An Inconvenient Tumor

Bryan and I just got home from a truly magical "Laughs for Bald Bryan" event. As we were getting ready for bed – me happily kicking off my heels and him ripping off his ankle brace – we just couldn't believe what a night this turned out to be.

There were so many moments that stood out for us, it's hard to pinpoint any specific ones. But I'll try because we don't want to let the memories fade.

Early on in the evening, when a quick tour of the silent auction turned into an amazing (and impromptu) receiving line, to the wonderful people giving us their positivity and well-wishes all before the show. Learning that people had come from Maryland, Atlanta, Illinois, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Massachusetts, New York, Phoenix, Seattle, Las Vegas, Portland, etc. was absolutely incredible. Going backstage before the show and hanging out with the family of the Carolla show, tonight dubbed as "talent." We were able to thank everyone and could see the excitement in the dressing room. It was like a fun groups of guy friends just hanging out before they would go out and inevitably rock the house more than any of us could have imagined. Adam's introduction of Bryan and me on stage, where we received a blinding ovation. I say "blinding" because that spotlight was so bright we couldn't see ANYTHING; it was a blessing in disguise though because had I seen what a packed house it was, I may have passed out. The love in the room was palpable and it was all I could do not to cry from hearing everyone's supportive cheers.

Bryan's welcome and thank-you speech, sharing the news that he had already beaten the initial 6-month prognosis from "Dr. Doom" really, really moved me. Jimmy Kimmel hilariously brought back the ZiggyZoggy beer chugging contest. Again. And again. Greg Fitzsimmons talked about balls and farts. Dana Gould did his perfected impressions of Huell Howser as well as a crazy man vs. crazy chihuahua. Larry Miller getting everyone in fits of hysteria over his "We're so spoiled bit." Dan Band himself singing about Bryan's mom and sexually assaulting my Grandpa. Twice. But don't worry, he loved every minute of it.

Joel McHale joining the group for a last minute showcase about Bryan's genius and his family's recent bout with projectile vomit. Oh, and then there was when he jumped off the stage and mounted me. Hell yes.

Then there was Bad Religion, who tore up the house with a 30-minute set. All for free. They played all their hits to a "conservative and pleasant" audience, save for the people (I'm talking about you, Amy & Jon!) who ran to the stage to do a mini-mosh. It was awesome all around.

The VIP reception was incredible, from the open bar and appetizers to the cupcake station, sake-tasting station, gelato station and naked sushi girl (both disturbing and unhygienic, but the guys loved her!). Everyone seemed to be having an absolute blast and it was incredible to look around and know that the love and support was all for Bryan. Adam and several others of the talent stayed til almost midnight, signing autographs, taking photos and meeting every single fan. As far as Bryan and I, the stories people shared, the encouragement and the love we got not only in that room, but throughout the night, was overwhelming. So many people thanked us for having the event, and it was all we could do not to say "are you crazy, THANK YOU!"

Because at the end of the day (or at 1:45am...wow I am tired and my poor feet ache), we cannot even BEGIN to thank everyone that was there. Don't thank us; we didn't do anything but show up. It's the incredible generosity and support from almost 1300 of our extended friends and family that is getting us through this, both emotionally and now, financially, too. We really don't even know what to say; there are no words for how blessed we feel and how thankful we are to have each and every one of you in our lives.

The show was a HUGE success and we heard from many, many people that it was one of the best shows they've seen. Period. That alone made the night worth it, knowing how much everyone enjoyed it.

Bryan and I are leaving for the Bay area for Thanksgiving on Sunday, so I may not be blogging for the next week or so. But as we move into this week of giving thanks, we couldn't feel more thankful or more cared for. Thankful for the night we had tonight, for the friends and family we have on our side, and most of all, for the Bryan's improving health. There are so, so many more things we are thankful for, and we make sure we're mindful of them every day. Because you never know when life is going to throw a brain tumor, or a speeding bus, or a strike of lightning your way. Cherish each moment and each memory, like the ones we had and made tonight.

Bryan and I certainly will, and will be basking in the glow of this evening for a long, long time. Now, it's time for sleep. Thank you and goodnight.

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This is the question that I've been getting from more than a few people this past week.

Why?

Because I decided to make 300 bags of cookies and brownies for the Laughs For Bald Bryan VIP reception. Since I've been baking so much lately I decided that I'd really love to make a bunch of cookies and brownies as a "thank you" to the people in the VIP section. I would've made 1200 of them, but that was ridiculous. Bryan and I have been really overwhelmed at the response to tonight's (EEK!) fundraiser and wanted to thank people. We weren't sure how, until I offered up my baking services. Since we've had a pretty quiet week, I've had a lot of time to get baking done. I baked for about 7 hours on Wednesday afternoon/night. Turns out that was the "easy" part, as cutting and inserting turtle brownies into little cellophane bags can be a pretty sticky situation. Pun intended.

Regardless, this is my first big baking adventure and it was really fun. Check out the photos and you can see my progress. If you're at the VIP section tonight, make sure to grab a cookie or brownie bag. There are turtle brownies, peanut butter swirl brownies, sea salt/chocolate cookies, peanut butter cup cookies and toffee crunch cookies. Yum!

I'll also post photos and a story on my officially-named food blog, www.pardonmycrumbs.com!

         

Click here to download:

Are_You_Nuts.zip (4244 KB)

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This story is more funny than gross, I promise. Well, at least part of it.

Bryan and I have had quite the day today. We were up early to get to Bryan's biweekly neuro oncologist appointment. When we arrived, we were the only ones in the office. It was great. Usually is can take up to forty five minutes to see our doctor, which isn't great.

Being back in the hospital reminded me of another appointment Bryan needed to make: one with an ear, nose and throat specialist. Over the past few weeks, Bryan has been having a hard time hearing. Before you get worried, it's not from anything serious. Rather, it's from 31 years of wax build-up in his ear canal. One day last week he was having a particularly hard time hearing, so I tried to look inside his ear. My vision didn't get far before spying the culprit: a WALL of wax.

I knew we needed to get Bryan's ears cleaned out before Friday's fundraiser, because otherwise he wouldn't be able to hear anyone talking to him. And having me as a translator isn't an answer, because then people will start asking me if his brain tumor is making him go deaf. Not a conversation I want to have.

So back to this morning. We've been to our neuro oncology office dozens of times and I've always noticed the specialties of the other offices on the same floor. As we were waiting for our doctor, I remembered that there was an ENT specialist down the hall, so I figured "What the hell? It's worth a shot to go see if they can fit him in."

I ran down the hall, waited in line and practiced my story. "My husband is a patient of Dr. So-and-So down the hall and he's been having a really hard time hearing me lately. I think he's got a really bad build-up of wax in his ears and needs it cleaned out. Is there anyway he can see one of your ENT doctors this morning?"

The receptionist was an absolute delight and said, "Honey, that's not wax, that's called selective hearing. My husband has it, too!" After that hilarious quip, we were like old friends. She let me know there had been an 11am cancellation and put Bryan in the slot. Bingo, we're in!

Bryan's neuro appointment was quick and painless; just the way we like it. Afterwards we walked down the hall to appointment #2 at the ENT. Ten minutes of waiting later, we were called into the back. A lovely woman named Rosie came in and started explaining all of the different methods of extracting ear wax, and after each one she kept saying, "This isn't the way I like to do it, but the doctor makes me."

Hmmm. OK-AY.

Rosie tells Bryan that the technique might upset his inner ear equilibrium for a bit, and then starts to squirt pressurized water into Bryan's ear to release the wax. She keeps muttering to herself, "I don't have the right equipment," "Stubborn wax!" and other strange things that only medical professionals with Tourettes Syndrome might say. After her third try, she forgets to put the mini-trough up to Bryan's neck. The trough catches the water and ear wax as it (supposedly) exits his ear. Well, this time water came flying out, went all down Bryan's neck and made a significant stain right over his right "breast." For the next hour, it appeared as though he was either lactating or had a significant drooling problem. It was mortifying and hilarious at the same time, especially when encountering the stares we got when walking back through in the waiting room.

Four tries and one lactation stain later, Rosie says she's moving on to a suction technique. A technique with which she is admittedly uncomfortable. I gently say, "you know, we won't be offended at all if you feel that there is another nurse who might feel more comfortable."
Rosie says, "I guess I shouldn't have said that I'm not very comfortable with this technique," to which Bryan and I both said, "You're right."

So luckily she calls in another nurse, who calls in the actual doctor. This doctor was fabulous. Donning some crazy leather eye-patch/strap/head band, she starts going to town in Bryan's ear. The noises from the suction pipe did NOT sound good; like a serious showdown between wax and wax-extracting wand was about to commence. I realized the true intensity of the struggle as chunk after chunk of Guinness Book-record setting pieces of wax came out. They were so big that the doctor said, "I can't believe you could hear at ALL with all this blockage."

Yuck, yuck, yuck.

I'm good with lots of things, but this made me gag. Bryan must have noticed the freaked-out look on my face because he just said, "Lots of wax, huh?"

Yeah, honey, there was a lot of wax.

So we finished up, ignored the stares of the waiting room patients wondering if Bryan needed breast-feeding pads, and made our way home. Like little piggies, we laughed all the way home but stopped right when we pulled into the driveway because Bryan said, "Honey, I don't feel good."

Considering that Bryan has a stomach of steel, I just thought that he was queasy from not eating for too long. But I was wrong; something about the ear procedure had upset his stomach and he started dry-heaving on the spot. Realizing that I only had seconds before Bryan's insides met the pavement, I ran to the trunk of my car and got out a spare grocery bag. Then I held it for my husband as he kind-of, sort-of threw up. Talk about a morning. It wasn't even noon yet.

I got Bryan inside the house where he laid down and mused at the fact that he hadn't gotten sick in years. Turns out he just needed to sit down and get some food in his stomach; after he ate, he was fine. All was good in the world again.

Forty five minutes later, we were back to the hospital for his Avastin infusion. And that's where we remain right now. Bryan's napping and I'm reading his blood count report. All looks good.

Hopefully tonight will be less eventful, because we're wiped out. But unlike the past few weeks, at least Bryan can hear me now when I say that. Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

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If you're reading this, you're clearly using something with a keyboard. Your phone, computer, etc. And to get to this blog, somewhere along the way you may have had to type several individual keys.

For example, w-w-w-.-a-n-i-n-c-o-n-v-e-n-i-e-n-t-t-u-m-o-r-.-c-o-m.

Or, w-w-w-.-g-o-o-g-l-e-.-c-o-m.

Presumably, each of your fingers moved seamlessly across the keyboard, your knuckles easily extending to reach out-of-the-way keys. Even if you're a novice typist, speed has nothing to do with it. Once you were able to find the keys, your fingers did all the work. Ironically, if you think about it, you didn't have to think much about typing at all.

Well, the exact opposite is true for Bryan, especially when it comes to his left arm, wrist and hand. Bryan has always been a pretty fast typist, but the effects from the radiation pretty much wiped out his left-sided typing capacity. Megan, our great occupational therapist, has been working with Bryan for a few months – particularly focusing on his upper left side – and has seen great improvements. Bryan's "bigger" muscle groups are working much better, e.g. his shoulder, elbow, etc. The fine motor skills, however, are the ones that need the most focus right now.

A great example of a fine motor skill activity is typing. So, tonight Megan had Bryan focus on typing with his left hand. He's been cheating, you see, only using his right hand when he types. When I remind Bryan to also use his left hand, I often get "But it's too hard" or "I don't want to." When Megan's here, he can't say "no" or make excuses. Hallelujah.

Megan and Bryan worked on typing for a good 20-30 minutes, using only the pinky, ring, middle and index finger of his left hand. I've attached a screen grab of Bryan's marathon typing session. Here's where I want you to think. As you look at the quantity of letters Bryan typed, think about how slow you'd have to go, and how deliberately you'd have to move your fingers in order to take 20-30 minutes to type five lines with one hand. Just think about it. It's kind of hard to wrap your mind around, right?

While Bryan started out by focusing on individual fingers targeting individual letters, they eventually moved on to typing words. There were no spaces, no capital letters, no fancy stuff. Just working from letter to letter. Throughout the exercise, Bryan definitely started to improve and you could tell that his fingers were responding to his brain's commands. It was really cool to watch. It's obviously frustrating for Bryan, but the fact that he's even focusing on getting fine motor skills back is a really great thing.

Whatever your next "typing" move is, whether it's leaving a comment here or typing in one of your other favorite websites, don't take for granted how quickly your fingers move. Move your fingers slower and actually pay attention to how they move when they type. Because it's only when you don't have the ability to do something that you appreciate what you DID have. So, take a minute to appreciate that your body is working the way it should and that you don't have to work for 30 minutes to type five lines. That's my only request.

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The name may still be a work in progress, but I've started my food blog! Yay! Really, I just couldn't wait any longer. You can check it out at www.pardonmycrumbs. I just made pumpkin cupcakes last night and posted the recipe and some pics. They're mmmm-mmmm-awesome (and pretty)!

Enjoy and I look forward to keeping up both blogs, each dedicated to the two biggest loves of my lives.  :)

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At long last, I'm starting my food blog. I've got stories of culinary delights (and frights), tons of recipes to share, photos of baking exploits. Bottom line, my culinary writing juices are finally flowing.

I'm so excited to finally get this started...but I have a slight problem. Problem is, my blog doesn't have a name. Luckily, naming a blog isn't as dire as naming a pet or say, child. But it's still important to me and I want something great.

Since I'm experiencing "blogger's block" I'm asking for your help...what should I call my food blog?? I'm looking for something original, fun and sweet. Thanks all!

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Good news: As of Saturday, Bryan is 100% off of his "cancer" meds, e.g. steroids, antacid, antibiotics, etc. In the morning, during "pill" times, Bryan only takes his Flintstones multi-vitamin, flaxseed and fish oil supplements. This is a huge victory for us, eight months in the making.

That said, here's the bad news: It's chemo week. And chemo week sucks.

For three weeks a month, we are fine. Bryan feels better and better, we're working super hard on therapy and everything is great (all things considered). However, all of a sudden chemo week sneaks up on you, reminding you that you're still living with cancer (again, better than the alternative) and fighting an unseen foe.

Chemo week makes me nervous. It makes Bryan uncomfortable, out of sorts and exacerbates his symptoms. We're on day three of five and Bryan has only taken two nights worth of pills. We've got the regular precautions in place to make sure he doesn't get sick. He takes the four chemo pills with Gatorade, because he said they taste like shit. Pardon his/my French, but news flash to anyone not familiar with chemo: it's poison, so it's not going to taste like strawberries and chocolate.

Actually, on that note, here comes a mini rant. It may be inspired because I'm typing this while listening to Bryan, Adam and Teresa tape the podcast. Per usual, Adam is ranting. This time it's about meth, so here's my drug rant. Why - and I'm being dead serious - don't pharmaceutical companies flavor their pills? Or at least work to MASK the flavors of the most noxious pills out there, like chemo? I mean, they already come in a pill bottle the size of a tennis ball can, so there's no chance of getting it confused for anything else. But the idea that you're already on chemo is bad enough, why make the pills taste like complete ass? It would be so much better for Bryan, and I'm sure a million other chemo pill patients, to have them taste like something other than chemo. At the very least, give them the Advil sugary-coating. Then Bryan wouldn't have to dread taking the chemo pills two hours after dinner, leaving a nasty taste in his mouth right before he goes to sleep.

I'm just saying.

Okay, back to the not-getting-sick precautions. In addition to the Gatorade, Bryan takes two anti-nausea pills (Zofran) to make sure it doesn't react badly in his stomach. Despite that, he still gets really queasy, so we've also got Tums next to the bed. Bryan's night stand looks like the chemo equivalent of someone who has the flu. Instead of a Kleenex box, hot tea and Nyquil, we've got Gatorade, Zofran and Tums. Hey, whatever works, right?

So this week we're laying low and Bryan is resting a lot. To put it in perspective, Bryan has slept 25 hours since Sunday night. He feels pretty queasy and is really out of sorts, but compared to a few months ago, it's barely noticeable. But like Bryan says, it's working and that makes it all worth it.

Okay, that's all the concentrating I can do. Back to listening to Adam rant about why tall people should die early. Oh yes, you read right. Listen to tomorrow's podcast to hear it for yourself.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

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Bryan and I are back at the infusion center for his sixth treatment of Avastin. We met with our neuro oncologist early this morning prior to coming to the infusion center, and it was a great meeting. As of tomorrow, Bryan will be totally off of his steroids, his antibiotic and his anti-acid. For the first time in almost a year, he'll be on only a multivitamins and fish/flaxseed oil supplements, like a totally healthy person. We were very excited to hear that news and for the rest of the appointment, pretty much joked around and chatted with our doctor and P.A.

It was such a casual, cheery meeting, in fact, that it make me take note of what incredible ups and downs this hospital holds for us. It's so strange to think that we've had over 100 appointments here in the past eight months, many tinged with tears of joy and/or fear. That's crazy. If brain tumor appointments were a person, they would easily have bi-polar disorder.

The first appointments, all the way back in late April, were full of fear but strength and a commitment to kick cancer's big fat ass. Then, as we went through radiation, the appointments were full of learning, adjustment to a new life and an understanding of what cancer patients go through. We weren't afraid, per say, we were most rolling with the punches and making friends along the way.

Then came the scary months: July and August. Bryan's radiation effects hit full force and his mobility, cognition and overall functionality were declining, and fast. It was so terrifying for me to watch, I don't have proper words. Our doctor's appointments were full of fear, the unknown and a desperation to know when the radiation effects would "go away."

In September and October, we learned the ways of the infusion center. We'd tackled the main medical towers, the radiation center, the actual hospital (inpatient) itself, and now became one of the bi-weekly infusion patients. That's when Bryan started to improve, got great MRI results and when we really ramped up the physical and occupational therapy. With Bryan's improvements came a totally new vibe in our doctor's appointments as well. It's become "fun," well as much fun as a cancer can be, and we enjoy chatting with our doctors, making jokes and talking about anything BUT cancer.

That's where at right now, but I couldn't help but think about the ups and downs we've experienced over the course of less than one year. Even more strange? The fact that we're going to walk out of here and continue on with our day, as though we didn't spend almost five hours at a cancer center. We'll run some errands, I'll go to a wedding shower and Bryan will rest and watch some TiVo. As if this morning, and a multi-hour infusion of a cutting-edge cancer drug, never happened. It's like living a double life...sometimes it's hard to manage which "Bryan and Christie" we are...the cancer patient and the caregiver, or 30-something newlyweds trying to figure out our lives and our future. Hard to wrap your mind around, but the great news is that with every passing day we edge closer and closer to the healthy and normal "newlywed" side of the coin.

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I'm switching "C-words." Enough with cancer. At least for this week.

The "C-word" I want to talk about is....COOKIES. Go ahead and laugh, I know you want to. But as it turns out, in addition to this blog and going to Bar Method workouts, baking/cooking is a HUGELY cathartic activity for me. So much so that I made over 100 cookies last week. You read right; 100 cookies in two days.

"What's gotten into you?" Bryan asked.

"What do you mean?" I responded, as I peeked out from the kitchen, dusted in flour, baking soda and salt. My hands were covered in a chocolate chip, walnut and sea salt cookie dough. That was only one of three types of cookies I made, as I also dreamed up mini peanut butter cup/chocolate chip and toffee/walnut crumble cookies.

If I don't say so myself, they were fantastic. Check out the photos as evidence.

There is really something about the precise nature of baking and cooking that is wonderfully satisfying. For me, making cookies is a foolproof recipe, one if followed correctly yields delicious and potentially beautiful results. That's right, I said beautiful. There is nothing better than a freshly-baked cookie, bursting with chunks of melted chocolate, nuts and peanut butter. Or one with a chocolate fudge drizzle that becomes crispy at the cookie's edge. That's pure beauty to me.

Not to mention, I get to experiment with recipes. For anyone who knows me or who has eaten any of my food, I love to take a base recipe and then make it my own. Which is what I did with the cookies. I tripled a recipe of a base cookie recipe, divided it into three bowls and added whatever ingredients I thought would make some kick-ass cookies. Then I baked. And baked. And baked.

The sad news is that I only had one sheet pan (I've since purchased another; thank you 20% off Bed Bath & Beyond coupon) so it took several rounds of 11-14 minute baking cycles to cook all of the cookies. The first go-round I baked for about three hours. The second go-round was about five hours. Our entire apartment building smelled like cookies, so I thought it was only appropriate to share some with our neighbors. Otherwise, you could just call me a giant cookie-tease.

I don't just love baking, I love sharing what I make with others. Oddly enough, personally I don't have much of a sweet tooth. Give me savory any day; wine and cheese to be exact. That said, I love to bake and share. So that's what I did. I made little boxes of cookies for our neighbors, friends and family. I even tied little ribbons and pasted custom labels on the boxes. Dare I say, with the exception of a "Christie's Cookies" or "Bishops' Bakery" logo, it looked pretty professional. I was happy and proud to give our friends some delicious treats that had helped me manage my stress levels. It was a win-win all around.

Last night, I needed something to make for Megan, Bryan's occupational therapist. As I've written before, our "deal" is that she helps Bryan and in return, I make her food. So far I've made her pumpkin bread, chili, pasta, and cookies...but I wanted to mix it up. I had been wanting to make turtle brownies from scratch, but have been intimidated by the thought of making caramel from scratch. Terrifying thoughts of bubbling, burning sugar danced in my head. However, threat to our kitchen and apartment building aside – hey, we're only renters – I decided to go for it. Megan wasn't coming until 5:30 or so, and it was only 4:00pm, so I had plenty of time. I threw together the brownies ingredients, cheated through the "let cool to room temperature" by throwing the batter in the freezer, and started on the caramel recipe. It was easier than I thought, and I even went so far as to make a homemade chocolate ganache - a slippery, shiny, sheen of chocolate deliciousness for those not in the know – to drizzle over the brownies. There are photos of those, too.

I gave a few of the brownies to Megan, to my mom and to my matron of honor, Lyndsey. I'm going to give a few to other friends tomorrow, too, and even take some to a wedding shower on Friday night. Watching other people enjoy treats that I've made makes me incredibly happy and gives me a sense of purpose. Ironically, this is the closest thing to a food blog since I was laid off and Bryan got diagnosed. Short of creating my own food website, I get a great sense of fulfillment by just having the time and energy and capacity to write about food. Adding photos is a plus.

Who knows, maybe a bakery is in my future? Or at least a small-scale cookie/brownie delivery service? As I said yesterday, a girl can dream. But I've got to say, it would just be the coolest thing ever if it somehow became a reality. In the meantime, enjoy the food porn.

                   

Click here to download:

The_New_C-Word.zip (8487 KB)

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There have been a lot of jobs I've had to take over since Bryan was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor last April.

Take out the trash. Clean the toilet. Wash, dry and fold the laundry. Drive everywhere. Carry and put away all out groceries. These were jobs that we used to share, but once radiation started to take its toll on Bryan's functionality, my identity changed from fiance and partner to full-time caregiver, nurse and wife.

While I adjusted quickly to all of the jobs that Bryan used to take care of, there was one that I really hated. And it was the most ridiculous job of them all.

What was it? Checking the mail.

I can't explain to you how much I dislike checking the mail. My disdain for this simple activity is completely irrational, as it's perhaps the easiest job in the world. Walk to the front door, pick up the mail key, walk two feet outside the door, turn to the left, open the mail slot, and bring the mail back inside. Done and done.

Not so much. In my mind, mail is totally unnecessary. I pay all my bills and do all my banking online, so I don't get any paper statements. I don't subscribe to any magazines, so I don't have that excitement or anticipation of checking the mail for a new issue of, say, Us Weekly. I don't look at catalogs or penny savers, so those go straight in the recycler. Before Bryan and I moved in together a few years ago, I would let my mail pile up in the box for days. Maybe even weeks. Since there was nothing in the mail relevant to me, I could have cared less. Frankly, checking the mail was a pain in the ass.

This is one of the few areas in which Bryan and I differ. Bryan LOVES to check the mail. His affection for the mail was actually a pet peeve of mine, because when we were dating, we would get all ready for a date and start to leave his apartment when he would decide it was time to check the mail. We'd literally be out the door, hand in hand, ready for date night, when he would dash back inside for the mail key and proclaim "I'll be right back! I gotta check the mail!" He would dash down a flight of stairs, run out to the front of his apartment building, pry open the broken mail door (he didn't even need a key) and grab the stack of envelopes and catalogs. He would proudly come running back up the stairs yelling, "Got it!" I never understood his love for getting student loan and bank statements.

When Bryan eventually moved into my place, he took over getting the mail. I didn't check the mail for over a year. It was fab-u-lous. I didn't have to deal with stacks of catalogs, irrelevant AAA offers, penny savers, or credit card applications. Bryan dealt with all of it because in the midst of it all was his actual mail. My admittedly irrational annoyance for checking the mail disappeared, because I was no longer responsible for it.

Fast forward to last June, when radiation took its toll on Bryan and I started taking over both our responsibilities. I remember one day, Bryan was laying exhausted on the couch after a particularly tough day of chemo and radiation when he asked me, "Can you check the mail?"

I nearly stopped dead in my tracks. Dread trickled down my spine. My responsibility for the mail was back. And while my annoyance level soared for about a second, it was immediately replaced with the knowledge that I needed to suck it up and dutifully check the mail every single day. On time. And show it all to Bryan so he could go through it. Why? Because it made him happy, and making him happy and feel "normal" was my number one priority. Scratch that, it was my only priority. As a result, my perspective on the mail changed completely, because I was responsible for replicating the "satisfying" experience of checking the mail for Bryan. Bryan would no longer be able to walk by himself outside of the apartment to the mail box. He couldn't balance himself enough to get from the couch to the front door. His left hand and arm could no longer hold the key to the mail or hold the mail itself. It was up to me to do something as small as checking the mail to give Bryan an immeasurable level of happiness. Checking the mail was no longer annoying to me because it took on a much greater purpose.

Today, eight months after checking the mail daily, Bryan released me from the duty. I was in the kitchen getting water and came out to see Bryan opening the front door of our apartment. Since this isn't a regular sight, I asked where he was going. He said he was going to check the mail.

Again, I stopped dead in my tracks. Bryan's going outside – OUTSIDE – to check the mail? By HIMSELF? He's going to open the door, hold the mail key, successfully walk over the door jam, maneuver around the door, open the mail slot, hold the mail, and then walk back into the apartment, over the door jam, while holding the mail and the key and balancing himself??? OH.MY.GOD.

It made me nervous, but also thrilled. So I watched just in case he needed help. But he didn't. Bryan got the mail. He came back in to the apartment with the biggest smile I've seen in weeks. I ran over to him and flung my arms around him and together, we celebrated this seemingly tiny, yet huge emotional and physical feat.

For the first time ever, I shared Bryan's joy for checking the mail. And even more so, I felt joy that he's able to slowly take back on some of his "favorite" responsibilities. While it's literally a small step, metaphorically it's a huge one.

I can't wait to see what's next. Taking out the trash? Just kidding, but a girl can dream, can't she?

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