Loving Deeply Gives you Strength

Hello friends and welcome to the liver blog. In honor of our wedding anniversary, 13 years tomorrow, April 30, I wanted to reprint something from the Care Pages, which was a way for so many of you to walk with us quite literally through the valley of the shadow of death. We will never ever forget that. One of my leadership classmates, my mentor, and an amazing woman, Lynae, says I should turn those care pages into a book. One day. Anyway, without further ado, here's one of the dispatches.

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Poisoned and Purified. We got to that place.

Bob is a polite patient, as I mentioned before. Like the English Patient. Body immobile, but all over with heart and soul. I have not been the model caretaker. No Juliet Binoche here, the actress who nursed the English Patient in that magnificent movie. When Bob was first getting sick, I was resentful. The naps were too long. The laundry was piling up. He couldn’t walk up to campus to see his bishop from NYC. I did the kids, dinner, dishes, homework, and bedtime. I was even keeping track. Eight days in bed, I remember thinking. I had no idea that counting days was the luxury of an illness that Bob did not have. Nor how completely small minded I was being.

When we came home after Bob’s first hospital stay in early November, I was so tired. I couldn’t even drive over to fill his new prescriptions. I just went to bed. And Bob had a scratch attack, of which I didn’t fully understand at the time. He came back to the bedroom, flipped on the light and asked where his medications where. ‘I’m just so tired, I can’t get them now.’ I went back to sleep. And I was mad. Later in the drug store, I called Bob on the cell phone and told him I was tired and trying my best. Give me a break. Over and out.

When I got home, he asked me to sit by him. With a shaky voice and watery eyes and the most contrite face you can ever imagine, he unabashedly apologized right into my core. I am so sorry. You are taking such good care of me and this is how I treat you. That was so wrong. I am so sorry. How can I treat you that way. After everything you’ve done for me. I am very, very sorry. I was terrible.

And I was transformed. I felt the full force of his poisoned body and his purified spirit.

Our relationship instantly became as sincere as it’s ever been. And it remains that way today. Actually, that’s how Bob and I feel about everyone now. All of you. One and all. Just so truly full of love. All the petty stuff is gone. The trivia just – puff – went away. When I am able to tell him any sort of good news, he is just genuinely happy. We both are. Josephine and Robby are having a baby boy. Beautiful. Lonn and Martha went to Duluth. That’s great. The basketball team is assembled. I’m so glad. The Rosa's family picture. That's gorgeous. Alternatively, Mom Speirs and I are careful in how we present sad news, because his grief seems more profound. Even for people he doesn’t know.

We are there. We got to that place in a marriage, a friendship, a relationship where you try so hard to get to but can’t easily find. Like a love song that you think doesn’t exist. Where you genuinely put the needs of the other person first. And you know its mutual. We found it in the dark. And I want to stay there when we get out of this cave.

Lately, the little red sores, the petechiae, which were previously head to toe, are almost gone. During a scratch attack, the petechiae would open and turn Bob’s back into a red plaid mess. Like he’s auditioning for a Mel Gibson movie or something. The fact that those horrible little things have mostly vanished is one of those good signs about which I keep reminding both Bob and me.

Bob’s skin seems to be moving to the next stage in that it’s exfoliating from head to toe. I’m also taking that as a good sign even as it really bothers Bob. Aveeno oatmeal scrubs ahoy. We’re gonna wash that jaundice right out of your skin. I use the imagery of a butterfly coming out of its cocoon. Of a body cleansing. Away with the old, in with the new life. Your body will soon be as whole as your mind and soul. Rebirth. Renewal. Resurrection.

Last night I talked with Fin, one of his basketball boys from church – the cute one eating pizza in the picture, sitting right next to Bob. He said that next Sunday is their first game and they’re dedicating it to ‘the Coach.’ Kids have a purity right from the start, at least the kids that Bob knows all seem to.

You are all beautiful. With love, T

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Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength. . .
. . .Loving someone deeply gives you courage. Lao Tzu

(One of the little sayings on the wall in the transplant unit at Mayo.)

Happy Anniversary Sweetie!!!!! :-) xoxoxoxoxox :-)