I Have Just Enough*

This has been a long winter.  As I was looking through the pictures of our Salt Lake City adventure, I realized the first photo of heavy snow was taken on November 22nd. Today is the last day of February and it still looks as if winter will never end.  Add isolation and anxiety to being housebound in the winter and you’ve got a good recipe for depression. 

The last of our winter supply of optimism seems to have been spent as we wait for the results of Roger’s 100-day tests.  When I look to the future and realize the enormity of the challenge still ahead of us, I doubt that I can do it.  I’ll never have enough time and energy to work full-time and take care of Roger and solve all the problems that we will surely face.  

As honest as that is, that kind of thinking is not helpful to me or to anyone else.  It is more pragmatic and constructive to keep the future in its proper place and deal with the here and now.  I know I have just enough optimism – just enough of everything I need – to get through today.  Tomorrow I’ll have just enough for one more day, and the next day, one more.  It's too overwhelming to try and tackle the rest of our lives in one bite, but I think I can handle it one day at a time by acknowledging that I do have just enough.

--Candi

*credit for the concept of “just enough” goes to Kathryn Cramer,  from How To Stay On Top When Your World Turns Upside Down.  I read the book in 1990, during another of life’s crises that I thought I might not survive. 

The Academy Awards

What the stars will drink at Elton John's Oscar Party

As you’re breathlessly awaiting the 83rd Academy Awards ceremony, you’re probably asking the question of the year:  “Who will celebs Roger and Candi Merrill be wearing on the beige carpet this evening?”  Rumor has it, the couple will swath themselves from head to toe in JC Penney.

His and hers bathrobes are all that.  Candi’s form will be draped with an elegant white floor-length number in fleece, famed for it’s warmth and washability.  Fur-lined slippers and a sofa pillow are the perfect accessories for her evening look.  Roger’s signature pale complexion will be offset by a classic black waffle-weave, tuxedo-cut robe layered over flannel pajamas.  His genius ensemble is simple and right for any occasion, stepping out with the Merrill’s circle of friends, or staying in.

How the couple manage to look so freaking radiant in their living room is cause for speculation, if not downright concern.  Nonetheless, they will be watching television and making their Oscar picks via their Academy Awards Printable Version Ballots downloaded from the internet especially for the occasion. 

While Elton John serves Red Carpet Cosmos and Golden Truffle Cocktails to a who's who of A-listers into the wee hours of the morning, the Merrills will enjoy a cup of hot cocoa and retire early.   

The couple has been quoted as saying “You can copy our look, but you can’t touch our style.”

Cheers!

Are you kidding me?

I groaned audibly when I opened the blinds this morning and saw this outside our window.  The snow has continued coming down all day.  It just goes on and on. . .

 

I can't seem get a photo of the birds, but there are about 20 or 30 regular visitors to our feeder.  It started with a small group and now includes their families and extended families, including distant relatives from out of state.  The news about free food sure gets around.  When it snows the birds are more frantic than ever to eat.  Maybe they eat out of boredom like I do.

--Candi

Now We Wait

Roger survived a full day of being weighed and measured, poked and prodded, drilled, punched and pinched. He had paper put into his eye sockets to see how much moisture was in there.  (I know, right?!?)  He breathed into tubes and got whacked with a hammer.  They took so much blood, I wondered if it didn't defeat the purpose.   

This day was about evaluating whether or not any Graft Versus Host Disease is occurring (perhaps, but if so, it's slight), whether or not there are any remaining leukemia cells (too soon to tell), what percent of the cells inside his bone marrow are his and what percent are his brother/donor's (no results yet, but we learned a new vocabulary word: chimera*) and the day was largely about teaching us what to do and what symptoms to watch for when we go home.  Once we're outside the 10-minute-to-the-transplant-center perimeter, we'll have to be more aware and more self-sufficient. I want to you to know I've got permission to pinch Roger.  No, in fact, I've been instructed to pinch him.  This is my big chance, probably my only chance, and I intend to take full advantage.

And, we have some homework.  Roger has lost a couple more pounds and so this week, we will redouble our efforts to get him to eat, eat, eat.

Test results won't be in until next week.  So now we wait.
--Candi

*Chimera: two or more different populations of genetically distinct cells.

How Does This Thing Work?

We haven't used an alarm clock in weeks, perhaps months, but it will be set for tomorrow morning.  Instead of Roger's regular weekly appointment, the clinic called and asked us to come to the hospital early and plan to stay late.  Roger will be repeating all the same tests he had in October, plus a bone marrow biopsy.  These are the 100-Day tests, 8 days early.  Does this mean they will find leukemia cells in his bone marrow?  Or, does it mean he'll be released next week and we'll get to go back to our life?  You can bet we're on the edge of our seats.

We debated whether to share this much information on the blog, since we don't know anything definitive yet.  But, it's important that you understand this is part of the experience: the lobbying to try and make things happen, the waiting, the wondering and the worrying. 

It will seem like a long weekend, waiting for those test results to come back.  As soon as we hear, we'll pass the information along.  tick. . . tick. . . tick. . .
--Candi

I Remember Saltair

A hand-colored postcard of Saltair, circa 1900

I remember as a young boy growing up in Salt Lake City taking the train out to Saltair for a day of fun in the sun. The scene was surreal. The main attraction was a carnival-like boardwalk with carneys, booths and rides very much like a state fair.  Looming ominously over everything was a giant, wooden rollercoaster.  Swaying in the wind, extending out over the lake, this notorious deathtrap of metal and wood was definitely old school. In fact, it was eventually judged to be a threat to public safety and closed down.

As kids, we were entertained with delicious stories about how, from time to time, passenger cars actually flew off this high-speed ride, crashing into the lake and of course decapitating many innocent patrons.  Saltair did offer a legitimate beach, complete with sunbathers lounging beneath beach umbrellas or bobbing serenely in the lukewarm, still, gray waters. The saline level is so high in this lake that it is actually impossible for a swimmer to sink. But we didn’t go there to swim or even for the death-defying roller coaster. The real fun was in exploring the deserted, decaying pavilion. With its exotic, onion shaped towers and ornately carved windows this dark, mysterious structure looked like something out of Doctor Zhivago. The interior space was dim and huge, the only illumination coming from shafts of natural light that poured in from high ceiling windows that rimmed the towering domed ceilings. Flooding lake water had caused the dance floor to buckle so that slabs of concrete protruded up in haphazard angles like a frozen river of jagged ice beginning to fracture and float away.

--Roger

A view of Antelope Island from Saltair

Roger took me on a little road trip today to see the famous Saltair resort.  The building is now used as a concert hall and the amusement park is long gone.

Saltair was originally owned jointly by the Mormon Church and the railroad, both of whom could see the advantage to keeping Salt Lake City weekenders and their money close to home and to attracting god-fearing vacationers from miles around.  The resort offered swimming, concert performances, the world’s largest dance floor and a chance for closely supervised mingling with friends.  Like the Disneyland of its day, Saltair was considered to be wholesome “family” entertainment, supervised by the church, while other lakeshore resorts were reported to be "spiritually bleak."  (That probably means you could buy a cup of coffee or a glass of wine at the other places.)

Saltair, as it looks today

The Saltair pavilion has burned and been rebuilt about once every decade and, with each incarnation, its grandiosity is somewhat reduced.  The lake itself has always been a problem, with receding and flooding water either leaving the resort high and dry and smelling like the stinky salt flats or flooding the building.

Throughout Saltair’s history, new investors have come along every few years thinking they might be able to make the resort viable where others had failed.  The building you see in the bottom photo was constructed in 1981 out of a salvaged aircraft hangar and located a mile west of the original.  Startling as Saltair is when you drive up to it, appearing to rise up out of nowhere, it is just a ghost of its former self.

Salt Lake City.  Interesting, and strange.

--Candi

P.S.  When cross-examined about his childhood experiences, Roger had to admit he never actually knew anyone that was beheaded or thrown into the lake from the roller coaster.

What Do Survivors Look Like?

Survivors of catastrophic events can choose to see their circumstances as an opportunity to reinvent themselves.  When the only alternative is to remain a broken human being, it becomes obvious that we must go forward.

The tricky part is how to get from here to there.  Over the next few weeks our goal is to prepare ourselves to go home to Missoula and to map our way forward into the next part of our lives.  Other people have survived and so we know it can be done.  It would be a bonus if, as we chart our own course, we could mark the path for someone else.

Here’s what our blog readers say about being a survivor:

In the short term:

•  Survivors re-establish a normal pattern of activity and rest. 
• Survivors pause to replenish the inner resources that have been used up: patience, optimism, energy, creativity, and humor.
• Survivors stay in the game.
• Survivors give themselves a break.
• Survivors deal with crisis first, emotions second.
• Survivors know that showing up is 80% of the job.  And they show up day after day.

In the long term:

• Survivors set goals and make plans for the future.
• Survivors are in charge of themselves.
• Survivors maintain connections with other people.
• Survivors are comfortable with the paradox of danger/opportunity.
•  Survivors feel challenged, not threatened.
• Survivors have complex and sometimes contrary feelings at the same time.  They are both selfish and unselfish.
• Survivors don’t see themselves as victims.
• Survivors learn from their experiences.
• Survivors don’t waste time asking “why is this happening?” but they do ask “what needs to be done now?”
• Survivors are intuitive.
• Survivors see a bad situation as an opportunity to emerge as a better person.
• Survivors see the in good every situation, especially in the challenging ones.
• Survivors outwit and outlast.
• Survivors have a reason to carry on: love, connection, and the need to help someone else.
• Survivors accept life as it is, and are willing to work to make it better.

Thanks all, for your contributions.  Now that we know what a survivor looks like, Roger and I know what we must become.

--Candi

Alone

Dulac's illustration of the poem Alone

Alone

From childhood's hour I have not been

As others were; I have not seen

As others saw; I could not bring

My passions from a common spring.

From the same source I have not taken

My sorrow; I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone;

And all I loved, I loved alone.

Then- in my childhood, in the dawn

Of a most stormy life- was drawn

From every depth of good and ill

The mystery which binds me still:

From the torrent, or the fountain,

From the red cliff of the mountain,

From the sun that round me rolled

In its autumn tint of gold,

From the lightning in the sky

As it passed me flying by,

From the thunder and the storm,

And the cloud that took the form

(When the rest of Heaven was blue)

Of a demon in my view. 

--Edgar Allan Poe

Edgar Allan Poe was depressed and probably an alcoholic and drug addict; not someone I look to for tips on how to live a happier life.  But I do like Edmund Dulac’s illustration of Poe's poem, Alone.  I can identify with that small person facing a big threat and struggling to keep control of his fear.

Six years ago leukemia came raging into our lives like a storm.  Six months ago it doubled back and we were caught in its path a second time.  In its wake, the storm left broken hope for eternal remission, financial ruin, weakened bodies, a sure knowledge that the future will be very different from what we had imagined, and an insecurity about our ability to face it.  How we do pick ourselves up and go on?  Roger and I are not heroic by any means, but we will go on, because we have to. 

About ten days ago, I asked our blog readers to send their descriptions of what a survivor looks like.  Tomorrow, I’ll share those observations.  You might be surprised to see some of your own qualities on the list.  We're all in this life alone, and we're in it together.  Hope springs eternal.

--Candi

Day 85 Clinic Report

February 17 - Salt Lake City has plunged back into winter

Candi and I just returned from the hospital. Today was my weekly, 2 hour checkup where they draw blood, monitor my blood pressure and temperature, oxygen levels and of course weight. They adjust my drug levels, inquire about symptoms and berate me for not drinking enough water. Today’s report was good, nothing out of the ordinary. The Physicians Assistant was new to us. His name is Steve and he is from Helena, Montana, so we got to talk about home. The bulk of the conversation however again centered on potential threats to my health. I’ve got to continue using the mask, particularly when the wind is blowing or when I’m in a crowd. He told a few frightening stories about how fast and devastating an infection can be for someone with a suppressed immune system. He emphasized the necessity of avoiding exposure to the sun and described how rashes and changes in skin tone can be early indicators of graph versus host disease, and that a sunburn can also trigger the disease. I think they are trying to prepare us for the long term nature of this recovery. I will likely be on some drugs for more than a year. I’m just beginning to get it.  Candi did a quick calculation and told me I wouldn't be doing any gardening until 2012.  It will be quite awhile yet before life returns to normal.  

--Roger

No News From the Merrills is Good News

We are doing our best to not be newsworthy.  Roger has a clinic appointment tomorrow, so we'll post our weekly health update then.   For now we are laying low.  He's been making art.  He's completed a dozen or so watercolors over the last month and has a few more in progress.

Work in progress

Roger's been forced by circumstances to work in a smaller scale and I, for one, couldn't be happier about it.  They are as beautiful as his gigantic paintings, and have that depth of color that makes them appear to change with the changing light throughout the day.  But these small watercolors have a more pedestrian feature that makes them more practical:  An average-sized home can accommodate them.  I know.  I'm ignorant when it comes to art.  What do I know?  ;-)
--Candi

Siberia

Turkey White Bean Chili

Here's another recipe for beans.  Honestly, we do eat other things, but bean soup is low in fat, high in protein and tastes good and, more importantly, it is one thing Roger can eat reliably even if his stomach is feeling sensitive, so it’s on our menu pretty frequently these days.  We make all types of beans and really enjoy the varieties for their unique flavors and textures.  I’ve been working to perfect some old recipes this winter.  My Turkey White Bean Chili is one that’s good enough to share.

If you use dry beans, start them simmering at breakfast time so they’ll be done in time for dinner.  For a quick soup, you can substitute 3 15-oz cans of white beans.  Personally, I don’t think canned beans have the same flavor, but they’ll do if you’re in a hurry.  Aside from cooking the beans, this soup comes together quickly.

We like to make a tropical fruit salad to go with this chili.  Fresh sliced mango, oranges and watermelon offset the heat of the chili nicely.

Turkey White Bean Chili

1 cup dry white beans

2 15-oz cans chicken broth

1 4-oz can diced fire roasted green chilis

½ cup + green tomatillo salsa (at the end of cooking, add more salsa to taste)

1 small package ground turkey (about ½ - ¾ lb.)

6 green onions

½ teasp cumin

½ teasp garlic powder

1/8 teasp crushed red pepper flakes

Toppings:

Fresh avocado, sliced

Fresh cilantro, chopped

Rinse the beans and pick out those that don’t look appealing.  Put them in your soup pot and cover with plenty of water.  Bring to a boil and then reduce to a simmer.  Cover the pot, turn the burner to low and let them simmer for 5-6 hours.  The only thing you have to do all day is check once in awhile to make sure they don’t boil dry.  It’s better to start with too much water; you’ll drain it off later anyway.  (It's okay to run errands while the beans cook as long as you're sure there is plenty of water in the pot.)

About 30 minutes before dinner time, assemble the soup ingredients.  Sauté the chopped green onion and ground turkey together in a large skillet.  Add a little of the chicken broth to the turkey to help break it up.  When the turkey’s cooked through, add the canned green chilis, ½ cup tomatillo salsa, the cumin, garlic powder and red pepper flakes.

Drain the beans and return them to the soup pot.  Add the chicken broth and the ingredients from the skillet.  Heat through.  Taste, and add more tomatillo salsa to taste.

When ready to serve, add the avocado and the cilantro to the top of each soup bowl.

--Candi

P.S.  I have a recipe for pinto beans that I know you'd love.  And there's Julie's Curried Lentils of course.  How much time have we got?

Beautiful and Funny

Happy Valentines Day!

Our daughter Taylor and son-in-law Rod sent these beautiful tulips for Valentine's Day.  Of course, the rules say Roger can't have flowers or plants because of potential contamination from mold, spores, and pollen. But they are too beautiful to give up and they work like a tonic on our spring fever.  So I put them outside on the patio just on the other side of the glass door.  Not only can we see them, they are on center stage.  It's a shame my camera can't capture the sunlight coming through the red vase. It acts like a prism and fractures the light so that it glitters and glows.

Roger shows off his new eyebrows

Roger's eyebrows have grown back.  We're not sure when that happened.   They just suddenly appeared today.  We're hoping some hair appears on his head tomorrow.  He's a serious goof ball.

In Fine Form

I sometimes run aground on self-pity, particularly on those occasions when it seems there is no way past it but to go through it.  But it's not a destination.  Self-pity is dangerous in the long run.  For the last couple of days I wallowed in it.  Now it's time to put it behind me and head for safer waters.

First, it's important to remember that the Bone Marrow Transplant Clinic's reluctance to release Roger is not due to any change for the worse in his condition.  He continues to improve, slowly and steadily and, for that, we are grateful.  The disappointment that we felt was caused solely by us, by an unrealistic expectation we created in our own minds that he would be discharged on a particular date.  Being told he's not ready to go home is perhaps a smack upside the head as a reminder that we must still be cautious.  Roger is not safe yet.  Okay, message received.

The second thing to note is this.  We are fighting for our life here, not just for survival, but a life that is independent and unrestricted. We will go along with the rules as far as needed to get Roger healthy and keep him safe.  When the rules serve only bureaucracy, that's another matter.  There's still some fight in us yet.
--Candi

Speechless

I never know if anyone reads this blog, aside from a handful who comment regularly, but it doesn’t really matter.  I’m positive that one more voice calling out from the vast internet sea doesn’t contribute to the world’s store of knowledge at all.  At the bottom line, writing it is a benefit to me, and to a lesser degree, to Roger.  The discipline of writing every day has added structure to my days, forced me to examine my feelings about it all and get to the truth of who I am.  Blogging has been an important outlet during a stressful time. 

I try to stay positive and do the work that needs to be done, but I’m not perfect by any means.  I get tired, impatient, and bored.  I feel sorry for myself as if leukemia was my burden alone and not Roger’s.  I have unexplained bad moods.  I berate myself for lacking the focus to concentrate for more than ten minutes on anything.  That’s cruel, but human.  I’ll bet if truth were told, we’d find we all criticize ourselves more harshly than we deserve. 

Yesterday the blog didn’t get updated.  I was so bummed, I couldn’t bring myself to write anything.  If you have been following our story, you know Roger is progressing well.  He’s feeling stronger and is getting antsy to go home.  He so wants to start packing boxes.  But it’s too soon, too soon.

Roger had his clinic appointment yesterday.  In a most charming tone of voice, the doc asked what we’d been doing.  Not realizing that was a trick question, we stepped right into the trap and told him we’d been to the movies.  Perhaps chastised is too strong a word, but we were subjected to a lecture on the foolishness of risking Roger’s health for the sake of seeing a movie.  Our hopes for living out our remaining weeks in Salt Lake City in a semi-normal way were dashed.  We were reminded that this is the most dangerous time in Roger’s recovery.  Because he feels well enough to be up and about, the temptation to go places, do things, interact with people, and generally act as if life is normal puts him at risk.  As long as he is taking immunosuppressant drugs Roger has to resist the urge to have a normal life. 

As if that wasn’t bad enough, the BMT clinic will not make any promises as to when he’ll be released to go back to Montana.  They’ll begin doing the follow-up tests on March 4^th, but they won’t talk about release until all the tests are completed and the results are in.  That could take an additional two weeks.  And then they’ll only release him if all the results are positive, and on the condition that he return to Salt Lake City once a week for an indefinite period of time for clinic appointments. 

Once a week???  You have got to be kidding me.  It’s a 9-hour drive between Salt Lake City and Missoula, how can it be possible to do that once a week?  You can understand why I was speechless yesterday.

A few weeks ago we joked about renegotiating our deal with the universe.  Survival is not enough.  The negotiations are open and as soon as I see that some concessions have been made, I'll be in a better mood.
--Candi

Detour

Life rarely proceeds in an orderly fashion.  It lurches forward and stubs its toe in the dark, hops, skips, howls and bumps forward again.

This past two weeks Roger's progress seemed to be sidetracked.  That growth on a lymph node in his neck had everyone mystified.  We were told it was not cancer, but it might be cancer.  It's not, but it could be.  It is cancer, but not a bad kind.  It's benign, definitely benign, at least for the time being.  We've seen the transplant team, the surgeon, an Ear, Nose and Throat specialist, and the transplant team again.  It seemed like every expert wanted to stall and defer to someone else.  The only thing they could agree on was that the mysterious lump should not have been there.

At this point in time, we are still unclear on exactly what it is, or what it was, but it seems to be benign.  Enough's enough; we're getting bored with it.  All waiting rooms look alike.  We're bored with reading the same magazines, filling out the same forms, answering the same questions and making what seems like the same phone calls.

It's really all okay.  When your mind is left idling over a situation long enough, it will go over the same crazy-making ground until it finally gets bored and moves on. Boredom is a sanity saving strategy.  We've moved on, and that beats the heck out of anxiety.
--Candi

There's No Place Like Home

It’s time to start planning to go home. March 4th will mark the 100th day since the transplant and according to medical protocols I can leave the protection of the hospital and head home to Missoula, Montana then. Candi and I both woke up this morning feeling homesick. We began sharing ideas about what was ahead when we suddenly realized there is much to do if we are indeed going to extricate ourselves in a little over 3 weeks. We have acquired a lot of stuff. In fact, we’re thinking of making two trips; the first a brief visit to deliver a car load of our belongings (but mostly for fun), and the real homecoming occurring as soon as we can get out of here with the 100-day blessing of the transplant team.

We're really looking forward to getting home and getting on with our lives.

--Roger

Imagine a World Without Cancer

Today is World Cancer Day. 

The Livestrong Foundation works to reduce the stigma associated with cancer, improve access to treatment and prevent unnecessary suffering from cancer. Today they offer a "World Cancer Day Quiz" on their website to help us understand the scope of the problem that will touch so many of our lives.

The facts and figures are nothing short of astounding, but I find question number 4 to be particularly disturbing.  Roger and I sometimes feel isolated and alone here in Salt Lake City.  And we are very lucky; we have each other; we have our blog, email, cell phones. . . we have an excellent support system, a world class medical team, great friends and family that keep us bound to our real world.  I hate the thought of anyone facing cancer alone.  Imagine a better way.  We have to start somewhere.

Take the World Cancer Day Quiz

Date Night

We went to a movie this afternoon!  That may not be remarkable for the average American couple, but it is for us. We haven't been out on a date since June.  That's when Roger left to work in Saudi Arabia.  Shortly after he returned in August we found out the leukemia had relapsed and since then, it's been all work and no play for the Merrills.  We're beginning to understand what it must feel like to be incarcerated.  We have to be really careful to avoid germs, (Roger wore his mask and gloves) but complete isolation can't be healthy either.  We saw the Coen Brother's film True Grit.  It was not too crowded and no one sat near us that was coughing and sneezing.

As we were tottering along, I realized we have become one of those funny little couples, holding hands and watching the world race past us at what seems like breakneck speed.  But, it was fun being out in the world, and who knows?  We might do it again.
--Candi

Shepherd's Pie: Peasant Food for a Cold Night

Roger is not into gourmet meals these days.  So I make comfort food in our little “make do” kitchen.  This is a slightly scaled down version of Shepherd’s Pie.  Ordinarily it makes good leftovers for lunch the next day, but in our circumstance I make a half recipe so there will be less waste.  It's simple peasant food, filling and homey on a brutally cold night like tonight.  It’s not quite as good as the Shepherd’s Pie from Sean Kelly’s in Missoula, but then, nothing is.

Shepherd's Pie

6 medium red potatoes, peeled and cubed

1/2 cup cream or half-and-half

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

1 small package of ground beef (just over a pound)

1 ½ cups frozen mixed vegetables

1 onion, chopped

1 clove of garlic

1 small can sliced mushrooms

2 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1 cup beef stock or broth

2 teaspoons Worcestershire

1 sprinkle sweet paprika

1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley leaves

Directions

Boil potatoes in salted water until tender, about 12 minutes. Drain potatoes and pour them into a bowl. Add cream or half and half and butter to potatoes and mash.

While potatoes boil, preheat a large skillet over medium high heat. Add oil to hot pan with beef. Season meat with salt and pepper. Brown and crumble meat for 3 or 4 minutes. Add chopped garlic, mushrooms and onion. 

Sprinkle flour over the brown ground beef mixture and stir it in.  Gradually add in broth and Worcestershire sauce.  

 Heat and stir 1-2 minutes until gravy thickens.

Use the saucepan the potatoes were cooked in to cook the frozen vegetables until tender.  Drain and set aside.

Preheat broiler to high. Layer the bottom of a small rectangular casserole with the each meat, mushroom and gravy mixture.  Spoon the vegetables over the top of the meat.  Add the mashed potatoes as the top layer.  Dot with butter and sprinkle with a little paprika.

Broil 6 to 8 inches from the heat until potatoes are evenly browned (about five minutes).

  Enjoy.

Day Seventy

I see we have incorporated a Gratitude Journal into the blog. Nice idea. It reminds me to publicly thank Candi for all she has done for me. From the very beginning, she has been an extraordinary partner. She stood shoulder to shoulder with me. Her courage has inspired me to face terror without blinking. She works harder than a Bolivian coal miner and her caustic humor never lets me indulge in self-pity for long.

Candi and Sophie taking a break from a do-it-yourself project, 2009

When we first started talking about the transplant I had no idea she would be able to take extended medical leave from the University of Montana. I began to heroically imagine going through the process in Salt Lake City alone with Candi visiting from Missoula only on an irregular basis. Silly me. I see now there is no way a person could go through this alone. There is just too much to do. There were times when I was virtually an invalid, times when I was frail and could hardly remember my own name. My wife was always there looking out for me. I don’t know how to thank someone for saving my life. I can only start by saying thank you Candi.

--Roger

February

It's February and although it's too early by several weeks to declare winter over, it's not to soon to sneak a peak at the garden magazines at the newsstand.  And it's not too soon to declare we have survived another winter. We look forward to new life and a new growing season.  This month Roger and I will take small steps toward the restoration of our life.  We're building strength and adding structure to our days as we prepare for re-entry.  We both have to think about returning to work.

We're beginning to formulate a picture of  what a life after transplant looks like.  Where do we go from here?  So we begin by looking outside ourselves for inspiration.  What do survivors look like?  What do they do?  How do they act?  Tell us survival stories from people that inspire you.  We'll compile a list and post it here in a week or so. 

Until then, we dream and plan.
--Candi