An Inconvenient Tumor - ...but aren't they all?

February 4, 2010

The Go-Kart Incident

Bryan and I went to Las Vegas for a friend's 30th birthday last weekend. There was a big group of us – about 18 total – and our friend "in charge" was looking for fun group activities. Several activities were tossed out but never came to fruition, e.g. driving exotic cars, shooting range, indoor sky diving, etc.

Personally, I'm glad we didn't go shoot any targets or pay $250pp to drive a Ferrari. ESPECIALLY considering what I saw from our friends (myself included) at the decided-upon activity: indoor go-kart racing.

To give some background, Bryan hasn't been driving since he started radiation in May. That's...what? Ten months? Either way, it's a long time. So go-karting was going to be his first experience back behind the wheel. If you've never driven a go-kart, being behind a go-kart wheel is some serious stuff, requiring outfitting with a head sock (think ski mask for armed robbers), helmets, watching a safety video, etc. The go-karts themselves don't have any doors or padding; you're strapped in with an over-the-shoulder seat belt and sent on your way in a vehicle that maxes out at about 30+mph. That's shockingly fast when you're not protected by a windshield, doors or even have power steering.

Our group had signed up to race against each other – all 10 of us at a time – for three races; the first was a practice race, the second was a qualifying run, and the third was the actual race. We got into our go-karts, had our seat belts and safety gear approved by the technicians and off we went, onto a course with hairpin turns and plenty of opportunities for ugly crashes.

You can see where I'm going with this. Our group was no more than one lap into the first race when all of our go-karts automatically slowed to a stop. Two of the employees came running out onto the speedway and pulled one of our go-karts off of the course. I was thinking to myself, "Oh please-please-please God don't let it be Bryan." Of course, as luck would have it, I see that it's Bryan getting out of the go-kart, to which I exchange helmeted glances with my closest driver that nervously yet silently said, "Yikes, I hope he's not hurt." Bryan wobbled off the course to the nearest vantage point and our go-karts were put back into gear. I pulled around the track to get a look at him and he was fine, giving me a thumbs up from the side, so I finished the 12-lap race. I had boys to beat. :)

Once our first race was over, we all rushed over to see what had happened. I was heartbroken at the notion that Bryan might not be able to race with his buddies and wanted to see what was going on. I ask, "Are you okay??? What happened?!" Bryan's reply thrilled me because it had nothing to do with his ability to steer the go-kart, operate the pedals, etc. Instead he says about one of our friends, "That a**hole! He rear-ended me into the wall and the employees ejected me from the course for reckless driving!"

We all shared a good laugh and when it was time for the second race, we suited back up, got into our respective go-karts and took off for the qualifying round. I came in sixth and Bryan came in last. Bryan was very upset because two of our friends were ejected from that race, one of whom slammed another driver's car into a wall with so much force that it actually went up and over the wall. We were seriously lucky that no one got hurt, but Bryan was pissed that he got last when two other drivers were ejected. "Something is wrong with this race, I tell you!" he said.

Our third and final race went off without incident. When we were all done (Bryan finished 9th and I finished 4th – I'm a defensive driver, what can I say?) we were walking out of the go-kart facility and someone mentioned that when our two friends got in the second-round wreck, he had apologized to the attendant by saying, "I'm sorry, one of our friends has some medical problems." The attendant had no idea who it was, so turned and looked at our friend who had caused the big crash. With that, we all burst into hysterical fits of laughter and went back to our hotel.

The lesson learned here is that Bryan is steadily improving, so much so that his friends are being accused of having medical problems, not him. Finally, the joke's not on us.

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Posted by Christie Clough Bishop

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January 26, 2010

"Fishing Got Scrapped"

That was the text message I got from Bryan about fishing. It was part of 43 text messages I received as he tried to "document" his weekend so he could remember it once he sobered up. No joke. I stopped responding after about 10 texts, not knowing exactly what to say to a 2:43am text informing me, "Still drunk. Just had two soft tacos." Suffice to say, our good old Bryan is back. :)

My personal favorites: "12:03pm - First beer of the day." Followed by, "12:36pm: I had a breakfast burrito."

He called when I didn't respond – why would I? He's with the boys and I'm doing my own thing – asking in a worried tone, "Everything okay? I got worried when you didn't respond to my text about a breakfast burrito." Wow, am I that predictable? I guess so.

He had a great weekend, came back worse for wear and took two days to recover. Par for the course!

Before he took off for the bachelor party last Friday afternoon, we spent the day at Cedars following-up with his neuro oncologist and getting his Avastin infusion. Talk about a pre-party. Good news is it was another fantastic appointment with a high-five from the doctor and a "get out of here and live your life" from the Physician's Assistant. Will do; even though we'll see them again in two weeks.

Everything is improving so much that we're actually starting to make plans for more than two weeks at a time. It's really nice because what else are you going to do? We're just living our life the best we can...

It's funny because I'm definitely writing less than I used to, but that's a good thing. I honestly have a hard time thinking of things to write about. How many times can someone read "We're doing great, he's doing great, blah blah blah." It's an amazing thing for us, but doesn't exactly come off as the most interesting of news. But looking back several months, I remember somberly writing, "What I wouldn't give for a normal, boring life." Not to say it's totally normal and boring, especially since we definitely have more doctor's appointments in one month than normal people do in a year, but it's really, really close.

We're looking for work – turns out the market hasn't bounced back to where we hoped it was – trying not to spend too much money and basically just enjoying our TiVo'd shows. Once we get back to working, there will hardly be any more lazy mornings spent sleeping in, enjoying coffee together and heading to the gym at off-hours. So until life takes us on our next journey, whether it's work, health, whatnot, we're just hanging out. And as boring as that sounds to write, it's true. :)

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Posted by Christie Clough Bishop

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January 20, 2010

Deep Sea Fishing

Bryan's headed to San Diego this weekend for a good friend's bachelor party. On the agenda? Deep sea fishing.

Yikes.

Listen, I've got nothing against deep sea fishing. In all honesty, I've always wanted to go deep sea fishing. I've been whale watching, but that's hardly the same thing. The idea of being a few miles from shore with the wind in your hair, salt water spraying your face all while on the hunt for Marlin, Swordfish or Tuna... Well, that sounds like an exciting adrenaline rush to me!

You know what doesn't give me an exciting adrenaline rush? The idea of my balance-challenged husband on a boat, miles from shore, attached to a fishing harness while attempting to catch fish that have a distinct "deep sea" advantage over him. All at the end of a week that has been Southern California's stormiest in years. YEARS. God forbid he tries to walk somewhere and a big swell comes...

Before you pounce on me, I know I'm being a bit silly here. Bryan will be with some of our best guy friends who would never, ever let anything happen to him. We're talking about guys Bryan has known since we were in college, guys who stood up as groomsmen in our wedding, guys who came over to take care of him (and give me an opportunity to grab some much-needed to rest) when he was suffering radiation and chemotherapy's worst effects.

The real "issue" with the idea of deep sea fishing is one of adjustment back to a normal life. Which is somewhat crazy in and of itself. Whoever thought it would take time and energy to adjust to getting back to a normal life? It took so long for us to come to grips with the fact that Bryan had a brain tumor in the first place; not to mention the physical and mental decline as a result of an incredibly rough prescribed course of treatment. But that's all changed since September, the point when Bryan started Avastin and began to improve. Slowly but dramatically. As we all know, just a few short months ago the idea of going to San Diego would have been out of the question for Bryan. So the fact that he's going at all and can even consider going deep sea fishing is amazing, exciting and a reminder of what our lives used to be. And what they will be again.

I'm really happy for him and for us. But that's not to say I'm totally happy about the fishing idea. However, that's my own issue. I know he'll be fine and as along as he has an amazing time with friends, that's all that matters. But he better wear a life jacket. :)

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Posted by Christie Clough Bishop

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January 16, 2010

We Can't Sleep...

It's 3:53am and Bryan and I are both wide awake. Not sure why. I've been tossing and turning for the past hour, while he says he's been up since 1:30am. I think this is the first time in our entire relationship that both of us are experiencing some form of insomnia.

So I'm here, typing away while he's reading Bill Simmon's book. However, he's not reading it in a "this book is boring and will lull me back to sleep" kind of way, because he loves the book. On the contrary, he's just looking for something to do other than focus on not being able to get some shut eye.

I'm not able to sleep because I'm thinking about jobs. Trying to find one, to be exact. Part of me is starting to feel guilty for not doing anything right now, especially since Bryan is doing so well. This week alone he's experienced improvements in his walking – it's almost back to normal – and his left arm and hand. It's really a remarkable things, seeing him progress and functionality return. The fact is, we need some sort of income. We can't continue to live off of our savings. We haven't received the money from the benefit yet and that is designated for medical bills. It would be nice to get it, as we continue to receive bills in excess of $900 on an almost weekly basis. His recurrent MRIs alone are almost a $1000 a pop, not to mention the Avastin treatments, the bills for which are starting to trickle in.

As far as jobs go, Bryan will hopefully be back to driving soon and be able to help Adam Carolla part-time with the podcast network. Whether it's returning to sound effects or hosting a podcast of his own remains to be seen, which is the beauty of the network. It's accommodating and ever-changing depending on what the fans want. And right now the fans want Bryan behind the drop machines again.

As for me, I'm really going for a writing career. Bryan's and my perspective on life has changed so dramatically that neither of us are willing to compromise our happiness and be stuck in a job we hate. We want to do what we love. I don't know who said it, but "Do what you love and you'll never work a day in your whole life."

My love is writing, food, wine and travel. My food blog, Pardon My Crumbs, already has a pretty big following and almost 40 subscribers in 2 1/2 months. My recipes have been featured on a few different food blogger sites, so I must be doing something right. I can, and do, spend hours everyday going through Google Reader looking up foodie news, restaurant reviews, recipe revisions, professional food photography, etc. I post links to Twitter, retell stories on my blog and at the end of the day, it feels like I've only been at it for five minutes. It doesn't feel like slaving over research for a private jet company or automotive brand, like I've done for clients in years past. Beyond the research and networking, my other hands-down favorite part of the day is experimenting with recipes. I wake up in the morning and my first thought – literally – is what to make for dinner. How I'm going to photograph it. What stories I can write to go with the recipe about my experiences with the specific food in my past, to bring the meal to life and give it soul. I know it might sound crazy, but hey, everyone's got their niche. And mine is food and wine.

So if anyone out there knows any editors or writers, let me know. My contacts in advertising are endless, so I'm trying to navigate those waters first and see if it translates into writing contacts. But I'll absolutely take any help I can get.

I've said this before, but the name of the game for our jobs in 2010 is flexibility. Bryan and I still have so many appointments and medical "stuff" to attend to; bi-weekly neuro oncology check-ups and Avastin infusions, five days of chemo per month, bi-monthly MRIs, etc. And Bryan definitely still has good days and bad days. That said, any writing assignments I can research and complete from home or within a close radius to home, is key.

I know it will all work out, it just depends on when. So in the meantime, I'm throwing lots of lines into the water and hopefully someone will bite, taking a chance on letting me write for them. God knows I've compiled a comprehensive portfolio since May on this site alone.

Okay, enough writing for now. Bryan is cracking up next to me, reading Simmon's accounts of Ron Artest's attack on fans. Apparently he's wide awake because he's laughing like it's 4pm, not 4am. As for me, I'm going to try and get back to sleep, lulled by his sweet giggling. Goodnight.

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Posted by Christie Clough Bishop

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January 12, 2010

Ticking Time Bomb

Sorry I've been MIA; last week was a crazy one for us. I had a gnarly bout of the flu while Bryan was on chemo. Luckily he felt fine for the first few days of chemo, so he was able to take care of me. And thankfully I felt better once he started feeling crappy, so we kind of switched caregiver roles. I know that's how normal couples do it, but it was a novelty for us.

So here's the latest deal with us: things are GREAT. Bryan is great. He's feeling great, walking great, talking great...doing everything great.

It's so exciting, but at the same time I'm terrified. I have these horrible masochistic thoughts like, "How long is this going to last?" I can't let myself get comfortable. I'm still worrying so much about our lives, long-term, wondering whether we can have kids, or if we do, will I be a single mom at some point? Will I be a widow in my 30s? Will we ever be able to take the trips we want to take, e.g. to Italy? Will we be able to get back to successful careers, or will that time spent at work take away precious moments we could have had together? The list goes on and on. What it comes down to is I just wonder how much more time we have to make incredible memories. And knowing there could be a limit on our lives together scares me more than I can properly explain. But at the same time, apparently I'm supposed to drop it all and get entirely back to our normal, pre-brain tumor lives.

So many people say to me, "So what now? Bryan just gets totally better and you guys move on?" Or, "You guys have a new lease on life. You'll live to be 85 years old together."

I pray for that every day, but it's not exactly as easy as that. I would trade so many things - our savings, our insurance, our belongings - just to not live with a constant fear of "what if he gets sick again tomorrow?" No one gets it; all our friends live with this confidence that they can go on til they're 90, forging ahead in their careers, having families, buying homes, etc. All we can do is attempt to live our lives the same way, except we have the threat of a ticking time bomb over our heads. I know no one knows their destiny or how much time they've got, but it's harder to live with the constant threat.

I know I shouldn't be worrying about this stuff because Bryan is great, but this blog is about honesty and having an outlet for me. I know I need to live in the moment. And I actually do, especially when we're with friends or spending some great alone time together. That's really the most important thing about living with brain tumors, or any other unpredictable monster of a disease. But it's also the hardest thing to do. Because here's the most f*cked up part: Bryan could be fine for 3 months, 5 years or the rest of his life. NO ONE KNOWS. And the type-A personality in me really just can't get a handle on accepting that.

The most frustrating part is that the doctors don't know anything about what's going to happen. They are always incredibly surprised at how well Bryan is doing, and at some point we're both like, "You're HIS doctor. Shouldn't you know be more confident that your treatment is WORKING?" That's not to say they're not incredibly thrilled with his progress, because they are, and they basically see him for five minutes, give us both high-fives and say "Keep up the good work!"

Bryan's youth, his strength, his positive attitude and his determination to get better are his weapons helping him beat the tumor. It's just hard to get comfortable in our lives, or to let your guard down, because at any minute, our lives with our friends and our families, and most importantly, as Bryan & Christie Bishop, could be destroyed. And those are thoughts that, while they occasionally dim, never really go away. Getting Bryan's diagnosis was like being hit head-on by a Mack truck. I can't let myself get all that comfortable because what if something happens to him? But at the same time, what is nothing happens to him and we live an incredibly happy, loving and long life?

You can hopefully see how this would drive a person crazy.

So right now, I'm trying my best to focus on the fact that we're doing great. We're so happy, he's getting more and more healthy, and we're hoping to get back to some freelance work really soon. We're loving every moment of our lives. I'm just being honest about my fears and what drives me to take the occasional Valium before I go to sleep at night.

I just need that ticking time bomb to short out. Permanently. Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

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Posted by Christie Clough Bishop

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January 5, 2010

Bryan's Doing The Dishes

No huge long post to report since I feel like total crap, but I would just like to take the time to report that while I am resting on the couch with the flu, Bryan took all the dinner dishes into the kitchen and is washing every single thing. The plates, the silverware, the knives, the pan. Drying them too. Four months ago, he could hardly move the left side of his body, much less his fingers. He couldn't even walk with a walker, and was practically immobile and sleeping 18 hours a day.

He just came out, got my water glass, went back to the kitchen and refilled it and brought it back to me. I know very few other people can understand what a big deal this is, but that's just what it is. A HUGE deal.

I'm not sure who to thank; but thank you, thank you, thank you. Our life is coming back.

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Posted by Christie Clough Bishop

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January 5, 2010

Sick At The Studio

Bryan jogged to the car today. Granted, it was 30 feet from our front stoop to the car, but it was magical. Both legs moving in sync, both knees bending properly, both feet lifting off the ground in time...

I, on the other hand, was dragging ass behind Bryan so I had a perfect view of his jogging exploits. You see, for the first time in nine months we have found ourselves in an interesting (and potentially dangerous) situation. Simply put, I'm sick. It started out as a cold two nights ago but now it has exploded into full-blown-FLU-sick. Like sick to the point where the hair on my head hurts. You know the feeling. It's awful.

Yesterday, Bryan had his bi-weekly follow-up with his neuro oncologist, followed by a trip the infusion center. It was perfect timing, actually, as Bryan was able to ask all sorts of questions about how my sickness might impact him, particularly since this is his chemo week. Perfect timing, right?

Good news is that the doctor said that even if Bryan catches my cold/flu/whatever, he'll be fine. He can take all the OTC meds he wants - e.g. DayQuil, NyQuil, Benadryl, etc - and it will be okay. They did advise against prolonged make-out sessions though, which is a no-brainer considering I'd suffocate anyway. :P

We knew this would happen at some point and it's great to know that Bryan's immune system is strong enough that he won't be affected by my germs. That said, we're making a huge point to wash our hands a ton, not touch each other too much and Purell/Lysol the heck out of everything we own.

My bigger concern yesterday, however, was affecting the people at the cancer center while Bryan got his infusion. There are so many people there in the middle of radiation and chemo with very, very weak immune systems. A common cold might be no big deal to someone like me, but might spell D-E-A-T-H to a cancer patient. It's so scary, but true.

So when we got to the infusion area, Bryan got me one of the masks that you sometimes see people on airplanes wearing. I put it on and it became my accessory of choice for the next two hours. I tried to avoid sitting or standing too close to people in wheelchairs or who looked as though their health was really compromised. I washed my hands about 10 times and didn't touch anything unless it was absolutely necessary. I did see other people – mostly family members of patients – who appeared to have some sort of cold/flu, but they weren't wearing masks. I didn't think that was exactly right, but at least I was one less person from whom they had to endure a sneeze or a cough.

After all was said and done, Bryan got his infusion, we went home and I resumed my position on the couch. I rested the remainder of the day, threw together a dinner for us, and went to bed. I wish I could say I feel better today, but I definitely feel worse. Getting out of bed was an effort in and of itself, much less driving Bryan to the Valley to Carolla's podcast studio. The good news is that at least we're part of the family, so it's no big deal that I basically curl up in one of the armchairs and go to sleep. And that's exactly what I'm going to do now. Have a great rest of the day. I'll be sleeping.

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Posted by Christie Clough Bishop

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January 5, 2010

Our Christmas & New Years!

Happy New Year everyone! Bryan and I got back Sunday night from a fantastic Christmas vacation. We kicked it off in Solvang, where we relaxed at the ranch with my family. After a few days, we drove up the coast to San Francisco and spent an incredible three days to celebrate the wedding of our great friends, Jon & Alexa. The wedding was a New Year's Eve black-tie affair at the Palace Hotel, and truly could not have been a better way for Bryan and I to celebrate the end of 2009. Not to mention I had never seen Bryan in a tuxedo, nor had he seen me in a black-tie ball gown, so it was really fun. We rung in the New Year surrounded our wonderful friends, shed happy tears as we bid 2009 adieu, and danced the night away in style. Topped off –literally – by the Palace's famed Tiffany glass ceiling, the night was perfect.

On New Year's Day, Bryan and I made our way to his hometown of San Carlos. Bryan's parents awaited our arrival and luckily didn't mind when this slightly-hungover twosome wanted to do nothing more than rest on the couch and swap holiday stories.

Saturday, Bryan's brother and sister-in-law joined us so we could have a belated Bishop family Christmas present exchange and dinner. Homer Simpson air freshener, an adult pair of Transformers underwear and several gourmet foodie gifts later (can you guess who got what?), we started making our Christmas dinner feast.

Everything was made from scratch: French onion soup, wedge salad, three types of raviolis (recipes coming in upcoming posts) and Bryan's dad's famous Filet Mignon with Cabernet sauce. It's hands-down in my top five best filet's EVER. I don't have the recipe yet, but I'll get it and share. It's incredible and better yet, relatively easy to make.

Sufficiently stuffed and ready for our own home, Sunday we made the long drive back to Los Angeles. Of course I came down with a cold the moment we stepped foot into our house, so I'm fighting that off. But cold aside, all in all it was a truly magical Christmas and New Years. We're so thrilled we were able to spend it with friends and family, enjoying every moment. We hope you were able to do the same! Here's to 2010 being a great year!

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Posted by Christie Clough Bishop

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December 27, 2009

Back At The Ranch

For the past 30 years, my family has spent the week after Christmas at a guest ranch in Santa Ynez Valley. It's a rustic place without TVs, phones, no cell reception, a common dining room, etc. The same families have been coming for almost as long as we have, too, so we get to catch up with people from all over that we know as our "ranch friends." It's a really relaxing getaway from our hectic lives in L.A.

Bryan joined us for this tradition three years ago, and it quickly became one of his favorite places. So much so that my Dad and Bryan would exchange emails starting three months before Christmas simply saying, "Ninety more days til the ranch..." This would continue until Christmas, when there would be only two days until "the ranch." It's one of their many ways of bonding, and suffice to say I think it's really sweet (if not somewhat ridiculous).

Well, earlier this year, when Bryan was at his worst – probably around August or so – we really didn't know if Bryan's health was going to improve to the point where we'd make it to the ranch with my family. It was beyond depressing, to be honest.

It was around that time that my Dad said to Bryan, "Okay. You've got one job and one job only this year. You've got to get better so we can all go to the ranch together. One hundred twenty days 'til the ranch." It was really, really adorable, and my Dad's way of boosting Bryan to think of long-term goals. And let's face it, when you've got a brain tumor, six months can absolutely be a long-term goal.

It's now one hundred twenty days later, and Bryan and I just pulled into the driveway of the ranch. He got out of the car himself, walked with me to check-in, and helped carry the bags to the front step of our room. No bellman necessary. He just worked on making a fire in the fireplace, and only needed me to light the match and arrange the logs. It was a team activity, just the way we like it.

My family hasn't arrived yet, but tonight when we have dinner at the same table we've been eating at for three decades, we will toast to Bryan's health. He's here, his health is improving and we can all enjoy this time together. However, he won't be jumping on a horse or into a canoe anytime soon, but who cares? We can sit by the fire, drink some wine and listen to his custom Christmas playlist. That's just perfect.

In a few days we're off to the Bay area for a friend's New Year's Eve wedding and a belated Christmas with Bryan's family. It's the end of 2009 and we can't say goodbye fast enough. Here's to 2010. In the meantime, we'll just be back at the ranch. :)

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Posted by Christie Clough Bishop

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December 23, 2009

Watch Out, Bryan's Got A Knife!

This morning I went to pick up our car from the shop (routine inspection, no worries) and when I got home, Bryan was in the kitchen. A few months ago the fact that he was in the kitchen at all would have been a big deal, but today it was even more impressive. I heard chopping noises, smelled coffee and had a flashback to the time – many moons ago – when he would make us breakfast or help me with dinner.

Today, Bryan was in the kitchen cutting up a banana, pouring himself cereal and making us coffee. Not only is it an incredibly sweet gesture, it is the first time in almost a year that the man has used a kitchen utensil to cook, much less a knife. This is a really great sign. I know it's nearly impossible for people reading this to understand the true dexterity and coordination it takes for a person's fingers to to hold a knife, open a cabinet, pull out a bowl, etc. Much less handling the small Keurig coffee pods – the Holiday blends are our current favorites – and maneuvering coffee mugs, cartons of milk, sugar, etc.

What this all means is that Bryan is doing so, so, so well. He's getting it back.

Most recently, a really big step forward (no pun intended) is that Bryan has been able to regain movement in his left toes. Well, it's more the big toe than any other toe, but that doesn't matter. He hadn't been able to move his toes since before he was diagnosed, and when we told our oncologist he was blown away. If I recall correctly, he said "Getting back the movement in your toe is HUUUUGE." Bryan's basically worked to re-establish the neurological pathways between his brain and his toe.

Bryan, of course, isn't fazed by any of this, being far too humble to really get excited. Meanwhile, I'm the idiot who is literally dancing around the living room celebrating movement in his toe. He just smiles...but I can tell he's really excited, too, because behind the roll of his eyes is a sparkle that wasn't there before. :)

Another big deal? Yesterday, Bryan went out to get the mail. About two months ago, he ventured out onto the porch to get the mail, reassuming (to my great delight) one of his favorite activities. That was a really big move forward. Well, yesterday Bryan not only goes out to get the mail alone, but comes back holding the mail key between his left fingers, grabbing the security door also with his left fingers, balanced himself over the door frame and carrying the stack of holiday mail and catalogues in his right hand. Excuse my French, but holy shit. Again, this might not be a big deal to anyone else, but for us, the fact that Bryan is regaining that kind of coordination is like a regular person learning to juggle four chainsaws. While they're on. Potentially treacherous unless you really, really have got it down.

Bryan saw my jaw drop to the floor and simply said, "What?" I had to point out his accomplishment, to which he gave me a snarky little smile and said, "Yeah, it's pretty great, huh?" Then we high-fived and he threw the mail at me. Thanks, honey.

The point of all this is that he's just doing so well and we're so happy. That's not to say I'm not still nervous – because I am – but it's just that we can legitimately enjoy some great time together right now. We even went to dinner last night with close friends and Bryan wore his nice black shoes. He's been wearing his tennis shoes with his ankle brace everywhere for the past however many months, but last night he put on his nice shoes (which are considerably heavier than tennis shoes) and was able to lift them up over stairs, balance in them, walk to the bathroom, etc. Awesome, not to mention he looked so handsome. :)

Final improvement and then I'll stop bragging about him. On Monday, I had to go Christmas shopping for Bryan. We pretty much go everywhere together, but he wasn't welcome on this particular trip to the mall (nor would he have wanted to come!). So I decided to go shopping during his mid-day therapy session. Normally we park at therapy and walk up together, me there just in case he needs to regain balance, etc. This time, I pulled up in front of the therapy building and we decided to see if Bryan could get in on his own. Meaning, I was essentially dropping him off. I was really nervous and I think he was a bit nervous, too, but he got out of the car, stepped up onto the curb, closed the door and started the trek into the building. As I watched him limp into the front door, I almost teared up. It was like seeing my baby go to school for the first day, all by himself. Maybe that sounds ridiculous, but after all the work we've been doing and all the positive energy we've been focusing into Bryan getting better, this was a huge, huge step forward. Literally. He got into the building perfectly fine, up the elevator and down the hall to therapy all by himself. We did the same thing today, and it's amazing to see the progression from a few months ago.

All these improvements are truly the best Christmas gift either of us could hope for. And we continue to hope that the next weeks, months and years hold the same result: improvement and growth. We hope for the same thing for all of you; a wonderful holiday season and all the happiness life can bring, especially through the tiniest of moments. Appreciate them, give someone a high-five and a hug, because too many people forget and just zoom through life.

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Posted by Christie Clough Bishop

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