Sunday, August 8, 2010


Dori returned home late yesterday afternoon. She cried on the way home, reflecting on the last month of hell she endured. Who wouldn't?

We then had to wait an hour at the pharmacy for seven meds. They only had four and we had to have one last night. After four phone calls and plenty of waiting, the needed medication was procured by someone special. Last night, my sister drove to the hospital to pick up and deliver to our house.

Dori spent last night in our oversized chair watching TV with Will, gobbling up chicken and rice (and an ice cream sandwich!), and telling our dog Pepper she missed him and loves him. I played some of her favorite songs, "Whenever I Call You Friend," among them. We love the line, "In every moment there's a reason to carry on," in particular these days. I tossed back some French rose and soaked up the scene.

Yesterday morning at the hospital, I rose before dawn for a run, my first in five days. I had considered a 10-miler with running buddies, but didn't pursue for two reasons - I needed to be with Dori and I'm not in good enough shape to jump to that mileage and have a sane day. Yesterday included plenty of packing, unloading and cleaning.

So I ran 4.5 glorious miles in the best weather we've had in a month. A cold front dropped the humidity and temperature into the high 60s. I couldn't help but think the relieving conditions were commensurate with Dori's pending hospital discharge. I returned to Dori's room before 6:30, and began the all-day process of checking her out of prison, I mean, the hospital.

Dori is a favorite of the nurses and care partners, because she treats them the way they deserve ... like superstar royalty. I cannot imagine Dori or I getting through this marathon without their support. They just know how to keep patients like Dori and caregivers like me moving forward, and they rose to the occasion at some tense moments, particularly when Dori was blacking out and flashing some feisty GVHD-related rashes. The best of America works in the hardest of environments, and we are fortunate because of it.

We're in the clinic this morning, and they are just as solid here. One of the nurses said, "So you were upstairs for 30 days. Wow." Another just said something similar.

Yes, wow. But for now, some welcome freedom has been restored.

1 comment:

PJ said...

Welcome home, Dori. Keep eating that chicken!