transplant video

David showed this video to his class on Wednesday. I think the topic was stem cells. He told me a few of his students were in tears after. It seems like an 'old' video to me now. I re-watched it. No tears. Just a weird feeling of "Really? When did all this happen?"

we love mins too

We arrived home this afternoon, a lonely cat mawowing mawowing. Some pictures of Mins today, because we love him too.

Oh, and it`s not quiet anymore. David`s chattering about a new game he`s made up called `uncover the boots`, which is basically him burying my new purchase in unfolded laundry. He figures I`ll have to clean up if I want to find my new shoes. Ha. Wrong. I just moved the pile of laundry off the boots. Foiled.

walk for leukemia

Sunday night. It’s quiet. Cleaning the house has turned towards more interesting endeavours for both of us. David on one computer, I on another. Earlier I put on the new band that I liked, again, and David finally said it’s growing on him. I suggest `every man for himself dinner` which prompts a high ten from David. We eat alone, whatever we want. Every man for himself dinner is a rare occasion, but a hit in our house nonetheless, mostly because we don`t have to think about what to make, don’t have to plan an elaborate meal for two. 



Our elephant joins us. Elephant cookies were handed out
at the walk. Just a weird coincidence.

 Last night was “Light the Night”. We made the trip over to Vancouver to walk with friends and family. In the last two weeks David’s ‘dog named leuk’ team raised $1650 for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. As the donations continued to come in I’m not sure we knew what to think. We started wondering if we could make the minimum recommended 100$. We ended completely overwhelmed with support. Thank you, thank you, thank you. To everyone who’s helped us so far. And for David and I, walking with Mom ,Dad, Kertis, Marina, Alexis, Amaia, Blue, Shirley, Ross, Bev and Andy was an honour. The night became so busy I think we forgot about leukemia for awhile, which was good because when David and I arrived early, alone, we were caught up in emotions we try not to get so caught up in most of the time. 



For Shelby and Chad. And everyone.

We spent a moment before the walk… before our team arrived. David writing Shelby and Chad’s names on a wooden heart and placing it in a plant, in memory. We didn’t know them well, but we know they were the same as David. Lives shortened by unforgiving disease. We wish they were still here, beautiful people, this walk is for them.

Leuk tolerated his angel costume like a champ – sorry for the embarrassment Leuk, but everyone seemed to get a kick out of it – and he pulled David through the walk like a mini-truck. Weaving amongst walkers, planting wet Leuk-kisses on babies and trying to launch himself at the occasional low flying balloon. I lost the whole group within seconds attempting to take pictures in impossibly low light, with a broken lens. Catching up, falling behind and running to catch up to our team, fragmented in the crowd.

The walk seemed to be over in an instant. We weaved through Stanley Park, a crystal clear Vancouver twinkling across the water. A parade of illuminated white, red and yellow balloons snaking along the seawall. A beautiful sight, on a gorgeous night.

White for survivors, red supporters and yellow in memory. I wish there were no yellow's and more white's.

More pictures here...

light the night

David and Leuk walk for leukemia

sunday night

Peach vodka from the back of the fridge. Sparkling water and a spash of lime. My favourite band playing in the living room. Helping me forget that it’s Sunday night. Mins sleeping curled into a box of electrical leftovers from the attic pot light installation. Leuk napping outside, his nose pressed against the door. An irobot clean floor. And on the deck, a new doghouse nestled under the kitchen window. Half-clad in beautifully installed cedar shakes. For everyone that thought the day would never come – well, they were wrong - it did. Leuk’s turning one this week J He’ll have a cosy abode for his second winter.

I’m leisurely making dinner, David in the back room. Preparing tomorrow’s lecture, a little reluctantly tonight. As I walk from the living room to the kitchen I pass a letter sitting on the edge of the banister, enveloped and ready for a stamp. I get a little emotional thinking about its contents, knowing that when it finally hits the mailbox reality may be able to find us. In the letter, David releases his personal information. If David’s donor agrees, they will be able to contact one another.

A chance to say thanks. That’s all we want. To say that the difference you made in our lives will never be forgotten.

super hero

Yesterday was one of those days.... All I wanted to do at the end of the day was go home, sit down, play on the computer. Not talk. I was outside throwing a stick for Leuk when David got home, earlier than I was expecting, just a few minutes after me. He had plans of a walk on the beach, dinner out. I said maybe sometimes people just want to stay home instead. He didn’t buy it. We went to the beach.

I was reluctant until we arrived. Pulling into the parking lot and getting out of the car, the ocean air hitting my lungs, drawing me toward the shoreline. It was crisp, cool and everything looked perfect in the fading light. We wandered along the rocky beach, littered with sun bleached driftwood, towering Garry Oak trees winding their way along the shore, outcrops of tiny sedum, David’s favourite, clinging impossibly to the cliffs, their tiny stomata breathing the sea’s air. I took pictures, the dog paddled around and around and around, searching for rocks hidden beneath the water's surface, eating seaweed. David left me to my camera. A good selection of birds to chase from shore to try and capture with my new lens. The last light of the day clinging to the North Shore mountains across the straight.

After, we went to Costco, bought food for the dog and a robot vacuum for us. We had macaroni and cheese casserole for dinner. We watched a new episode of the Office, pvr-ing through the commercials. I told David I was happy now, and that he was my super hero. He smiled, cause he knows that he is.

Thanks for getting me through this day and showing me again, life.

cows

After a rough morning, I found this:
http://www.lightstalking.com/cows
So I feel better now.

vancouver in a day

It’s quiet. It’s 9:00. The automatic sliding doors open and close, open and close as tired passengers float in and silently sit. I’m in the ferry terminal waiting room. Taking the time to write and think about the events of the last twenty-four hours. Where’s the ferry? I thought I would miss it, or it would be really close anyway. Two hours prior, breaking off a conversation with Mike, Damian’s dad, “I really have to go. I have to catch a ferry“. I’m a ferry person. Mike would understand, and if he didn’t, it didn’t matter anyway. I needed to catch the ferry. It was the last of the night. Missing a ferry is like watching your home float away without you. And I didn’t want to be stranded or homeless tonight. Still, I couldn’t completely shake the homeless feeling today, walking around with my toothbrush and an extra pair of underwear in my pocket.

I take a sip of my cafe mocha I got from the coffee shop across the street a few minutes ago. The purchase, really an excuse to waste time. The sweetness of the chocolate hitting first, before the bitterness of the coffee settles in. I savour the first sip. Gulp the second. I had to run for the bus earlier, happy to catch it, transferring effortlessly to the skytrain, delivered downtown in minutes. Without a watch I worried a bit about the time, finally asking someone at the bus stop. Looking up, a second later and noticing a large clock on a tower, towering. It was 8:00, I was cutting it close. If the bus came now, I might make it. The big arm of the tower clock creeps forward, six minutes pass. Finally, a bus. I note as I board the absence of the word EXPRESS. But it does indicate a destination - Horseshoe Bay. I board crossing my fingers that I would arrive in time. Nervous as we weave slowly through a seemingly endless tangle of affluent neighbourhoods in West Vancouver. I was sitting near the front. I overheard the driver say he was early, that it was 8:43. How close were we to Horseshoe Bay? I couldn’t tell. We rounded another corner, and through the trees I saw Horseshoe Bay shining in the distance. Lights from the tiny community glittering smudges reflected off the water. I bought my ticket. What? 9:35 sailing?! That seemed like forever far away. I was tired, I wanted to be home. I thought the ferry was at 9:00, I hadn’t even bothered to check before leaving Damian’s house.

The last twenty-four hours had been busy. Ferry, bus, skytrain, bus. A night out, a concert. A night away, a bed in a room, in a house of memories. The next day, driving. Vancouver-New West-Richmond-Vancouver-New West-Vancouver. Shopping, lunch with Mom. Bus, skytrain, bus, ferry – in reverse.

It’s Damian’s birthday today, and so Damian, Happy Birthday. I’m happy I got to see you for a few minutes. I hope you had a good day, ‘cause I think you deserve it. And also, I’m happy we’re friends and that we never have to talk about pedicures or jewellery – except for maybe the occasional conversation about watches. And that’s all I have to say, because the rest doesn’t seem to fit well into words right now.

I’m on the ferry now as we rumble across the straight in darkness. The tea water in my mug shuddering as we bounce on along the surface of the ocean towards home. It’s only been a day but I miss my David, my Leuk and Mins too of course. Vancouver, a welcome break from the doldrum of Nanaimo, but I look forward to home.

the elephant sleeps

We stayed home. The elephant slept. Actually I locked him in the spare bedroom. But he contently napped. I checked on him.

David spent the weekend in the attic, and by Sunday night, we had light in the kitchen. Glorious beautiful light, from the little pots in the ceiling that had only just recently been holes that let the dry cracking attic darkness filter into the kitchen. We taped them up in the summer to stop the hot gusts of splintered attic air dust from infiltrating down. The old kitchen floor, now illuminated, yellowed linoleum, curling slightly at the edges, begging to be torn out, looks worse than ever before. One step at a time.



I spent most of the weekend on the computer, escaping briefly to capture a few pictures in the morning light. The light dancing as it sparkled off the dew on the plants in the garden outside, me kneeled in the dirt in my pyjamas attempting to get a shot in focus, as close as possible. When I was done, I took my pyjama bottoms off in the basement to prevent tracking dirt though the house, reaching the top of the stairs, bottomless, as David emerged from the bedroom. He glances at me, away, and then back again, looking me up and down. In a slightly inquisitive tone: “What were you doing?”  I respond, “Taking pictures outside.” “Of yourself?” he says. “No, of plants.” “Oh, ok.” And he shuffles past, making a bee line to the coffee maker. He confirms again hours later – “You were wearing pants this morning? Outside?” “Yes,” I say “they got dirty”. “Oh, just checking, we have neighbours you know.” “I know, don’t worry I’m not that crazy girl.” Or at least I don’t think I am.

I promised Leuk a spa day, but didn’t carry through. No bath, no nails clipped. Leuky spa day – deferred . He did bounce around the beach in the rain, oblivious to the pouring rain. Chasing the ball deep into the lake. Alone in his bliss. Me, in mine. He probably liked that more than getting his toenails clipped anyway.

The other highlight. I found, or more accurately, re-found, two pennies. One in my winter jacket, now out of hiding, and one in the washing machine, shiny from its trip around and around and around. I put them both in the bathroom, set into the bottom lip of a picture frame, beside three others. The first in the row, all battered and bent, I found outside the hospital on the day of David’s transplant. I’ve been picking up pennies ever since, although with varying frequency. It’s always an exciting moment, to be walking down a busy street and spot a penny. Stop, bend down, pick it up, feel it in my hand. Look around, why didn’t anyone see this? Why didn’t anyone pick this up? I know the two I found this weekend were from some other time, and place, that I had slipped into my pocket to be remembered at some later date... A bit of luck, re-emerging when least expected.

I didn’t look at pictures from a year ago, I didn’t think about what happened, I didn’t listen to music or watch a video that might remind me. Like I said, the elephant slept. David looks good, he didn’t get my cold, and finally I’ve stopped coughing so we’re not cordoned into separate areas of the house, at least not forcibly.

I told David it was the best weekend ever. And I meant it. I guess that later date is now. Thanks, for the luck, pennies.

the elephant complains

Leukemia had two complaints last week.

One I received at work, in the morning. A phone call. Panic in the elephant’s trunk muffled voice: “I had an episode. I couldn’t see... it just lasted a moment. Everything was white. I’m scared.” This after a recent increase in comments about blurry vision, difficulty seeing.

No elephant eye doctors in Nanaimo. Arranged is an appointment at the VGH eye center. Scheduled for a few weeks from now, that’s good.

The second complaint, also in the morning. I was on my way out the door to work. From the bedroom: “I have stomach cramps. It’s intense. I don’t know if I can get up.”

We had fish and chips from a local greasy spoon for dinner the night before. Turns out the elephant just ate too many fries.