Hi!

It’s been a year.

A wonderful, fantastical, fulfilling year.

I sold the big family home and moved to a sweet little three-bedroom ranch about a mile away. Room for the kids to come visit, but small enough that I feel cozy. Jeremy is still living with me, for now. I am the luckiest woman on Earth.

Jeremy was licensed as a barber here in Connecticut last May; baby sister Kate graduated from college and is working in her field as a wig designer sailing the seas on a cruise line; and middle sister Julia got her masters — and got engaged while we were visiting Montana last August!

Life, wonderful life, goes on.

Speaking of Montana, last fall, Jeremy decided to move there and continue his barber studies to become licensed out there and live in a landscape he loves. My only reservation has been access to healthcare, but I have faith that it will work out.

He was planning to drive out at the beginning of January ...

Instead, he had a setback in December and ended up spending Christmas on the liver ward at Yale. He had vomited blood from a bleed in his esophagus, and the docs found a couple varicose veins in there again. He ended up having a procedure to put a shunt into his liver to help divert blood around it, so that the blood wouldn’t puddle in the veins anymore. 

So, no Montana until he had more follow up this last month.

But now he seems better than ever.

Jeremy and I met with both his oncologist and liver doc last week.  Dr. Isufi (I think this makes lucky number seven cancer doc) said words I thought I would never hear: “Three years out from recurrence; I am pretty confident the Hodgkin’s is not coming back.” 

Wait. What? But I thought the chemo regimen they gave him was not “curative”?

Said she: “Hodgkin’s is very curable. And if there is no recurrence in two years, there hardly ever is.”

So, imagine that. The Hodgkin’s cured!

He’s the 19th survivor with this liver condition. (And now he and I need to make an appointment to get tattoos. Remember, I promised him I would get one if he beat this thing. Mine is going to be a teeny tiny XIX — Roman numerals for 19.)

Wow. Wow. WOW!

Let me say that again. CURED.

Wow. Wow. WOW!

I always imagined such a doctor’s visit would be that time for the GIANT EXHALE. I was elated, but I’ve also learned, after four years, to never totally relax.

Onto the next visit — with his liver specialist.

Dr. Liapakis is the one doctor who has been with Jeremy since the very beginning four years ago. I cannot even begin to tell you what a support she has been. 

While she was happy to hear of Dr. I’s proclamation, she strongly suggested that Jeremy consider going ahead with a live-donor transplant when he is eligible to be reviewed by the transplant board in May. Although his liver condition is much improved, the scarring is beyond repair. She feels that he is young, and will need the transplant eventually, so perhaps it is best just to get it over with.

Of course, that would put off Jeremy’s move to Montana.

He desperately wants to go. And who can fault him for that? He’s hoping he can just live with things the way they are. 

Just. Live. 

And I support his decision. Wholeheartedly.

So, he has a list of dates he needs to arrange for procedures and scans for follow up with unknown doctors out in Big Sky Country (where the nearest transplant center is at least a ten-hour drive away — deep breaths!)

It’s a giant, beautiful, brave leap into ... a life! And I am bursting with pride for him — and for all three of my kids. After all, we’ve taken a lot of leaps the last couple years — and it turned out OK.

Here’s to cured.

Here’s to living.

Here’s to you, Jeremy, Julia and Kate!