At the Alter of this Image

Let me tell you about this picture. It's the robust Bob, one year ago tomorrow. May 2006. At the Luther Seminary BBQ right after Baccalaureate service. Remember that, all you Speirs and Morks out there? You were all here.

But when I look at this picture I am transported to six months later, full moon December 2006, at the Mayo Clinic liver and kidney transplant unit, so very nicely outfitted with computers for the family. That's where I started the CoachSpeirs care page. It was just words that I spurted out to let everyone know what was going on and for my own release. People were so nice and forwarded the site to others. And soon this picture popped into my e-mail account. It was from our neighbor through the ceiling, Marc Ostlie-Olson.

"Thought you'd like this picture for the care page," he wrote.

I opened the file and just burst into tears right there in the transplant family room, like I'm doing right now, because, oh my God, if Bob could eat just one bite, ONE BITE, one half a bite, of what was on this plate. He had just vomited up jello a few hours earlier. He was a skeleton, barely making 1200 calories per day. When I opened up this picture file I realized that my original husband was gone and I grieved right there at the alter of this image on the screen. My current husband was emaciated, yellow, and couldn't think clearly. Like Alzheimer's. That was so scary that I didn't want to tell anyone, especially not Bob. Just kept noticing the signs of him losing his mind and quietly asked the nurse to chart them. I had read that unclear thinking is a sign of chronic liver disease, which we were hoping was only acute liver disease, aka temporary; as it turns out that's what Bob had, temporary but long running liver disease. Severe intrahepatic cholestasis to be exact. Along with his liver, kidneys, and appetite, so also was his brain shutting down. Indeed, we communicated very simply for a couple of months.

So, this picture is beautiful because tomorrow is it's one year anniversary and Bob is almost like this again. He went to hell. And I followed him into the dark. Many of you followed. And we all made it back together with a lotta help from our friends.

Anyway, this is my message to Marc and Patrick and Elieshi and to all of you who are graduating from Luther Seminary this weekend and to your families: You can't go! You can't leave us! You are a part of us! You own Bob's liver! This was way too intimate to just go away! We need you! If we stay, you gotta stay! No one will ever know Bob's liver the way you do! This is not fair!

There, got that out of my system. And now, I am barely composed. See why I blog? Just gotta get this stuff out or I'll burst.

The picture on the right is the "Spiritual Housekeeping" service that The Rev.-to-be Marc wrote and planned for us, involving all our neighbors. The Rev. Dr. Elieshi is here with him. About 30-40 people squished into our living room for that or at least it seemed that way. It was right after Bob's liver came back, February 2007. It was the most beautiful thing you could ever imagine. Marc said, 'be gone' to the bad spirit(s). He served up communion. He involved everyone. He preached that the Grace of God is bigger than death. He is correct.

On the theme of one year ago this graduation weekend, here is the Speirs-o-Brooklyn right after commencement. It was so joyful. And this weekend is joyful too. But in a waaaaay different way than I could have ever imagined.

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What can I say, it's a lovely day. I love yoga. Bob has a cold. My garden is not planted. We have a wonderful little surprise planned to thank our LWR volunteers. It was an amazing week at work. Almost time to pick up the kids from the bus stop. By the way, I'm bound and determined to be a more attentive wife and mother this weekend.

And I really should sign off now. Thanks everyone for coming over to the liver blog. It's so nice to have you here.

With love, T