it in, I can't help but feel content, safe, refreshed, cozy, loved.  There is something about a summer storm that stirs me.

First of all, I'd like to put out a huge thank you to all of you who have sent your love my way.  I have no words to describe how much it means to me that you spent the time to spread your love and open your heart in such a difficult time.  I need your love, and you totally delivered.  So I thank you from the bottom of my heart.  Goodness, my words can't even express my gratitude.  

The news I heard on Tuesday knocked the breath out of me.

"Possible recurrence"

"Suspicious nodes"

"this is shitty shitty news"

"remember, you are a survivor"

By some sort of grace...people say the grace of god....which, in this instance makes me believe, I was with my aunt Becky when Dr. Hamrick called me.  I was with Becky, she's a therapist/energy worker, because I knew that the waiting game excruciating.  I knew that she could help me move the energy that was stress, that was pain, that was fear.  We worked for 45 minutes on this before I even got the call.  And then, the phone rang, and I heard the news, and Becky held my hand tight and gave me confidence to keep listening.  Dr. Hamrick delivered bad news again, how many times now is this??? And again, he imbued kindness, and compassion, and courage and hope.  I still can't believe how much this meant to me, but his words, and his way...I carry with me.  He is a good doctor.  Becky is an amazing aunt.  She held me and sang to me and let me cry.  She even cancelled her next clients because she didn't want to leave me alone.  Expansive love.

When I hung up the phone with my doctor I experienced a rage like I have never had before.  I screamed like I had gone haywire.  I pounded pillows. I cried. I yelled.  Until I felt hollow.

And I sat with that for quite awhile.

Michael and my mom came to get me from Becky's.  Dad came later and we sat on our front porch for a long time processing, and being together, and trying to laugh.

So the news...there are three areas that are lighting up on the PET scan, all in the same area as I have have had before, in the mediastinium (heart area).  Two are very very small lymph nodes that are lighting up very dimly, barely above background.  The other is sort of a sheath that is above my heart, but in front of my thymus.  Dr. Hamrick consulted with Dr. Bashey, my bone marrow doc, and they decided that before we do anything, we need to do a biopsy of the area to confirm that there is even anything to worry about.

Patty sent the most elevating e-mail I've read in a long time listing several scientific articles talking about the incidence of false positives on PET scan with lymphomas after treatment.  From reading, it looks like we somewhere like a 40% chance that there is a false positive.  Wouldn't that be lovely!!??

Last night Patty and Mary came over for meditation.  I was present, kind of.  It was nice to have them there.  Our time together has been solid, and meaningful, and a transformation.  Where this goes, we don't know, but it feels deep, and real, and magical.   Michael cuddled me to sleep last night.  And this morning, I woke with a face swollen from crying like several bees had stung my face.

Mom picked me up at 7am, like old times! And we headed to Northside Hospital to meet with the surgeon.  I am scheduled for a biopsy on Monday morning.  So we hold our breaths and wait.  ... again...

I also had an appointment with the pulmonologist today because I failed my preliminary test with at the oncologist on Monday.  Back in January when I was tested I had perfect lung function, and now I am at 75%.  The good news is that it is repairable, and I just need to exercise the lungs and the body.

Mom has been keeping me company, and I really have enjoyed the perks of being 100 days past transplant.  I've enjoyed salads, shopping, walking around without a mask, and even enjoying moments where I take off my head scarf without caring what anyone else thinks.

So this past day has left me sitting in a depression that seems hard to shake. But it seems as if it is not coming from fear of the future, nor out of sadness or worry even.  What I feel is this.  I feel 1. angry, angry that I even have to deal with this, again.  2. jealous, jealous that other's have been healed from this and I keep struggling, (this is the "good cancer" after all), and 3. like a failure, a failure because I feel like if you just work hard enough, you can succeed (remember, I am an A student).  We've tried so many things, and still, we have to sit with this.

And just stating that makes me even more pissed off because all three of those statements are disgusting.  One, anger...well, this is life sweetheart, and shit happens.  Look at all the people suffering right now.  What makes you so special?  Two, jealousy?  I should be happy for the people who have survived and thrived, and I AM, but why can't it be me too?  And three?  well, everyone says this isn't your fault.  And yes, okay, it isn't.  Let's believe it.  

So speaking my mind does ease my suffering.  And in the words of my mother and husband....stop worrying about stuff that you don't even know to be true.  It is true that we don't know what is going on. We need more information.  So yes, that does bring comfort.

Where my mind goes to when it eases away from the suffering is that I can just imagine myself a month, or two months, or a year from now thinking how I've felt as recently as a week ago.  That this journey has been one that has been tough, but has been one of the best things that could have happened to me.   I have a richness to my life that wasn't there before, in mind, body and spirit.  I have made connections with people, myself, and the divine that trump any experience thus far.  I have soaked in the deliciousness of love, of living in the moment, and of appreciation and gratitude.  And I just hope that the lessons going forward will enrich these facets even more.  I believe they will.

So on with living.  I've decided that if I am not in treatment I am going to continue living my life FOR the living, and not put plans on hold because of the "what ifs".  Michael deserves it, and so do I.

Again, you all totally make the world go round.  Thanks for your love, for your kind words, for your support, your hope, and for just being you!  I look forward to many many more years with you.

Let It Rain

Checking In

Hi all!  I just wanted to spend a moment to check in here with you all.  I know that when I go silent for awhile you start to worry, so thank you for your worries and thoughts.  But the good news is I am doing just fine! 

We are back in the waiting game however (PET scan in two weeks!), and we all know what that means.  This time I feel better equipped to deal with it as I have been spending most of my time working on ways to deal with it, such as qigong practice, meditation practice, walking, and seeing energy healers.  

So I am feeling more solid going into this next PET scan and there are times that I truly believe and feel that I am cancer-free, and that melts away all the worry.  These thoughts of believing I am cancer-free are very new to me as I have never been able to truly go there through this whole journey--through what I think? fear? the fact that I wasn't? my spiritual practice wasn't as strong?  But I do have tastes of this feeling and it feels great, and solid.  So I am going to sit with that loveliness when it comes, and when fear sets in, which it does, I am going just keep going.  

So PET scan is on Monday, June 13th.  That will be day 101 +.  I will also have blood work and another bone marrow biopsy (yuck!).  The Cook family is coming to visit the weekend before, so I am thrilled to have that distraction, let alone a weekend filled with laughter and love.  

Once I get clean PET results, which I will!, I will go back to work!  I will also be able to eat raw veggies again, and go shopping for myself in PUBLIC!!   So we are on the countdown now to a more normal life.  Just a little over two weeks folks!  And to put it in perspective, I've been in quarantine since Feburary 1st.  That is 4 months!  And I've been on this phase of the Healing Journey since the beginning of December.  So we are all ready for some normalcy :)  I never really knew until this experience how much I enjoy/need human interaction.  

In the meantime, I will be thinking so strongly with my heart and soul of my dear friends who are really struggling with their own journey.  My heart breaks when I think of all the friends I've lost, and I know the story isn't over.  We live and we die, yet the dying part can be so painful for those left here living. 

So let's all enjoy each moment and love as much as possible because we all never know when we will take our last breath.  

Love you!

The Butterfly

Okay, here we go.  I am sitting down to write this blog post.  I know it has been forever since I've updated and I've been wondering why it has been so difficult for me to get here and tell you how things are going.  And, I guess what it comes down to is that I am still trying to figure that out for myself, so how can I tell you?  I think people, when they ask me how I am doing, are really wondering how's my energy?  how's my nausea? etc.  And I can answer all those questions, but what is really going on with me is so multi-faceted that I find lack of words to truly explain it (and I wonder how many people really care to hear it).  There is the surface layer which encompasses the physical well-being, there is the mental/emotional layer that is still processing what I just went through--good and bad, there is the intellectual layer that has spent hours pouring over scientific literature trying to make sense of my disease, treatment and recovery, there is the social layer with me dabbling back into my circles and wondering how I can relate back to my friends when our lives have taken such different paths, and then there is the spiritual layer that has deeply seated into my psyche yet yearns for more answers and experiences.   Now add to that the mixed bag of emotions that comes with the upcoming PET/CT scan, bone marrow biopsy and lab tests that marks my 100 days post transplant mark (38 days from now).  Excitement for the 100 day restrictions to be lifted and life getting back to more normalcy, nervousness for the results.... SO---lot's going on in this ole noggin.  And outside of the noggin for that matter...(I am trying to get out of there as much as possible!!!)

Yesterday was my 2 month anniversary of my "rebirth."  I spent it outside most of the day, in the sunshine, with the breeze blowing through my head scarf :p.  I read a lot, laughed, enjoyed the company of my parents and got to people watch.  I am not allowed in public, but I did sit outside in a public park at a coffee shop.  I, for all intents and purposes, can say that I am doing pretty well.  That is the down and dirty.  But this whole experience has left a deep impact on me and it is going to take years, if not my lifetime to sift through the pages.  I am changed, am changing, and am also the same ole Evie.  My eyebrows are even starting to grow back!

Gosh, it's crazy....I have SO much to say, I am tearing up just writing this and the fullness of content I could be relating to you.  But I just don't have it in me right now to share.  I hope I do capture these feelings, at least for me.  Maybe by writing it will help me sift it out.  But for now I think I'll just leave you with some photos of me at different points in the journey.  At the onset I wanted to take a picture of me every week to mark progress, but in the trenches, I really had no care in the world to do anything but survive each day.  So here's what I got....

This is the morning of discharge after 8 days in the hospital.  My mouth sores had healed by then, but you can see my mouth is still a bit swollen.  I look grey and pasty.  But, it just a few short minutes after this photo was taken I ate a bowl of cheerios...the first solid food I had in 8 days.  

This is the same morning, I turned around to get a picture with the rising sun on my face.  I wanted you to see the IV pole that at one point had something running into all three of my catheter lines.  That was a noisy sucker, but kept me alive.  Those drugs that were pumped into me cost $48,000 over the 8 days. 

This is me on the day I got my catheter removed.  In retrospect I am surprised I was smiling as I had just been through an incredibly painful procedure that was supposed to "not hurt at all."  I was given no drugs, and there were complications with getting the catheter out.  But, like so many times in these past two years, I was saved by the kindness of strangers.  The nurse that was assisting let me squeeze the heck out of his hand and he had a large belly that was pressed up against my shaking body that oddly felt comforting.  

This is me on the land, and boy can I tell you how fast my recovery moves when I am out there? This is halfway up the mountain that I've hiked now several times since transplant.  It is invigorating and makes me feel alive.  That earth is healing.  

Mom took this of me.  I was really in the middle of fixing my hat, but I love this picture because it reminds me of how I feel when I am doing qigong--like I am washing bliss energy from the earth and the heavens all through my body as white light shines down upon me.  

Happy happy happy.  Me on the land, resting during a 4.5 hour hike!!

In Love

One weekend when we were up in the mountains, we laid a blanket down by the waterfall and just soaked in the beauty of it all.  This was the view I looked up at for almost an hour.  It was a lovely day.  

Day +30

30 days.  It is amazing how so much yet so little can happen in 30 days.  I guess it is all in how you look at it.

These 30 days have taught me that I must learn patience or else I suffer.  These 30 days have taught me that I must learn to live in the moment and not worry for the future or else I suffer.  These 30 days have taught me that I need to give up control over my recovery or else I suffer.  These 30 days have taught me that I can cry and get angry and depressed and it is okay, and it is only when I resist,  I suffer.

These 30 days have also taught me that I can find joy that transcends the physical body if I just listen.  These 30 days have taught me that I am strong despite my second guessing.  These 30 days have taught me abundant and unconditional love.  These 30 days have taught me that my soul is fueled by mother nature and by the connections I have with those around me.   These 30 days have taught me joy in simple things, which brings intense gratitude.

These 30 days have taught me that life is hard, but there is always someone else it is harder for, so count my blessings.  These 30 days have also taught me that despite everything I and my family have had to go through I sometimes feel like the luckiest person alive.

.....and then, sometimes within the blink of an eye, I find myself cycling back to having to learn those first lesson's again.....

This was taken on New Years Day 2011.  Michael and I had a ceremony on the land under the grand Hemlock tree to set intentions for the new year and to ask to let go of what no longer serves us.  It was a special day and I call on it often for strength

---------

I know I've been silent here.  I've also been silent on e-mail's and I apologize.

Like I said in my first sentence, seems like so much, yet so little has happened this past month.  On the so much end of things, I am doing so well at the bone marrow clinic, that I get my catheter taken out on Thursday (the three-pronged port they surgically put in my chest that has kept me from having a proper bath in 2 months...).  Next Wednesday, the 13th I have my discharge appointment from the bone marrow clinic and will go back to being followed by my regular oncologist!!  Which means I can drive again (even though I can't go anywhere in public), and I won't have to be babysat 24/7!!  I am being discharged 10 days earlier than expected, so we are thrilled about this.  I am still not allowed to be in public places until 100 days post transplant (June).  uugh...

Because of my progress, I haven't had to go into the clinic the past two weekends so we headed up to the mountains to get healing of the best kind there.  Relatives visited both weekends and I felt the most alive I've felt in two months while there.  I hiked the mountains, and even though it tired me out, I did it and it gave me hope for my body.

Other victories...I am eating better now, even though my taste buds are still making most things taste either bland, or a hint of the food flavor laced with vinegar, or absolutely disgusting.  I am taking my supplements which I am hoping will help in the recovery process.

I am napping less (really not at all), and generally feel my energy level slowly inching back. I am walking every day.   Nausea is improving, yet still ever present.  I feel like once I can get this under wraps my motivation for doing anything will get better.  I never realized how debilitating nausea was.

Now for the slow part of this past 30 days.  Well, it really can all be summed up into one thought...I am ready to be healed.  I am ready to rejoin the world, feel healthy, get on with my life.  I am ready to be scanned again and hear the doctor say you are in remission.  And the fact is, I won't get my wish right away.  I have to wait.  I have to go through these next months in seclusion and heal.  It takes time.  It takes time.  It takes time.  But I am hoping that with each minute I'll get a little better so that soon my brain will ask me for books to read, and my soul will crave meditation and qi gong and I will remember what it feels like to tap into the energy of the heartbeat of the universe, and my creativity will blossom and I will do all these things I have in my head to do that are merely being held captive by my fatigue, poor attention and laziness.  I welcome dreams of healing retreats and helping others.  The chemo crystals just need to cracked and be set free.  The good news is, there is movement, and that is the best I can hope for right now, right?

Okay, and so as long as I am sharing all this....I've also come to realize that I am living in a totally selfish world right now.  Because of my seclusion and the intensity of my treatment and my caregiving, everything revolves around me, and with that realization I almost got sick to my stomach.  All of our conversations surround how I feel, what is next, what are my counts, who will watch me, what do I need,  etc. etc. etc....Even this blog perpetuates it.  I am stuck in an Eve world and am too fatigued to get out of my head and out into the world (even from seclusion).   That was a big awakening and I am hoping these coming weeks will give me strength and mental focus to shift the course of this ship.  I think that is why I have enjoyed the small amount of visitors I have had, and the weekends with relatives at the cabin.  I get to get out of my world.

Well, that's what I have for you today.  Happy day 30!  I am happy to be alive.  And I have a lot of life left in this ole gal.   It is a beautiful spring day today, and our neighborhood is bursting with color.  All the windows are open and I am sitting here with my sweetie.  This moment is a good one.   Here's hoping you all a good moment...this one, and the next, and the next...

It's Springtime!

Brian Cole made this for me!! It is called "Stem Cell"  Notice the jail cell he made for the stems.  Brilliant!!!  

We made it through the winter folks!  I remembered thinking way back in early December when I started this whole process that I was grateful that I'd be going through this during the winter, and how wonderful it was that I would be coming out of it in the Spring.  Spring is a time of rebirth and growth.  It makes me happy.  And that is just the kind of medicine I need right now.   I need to remember though that Spring means growth...it doesn't mean grown.

Mom has been keeping a journal on her calendar of everything we've gone through since starting this journey at the bone marrow clinic in January.  She read it to me today as I was lying on the couch completely exhausted and wondering if this was ever going to end.  After she finished reading off every day for the past two months I thought, WOW, we have been through SO MUCH.  It is really unbelievable.    She's even been noting things like if I've walked for the day, or if I've gotten blood products, or even if I've done a happy dance, or worn a bra (finally put one on on day 8 at the hospital...we saw it as progress....), or felt an interest in playing words with friends.  (She is probably going to write down that I wrote a blog post today, because I haven't felt like doing this in a long time).

So, let's start with the good news.  I am out of the hospital and my mouth sores are all healed.  Hallelujah!!  I haven't been on pain meds since last Friday.  My labs look better than they have looked in a couple of months!!! My absolute neutrophils, a sign of how well my body is engrafting the stem cells, look great, within normal range.  All of my red blood cell markers are normal...meaning I am not anemic...something I have been since starting ICE back in December!!!  My white blood cells are hanging in there....waivering between normal and just barely low.  Platelets are normal and growing in number everyday.  My liver and kidney function are normal.  The clinic has decreased my IV fluid to one bag instead of two, meaning 3-hours less in this clinic everyday.  The best news is that we hear I might start going to every other day starting as early as this Friday!!!

So we are making good improvements.

I need to keep reminding myself of all of these improvements when I start to get down about the things that aren't moving as quickly as I'd like.  Namely I have no energy.  Zip, zero, nada, none.  I sleep all the time and when I am not sleeping I feel like doing nothing else.  I am walking a mile every single day, albeit very slowly.  I've lost 12 pounds since transplant, and while you think this big lady would be jumping for joy, I'd be much happier if it didn't leave me feeling like a shell of a person.  My face is sunken in, dark circles under my eyes, cracked, dry lips, no eyebrows or eyelashes.   I look rough, and not healthy at all.  I started to tear up when I got out of the bath the other day seeing how bad I looked, and Michael told me I looked beautiful.  And I cried and hugged him more.  And then he said you should have seen yourself last week, you look much better than you did then!  haha.

I am not eating very much.  My appetite is really poor, and nausea is ever present.  Mom and Michael are keeping me eating at least some good protein shakes with lots of nutrients supplemented in them.  Michael put a bunch of nuts in my most recent one which was a good idea to get some good protein and fat.  They are bribing me...saying if I drink my shake then they will give me a foot massage.  And that works :)  I am eating bone broths made with love by Pat and Becky whom I am forever grateful for.  Mom meticulously froze in individual portion sizes the food that the chef made for me the week of the transplant, so I am trying to get some of that food down, although solid food is a bit cumbersome and I don't have much interest in it.

So I've had a few pity parties the past couple of days about why me and blah blah blah but I cry it out and then move on.  

On a lighter note...I am typing this at the clinic and in walks my friend who I met when I first got here.  She is a very similar case to me....Hodgkins in the same areas as me, 10 ABVD, remission, and then relapse within 3 months just like me.  She is about 35 days ahead of me and today is her discharge day!! She is looking GREAT and says she feels better than she's felt in as long as she can remember.  I needed to see that encouragement today.  And, I just got my labs back from today and everything looks even better than yesterday.  WBCs, RBCs, hemoglobin, hematocrit, platelets, neutrophils, liver, kidney all within NORMAL range!!  yippie!  So we have hope.  My body will catch up....

And lastly, I never posted about my stay in the hospital, but I wanted to send a bundle of thanks to those of you who made the extra effort to make me feel loved.  To my visitors, you brightened my day, thank you Linda, Michaelle, Becky, Patty, and Karen and Brian.  To all those who e-mailed me, thank you, your letters were read and I hope you forgive me for not writing back.  To Metametrix, Amanda and Mark, Bonnie and Rob, Karen and Brian, Deana and Milburn for sweet gifts to lighten the soul.  To my women's circle for skyping me in, what a bright shining light in my day.  Rin, Chuck and Dawn, your daily check-ins and love, and skyping were so nice and made me feel so loved. I can't believe I lucked out to have such great inlaws.  And to my loving parent's who visited, cared for me, loved me, walked with me, kept me company, bathed me (mom), you are the best.  And last but certainly not least, my dear sweet husband who suffered three overnight stays with me despite the incessant beeping of the pumps, the constant interruptions, and the hourly trips to the bathroom, you are my light, my love.  You worked all day, and stayed with me every night.  You have proved time and time again you are in this with me for the long haul and I sometimes feel like I am the luckiest person on the planet that I found you to walk through life with.  I look forward to happier times when we can frolic and play and live life to the fullest.

Karen and Brian's visit :)