My Old Kentucky Home

What often seemed like it would never happen is now reality. We’re home. There really is no place like it.

Our journey started early yesterday, May 15, 2014. After waking up about 3:15 am, I headed to the airport for a 7 am flight. I wasn’t expecting it to be busy that early, but it was a madhouse. The check in line was long, but showing my military ID allowed me to use the “first class” line. Instead of an hour, I was done in fifteen minutes. The security line was even longer, snaking around several times. Flashing my military ID again allowed me to skip to the front, drawing the ire of those stuck in TSA purgatory. Membership (of the Armed Forces) has its privileges.

 After two quick, uneventful flights, I was back in the Bluegrass. My pastor picked me up and we enjoyed some lunch and great conversation. I finally walked in my door about 3 pm. I’ve been busy since. Neither car would start and the Internet didn’t work. The cars are fixed but the Internet won’t be until Monday. I’m mooching Wi–Fi from my neighbor, with his permission, until then. I also made a quick grocery trip. In a final blow to what remained of my ego, I purchased Centrum Silver 50+ multivitamins. Seems the bodies of a stem cell patient and an older fella are quite similar.

Although I was home, the girls had a long way to go. Since there wasn’t enough room for three adults and two kids in car seats, I flew while they drove. I felt a little selfish, but it was logical since the Army would foot the bill for my travel. They left early Thursday morning and drove two long days, finally getting home about 6:30 pm today, May 16.

It feels great to be home. Honestly, I didn’t really feel at home until my family got here, but it’s wonderful to be together again in our house. I was glad to be in my bed, but it isn’t the same without Christi next to me. I also enjoy the silence, but frankly I prefer the little voices and running feet. I’m not eager to leave again anytime soon. I will, however, return to Houston in a month for a bone marrow biopsy and check up. In the meantime, I’ll see my doctor here weekly.

I woke up this morning in my home for the first time since January 1. The coffee was bold and full-bodied, much better than what we brewed in the apartment. It was a beautiful yet chilly morning. Today was the start, we hope, of our new normal, a life full of increasing promise and less constrained by cancer. As time goes on, I’ll devote more time to being alive and less time trying to stay alive. 

While my emotions are buoyed, I know that isn’t the case for everyone. A good friend woke up this morning without his loving wife. She passed away yesterday after a long, brave battle with cancer. While I’m starting my new life with eagerness and hope, he is starting a new chapter in his with sorrow. They both held strong to their faith in Jesus, so he has the promise that he will see her again. Still, the grief cuts like a knife even among the most faithful.

In our back yard, September 2013.

I refuse to take a day for granted. I don’t want to live unsteadily in the periods between labs and biopsies, my hope after each positive result fading into anxiety as next test approaches. Life is too short and my family deserves better. I won’t live a day less or more that God has ordained for me so worrying really is pointless. (I’ll come back and read this again when I start to worry). I’m choosing, again each day, to be thankful for what I have been given, to live life in the present and not succumb to the fears of the future. It’s great to be home.

Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. (1 Peter 5:7 NLT)