Author: alwaysbridging

Getting ready to board a red-eye to D.C. Will meet my sisters in Virginia for Farm Aid 41 then head to Richmond to bury my mother beside my father. I am weepy as I wait.

I wanted to be here today to see the oncologist with my husband. We’re thinking the pembromizulab might be contributing to his recurring foot pain. Besides he’s almost reached the two years of “no cancer” so best idea seems to be to pause the treatment and see if the pain simply goes away. I was stunned, having lived for years with this Stage 4 tag, half-expecting him to die any day. Maybe most people die with this diagnosis but not my man. Talk about whiplash. He’ll be ringing the bell soon at this rate. I’ll take it.

And Lord, who wouldn’t improve with this very tangible circle of All Goodness that surrounds us? As I was leaving the house, a friend called to fill in the last open evening for feeding Rob and our caregiver Sy while I’m away.

I even got a deep nap in the afternoon.

Who gets loved like this?

Today Rob was released from Acute Care At Home. Thank you, Jesus! Our field hospital is being returned to its unskilled nursing status (aka me), I am thrilled to say, because Rob is back to himself and feeling much better. They labeled him as an “inpatient” after a long day in Urgent Care a few days ago. We’ve had couriers bringing drugs and taking blood samples from our doorstep plus visiting nurses along with telehealth doctors available 24/7. All to address a stubborn, life-threatening infection.

In comparison, this has been a relatively gracious and peaceful hospitalization. For one thing, we have both slept well—deep and even long. Wow, what a concept—sleeping in a hospital.

I am flooded with gratitude, given the immense and necessary support as well as the web of prayers.

This picture reminds me of the last scenes in Braveheart when the dead show up among the living. Ok, I’ll admit it. Sometimes it’s like this for me. The other plane is that close. But usually I can’t illustrate the phenomenon. I can barely articulate it.

These days, from the decidedly unskilled nursing facility of my home, I am not surprised at all that I would be blessed with this photo memory. Yet another silver lining during this liminal time as my husband recovers.

Hard to believe I am inside on a gorgeous summer eve watching the home run derby live with my man. And loving it! Recovering from a cold. Accepting. Grateful.

The details are on Caring Bridge. My husband is relaxing here at home after a second hospitalization in a few weeks.

The hardest thing for me is the unknowns. What a lesson about loosening, not holding tightly to plans and expectations. Instead, I want to notice and appreciate the gifts that create this solid web of love and support holding us both.

Like when a friend stopped by and I got to jump on my bike and pedal a mile up and fly a mile home. Short and sweet. One of my favorite rides EV-er.

Here’s how Victor Hugo said it:

Be like the bird that, pausing in her flight awhile on boughs too slight, feels them give way beneath her and yet sings, knowing that she hath wings.

When Rob was discharged from the hospital 10 days ago to his own (decidedly unskilled nursing) home, I was certain he’d need visits from a bath aid. That slippery, dangerous place we call a shower was not going to be the monster that took my husband down after surviving emergency surgery and 12 days in the hospital—talk about a slippery and dangerous place!

Today he took shower #3 with me spotting as needed, using the shower chair we borrowed from the cathedral’s medical equipment closet.

We also had visits from both the OT and the PT. Having experienced the wonders of these professionals in the Birth-to-3 world, I was expecting similar magic on the elder side of things. They did not disappoint, bringing me practically to tears.

We finished our day with a dear friend, wherein she called us her son’s Godgrandparents. Teary again . Thanks to other friends, we feasted on a luscious meal, finishing with homemade apple pie.

All this to say, we are being held more lovingly than we could ask or imagine. Understatement!