Hearing the Ocean's Roar

When we last checked in with our plucky couple, they were about to tank up and take off for parts unknown; get away for a while to recharge the batteries and smell the roses. And they were very, very, aromatic.

Last Thursday, C went into the clinic and was infused with two units of platelets and two units of red blood cells. She left with a bounce in her step and a blush on her cheek. She looked like a vampire who has just dined.

Friday morning, she hopped on a plane and flew off to a long weekend as a guest at a beach house in North Carolina with the intention of spending the time on slow walks along the sand, a bit of sightseeing, and as much shrimp as she could stuff down. The flowers were in bloom and their scent filled the air. The nights were cool and the sound of the ocean waves sent her to sleep in her guest room high above the dunes.

This time was made all the more special because we did not know if we would make it. The week leading up to this was spent in unplanned trips to the clinic for infusions of blood products to both try to stem the internal bleeding that had developed and to replace the vital parts that had leaked out. There were some teary moments on the beach when we thought of how close we came to not being there. We felt like we were in a dream.

The house was something from another time when craftsmen knew their trade and took pride in exhibiting their skills in their handiwork. It was a place of high ceilings, dark wooden floors, white painted walls of v-groove paneling, and windows looking out over the dunes to the sea.

Our days started and ended with walks along the sand to see what the water had tossed up for our inspection. There were bits and pieces of shells everywhere – oyster, clam, mussel, and sand dollars. There were the occasional jellyfish, stranded at high tide by the retreating waters. On one occasion, we came across a small puffer fish, half inflated by the shock of its own mortality.

We picked up the occasional bauble and brought it back for closer inspection. Some made it all the way back to our home far from the sea. Most were left for others to speculate over on their walks along the sand - part of the ever-changing seascape.

We are now home again. C made it just fine. We knew where the local hospital was in the event that we needed to make use of it, but fortune (and a lot of borrowed red cells) smiled on us and we passed it on by.

When we returned home, we found the frogs overjoyed to have us back as they sang all night long last night in honor of our return. We expect that they will continue to serenade us again tonight and we intend to do our part by listening to the chorus as we drift off to sleep.

P.