photo dump!

a couple of months in a couple of photos (in no particular order):

Xanadu

Dorothy

Bombay

 My Ophelia has adapted very well to all the changes. She is in love with the outdoors, and has become a playful kitten all over again.

 (This is Ophelia's first experience with snow. We didn't get a lot more snow the rest of the season).

I finally (and to my relief) found Christmas photographs:

Christmas Eve on Salt Spring Island at James' Family Farm

Christmas Morning

James and I love to make fresh pasta for dinner. It does not take a lot more time or effort, and it is worth every delicious bite. (Can you tell that James has gained some precious pounds)?

We made a factory load of Hamentaschen for Purim, and had a ridiculous amount of fun at a Beatles-themed Purim Party.

Those are some seriously healthy lungs. (Thank you, Heather Armstrong, for these gorgeous photographs).

We are finally at home in Victoria.

outside!

James went outside for the first time in nearly six months! We are so grateful for a very loving and dedicated ICU team. We will never be able to thank them enough! James was beaming with sunshine! o, the joy! We both glowed for hours and hours! Did I mention that James has been walking and participating in physiotherapy? He walked 20 metres on Thursday, 40 metres on Friday, and 120 metres on Saturday! I am bursting with excitement and future possibilities!

photos!

post transplant day six

so far

We have come so far, and it is hard to look back, but it an important reminder of James' progress and improvement. We have a world of gratitude for the exceptional medical care at Toronto General Hospital, and for a loving and supportive community of family, friends, and strangers. We only want to move forward. (Click photographs to enlarge).

love, love, and more love

dark days

We wait. We wait. We wait. Nothing happens. We must find a way to keep our spirits up. These feel like dark days. We need some light in our lives.

 

Edit: James has another Pseudomonas infection. There is a collapse in his upper right lung, and pneumonia in his left lung. He will be treated with chest physiotherapy and another round of antibiotics. He is also positive for a CMV infection. The team has not made a decision about anti-viral treatment. This is all within the realm of expectation for extended ICU hospitalization. We hope that James' fatigue and malaise will start to improve with treatment.

a day in the life

fighting hard

There are always small issues of of concern, but James continues to demonstrate strength and resilience. He has a lot of fight left in him. It is incredible to watch his body adapt to all these changes. The concerns do not linger long and are easily replaced with the next cause for concern. We don't worry to the same extent, because it is all beyond our control. We need to focus on that which is within our control. We rely on our trust in the team. James is receiving exceptional care. There is always something to find gratitude for (even though it can feel otherwise).

I feel the weight of my sadness. It is not the familiar darkness of depression, but an intense grief of uncertainties (for both the present and future). I have to ground myself in the moment, and prevent my mind from wandering between possibilities and outcomes. My exhaustion makes it difficult to write more. 

You can also get updates on Facebook.

I will leave you with some photographs:

(and some knits)

love love love

I love to watch James sleep early in the morning, with sun beaming in through the windows, and a sense of peace and calm in the room. He is so beautiful at rest. There are not enough words to describe my love for James. He has brought wonderful changes into my life. I am a different person, because of James.

I hold his hands in the quiet, watch the flutter behind his closed eyes, and remember all the moments of shared joy together. I ignore the beeping of machines and the constant flow of oxygen, and replace the sounds with memories of lying in our tent to the tune of the forest, or sitting on the beach and listening to the waves.

We have a lifetime of experiences to hold onto from only a few short years together. We are bonded in the trauma of it all, but also, in the light that we create for each other and with each other. We have truly learned to make the most of each day. Even now, James and I do not pass a day without love and laughter. We talk of gratitude and appreciation. These shared affections are not an act of desperation. My hopes are almost always high in James' presence. There is reassurance in each enduring moment. I believe there has to be more. We need more time. We deserve more time.

There can be a lot of dissonance between knowledge and emotion. That is, I cannot ignore my rational brain and the intensities with of my emotions, but I really do have a desire for hope and faith. I believe that James has a chance, but I struggle with all the uncertainties. Nothing is predictable. I suppose that has always been the case.

I am learning that, in love, I am vulnerable, and for each and every day that I get to sit by James' side and admire his sweet smile, it is worth all the pain and all the hurt. I am grateful for James. I am grateful for perspective.