Return Home

Feeling pressure from the impending snow storm, we left for Seattle yesterday a couple hours earlier than normal. I had gone to the office early that morning, finding the side streets with a modest inch or two of snow, but the main streets only wet and the interstate in good condition. On my return trip, my concern increased as the temperature dropped and the traffic on I-5 seemed to thicken.

As we headed north unimpeded a little before 9 AM, we forwent our usual coffee stop in DuPont, still feeling apprehensive about what lie ahead. Tacoma was soon behind us. As we left Federal Way and approached that non descript segment, Mid-way, the skies darkened and I felt the truck slip a bit as we went over a patch of ice.

Then it was over. South Center was bone dry, and our entrance into downtown Seattle revealed only wet streets and the rhythmic metallic percussion of chained up busses.

So we gave into our caffeine cravings and had coffee and treats at the Eastlake Starbucks. Still, there was time to spare so we went for a drive around the neighborhoods to the east of the freeway, eventually looping back through Capitol Hill. On our return route, the winter storm seemed to regain strength, as frozen rain and then snow fell, so we hustled to the SCCA to get parked and make our appointment.

Dr. Goff was her usual enthusiastic self while breezing through Jamie’s exam and giving us the results of the latest CT scan and lab test. All good news. Jamie’s CA-125 score of 10, was followed by an “all clear” account of the CT scan except a minor blemish in her lungs, readily explained by the recent cold. Dr. Goff countered our list of questions with earnest yet concise replies (can she eat Sushi, return to Weight Watchers and Etc.) and soon we were on our way out.

So the next year looks like this; blood draws and port flushes every 6 weeks, consults with Dr. Goff every 90 days and CT scans every six months. Jamie will keep her chest port for about a year, Dr. Goff admitted some time ago that she was a bit superstitious about their removal and tended to leave them be for as long as possible.

Although snow and ice had retracted, we were still left with a cold afternoon which we spent eating pho in the international district followed a ride on the SLUT (South Lake Union Trolley) to a matinee. With Dr. Goff’s approval, dinner of course was Sushi, a treat welcomed by both of us as we had been limited to California rolls since last spring, both for very different reasons. After dinner we took the hotel shuttle for ice cream, where amongst other things, the driver revealed that the acronym SLUT had been officially banned by their corporate policy.

We slept well last night, such that even I was startled awake at 7:30 AM by the alarm clock from a deep slumber. Jamie lounged a bit while I readied myself and snuck off for a bite of breakfast, heading Jamie’s warning not to taunt her by bringing food back to the room.

The three minute commute to the clinic was a breeze as yesterday’s warning of a snow storm were a farce, giving credence to Jamie’s claim that if the Seattle meteorological profession predicts it, it will never come. As we watched the news this morning I chuckled at a reporters attempt to make a live report out of a pile of slush and a cameraman’s attempt to dramatize a street crossing thru slush so thin, a pair of flip flops would have been permissible.

When the nurse called Jamie she stepped up quickly and trotted back to the surgery room without hesitation or looking back. The removal of the abdominal port is a relatively minor procedure and now a veteran, Jamie declined nurse Pat’s suggestion that I might accompany them in the prep area and thus I was left to finish my book.

On the 2nd floor, radiology, there is a very large waiting area that has been recently rearranged with a large variety of couches, chairs and end tables. Unfortunately, this new décor also included the removal of all but one of the coveted recliner chairs. The remaining chair is located in the far corner, where the view of Lake Union is best, but the glass and its remoteness make it a bit chilly. Not minding such conditions, as soon as Jamie was gone I moved towards my favorite spot only to find a women settling into the recliner. As she arranged her things and began to read, it was apparent that she was unaware of what was beneath her behind.

I alerted her to the luxury at hand, and as she gratefully leaned back I made an offhand comment about waiting for her to leave for the restroom and then buried myself in my book.

Engulfed by the author’s tails about capturing pigeons and using them to convert his vegetarian girlfriend to omnivoreism, I barely acknowledged the woman’s comment 90 minutes later, about the temperature in the corner. Being at the end of my reading I delayed my move for a bit, only to hear “Mr. Crase” called out from the front desk.

I found Jamie lying comfortably in the recovery area attended by the familiar Pat. Jamie was smiling and recounting her encounter with Dr. Hickman (he was not today’s surgeon however) and the fact that she discovered that he was now 83 years old. On the second telling of this identical story, I tried to convey that she had already told me that, but on the third, I relinquished and said “oh, how interesting”, as I also did when experiencing some variation of déjà vu in the parking garage 30 minutes later, when the same factoid was once again presented.

The trip home was uneventful, and after some crackers, cheese and carrot sticks, Jamie quickly settled into nap position with her travel neck pillow in proper place. Her sleep must have been light, or her instincts keen, for as we approached Dupont, my interstate daze was broken by instruction to pull off at the Starbucks.

After a quick detour through the drive thru followed by a near collision with a Lincoln Town Car adorned with dozens of beanie babies and handicapped plates, we finished our uneventful journey home.

We arrived home to find the rabbits content and doing what they do best, pooping and tearing their habitat apart. Shorty’s whereabouts popped into my mind as I fed the fish and it was soon discovered that the door to the kennel was shut. Although Jamie could not observe him from the kitchen we were certain this was a sign he was home as well after his sleep over at Katelyn’s. As I approached the kennel he sleepily appeared from his den in typical lazy Shorty style, seeming unconcerned about anything.

Jamie is now resting comfortably, and in good spirits, watching the modern version of Pride and Prejudice for probably the 1,000th time. If it is possible to wear a DVD out, I think she may do it, as this and the BBC series of the same title are perpetual comfort favorites, like mac and cheese or a well worn blanket and fluffy pillow.

It is good to be on the return side of this journey, but I commented to Jamie in the waiting room that I could now comprehend the concept of post traumatic stress or a soldier’s return from war. Despite my glee for Jamie’s recovery, it is a little awkward envisioning a week or a month where this will not be the priority of our lives. This has been so emotionally intense for me, that I feel a great sense of relief, but also fatigue. As for Jamie, she shines brighter than ever, seemingly empowered by the whole experience. As I watch her I try to empathize and support, but find myself always being reinforced by her strength and positive energy.